A Common Christmas
AJ Robinson

The Boston Common has existed since before Massachusetts was a state. My Dad told me that there was a time when farmers could graze their sheep there. Of course, nowadays it is the Boston public park. Every year, the place gets decked out for Christmas: lights, decorations, the works!

As a kid, I'd rode passed the Commons many times, but never stopped to see it; every once in a while, I'd go to Beacon Hill to help my Dad. I guess I should give some background here. After the war, the "Big One", "W-W Two", as my Dad called it, he was a veteran and newly married. Well, he knew that other vets were going to need housing; what with all the new kids that were going to start arriving! So, he saw that as a way to earn a living.

He started out with a little four-unit apartment building in Cambridge, and he always rented to vets with kids. He figured that way everyone could trade on baby-sitting. By the time I came along, in the early 60's, he'd worked his way up to owning an apartment building on Beacon Hill. Many a weekends I spent helping him scrape, paint, and repair those places. As we worked, he'd tell me stories about the area. He mentioned a place - I'm not sure if it was on Beacon Hill, but it was still interesting. It was a place called "Allen Street", and it was where all the funeral homes for the area had once been. He even recited a poem he knew called "Discharge to Allen Street". It was all about how doctors at a local hospital, when they knew a patient was terminal, would write on their chart: "Discharge to Allen Street". I don't remember if my Dad wrote the poem, or just knew it. Now, today, I'm sorry I never asked.

Then, one Christmas, I must have been about seven or eight, he took me to the Boston Common for Christmas Eve. At first, I wasn't all that hot on the idea (and my lack of enthusiasm had nothing to do with the climate!). I would have much rather stayed home and watched TV, but he would hear none of it.

Walking around, I was so struck by the lights and decorations. They had this wonderful display that showed a full-sized living room - with Santa standing there - in a big glass display case. I could have stared at that for hours. I kept wondering: how'd they get someone's living room all the way out here?

And then came the best part of all. We hiked up Beacon Hill and stood with some people under a lamppost. From somewhere, Christmas carol songbooks appeared, and they were passed out. I couldn't sing worth a lick, but that didn't seem to bother the others. We stayed there, even after it started snowing, and sang carols well passed my bedtime. Somehow, that didn't seem important that night.

I fell asleep on the drive home. It was, without a doubt, the most memorable Christmas Eve I ever shared with my Dad. And, it made me see Boston Common and Beacon Hill in a whole new light. It also made me appreciate family time a whole lot more. Those other Christmases - the ones where I did stay home and watch TV, I don't really remember any of those.

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