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The Boston Globe



Letters to the editor

Boston Globe Magazine readers respond to pieces on persistent memories, holiday outfits, and “sparks” on a date.


Like Tara Lynn Jordan, I am the victim of loss of place (Perspective, November 18). Mother Nature did the damage to Jordan’s sense of Coney Island; mine was taken by “progress.” I grew up on Neptune Road in East Boston, a beautiful street that led to the entrance of Wood Island Park. But all my childhood memories were wiped out by the need for a bigger airport. The pain of it lingers to this day — for more than 40 years I have not been able to touch, feel, and smell the place where my best childhood memories occurred. Over time, more places fell by the wayside. Star of the Sea Church — where I received Communion, was confirmed, and was married — is no longer a Catholic church. John Cheverus grammar school is no longer a school, and my beautiful Neptune Road is gone. Changed are Revere Beach and Shea’s Beach in Orient Heights. The one thing that storms and progress and machines cannot take from us are our memories. And sometimes the memories are better than the real thing. 

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