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Tales From the City

All broken up

Solace from an unexpected source.

ALL BROKEN UP

Earlier this summer, I was following in a funeral procession during rush-hour traffic from Cambridge to Winthrop. It was no easy thing, as trucks, vans, and cars continually cut into the line and broke my heart as I lost sight of the hearse. This felt particularly disrespectful, as if nobody knew my pain. But up ahead someone did. A construction worker on the Longfellow Bridge in an orange T-shirt and white helmet bowed his head and put his hands behind his back as our fractured procession passed by. It meant everything then and still does to this day.

Maureen King / Waltham

GETTING SCHOOLED

I had just purchased our first boat and was taking it out for its maiden voyage with my 6-year-old daughter, Cara. As I cruised along, Cara pointed to the fish finder and asked me what all those dots were. I told her that they were fish. After a puzzled look, she turned to me and said, “Now that’s some fast food!”

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Gary Gomes / Marshfield

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