You never know what kind of weird crap I will photograph when I am tired and waiting for the bastard green line to arrive:

Just imagine Stars and Stripes Forever is playing in the background when you look at these photos:

Boston put on a show on the night of the July 4th in more ways than one.  Check out these shots, straight out of some kind of horror movie:

This is for the record one of the few times I got a halfway decent shot of the moon.

This is Red Sox country, so no self respecting pub around here would have anything with the New York Yankees on it right side up:

Yeah, I’m about to get a bit schmaltzy here, but bear with me.  I’ve never revealed this up here before, but I am a teacher by profession.  I don’t actually wander the streets of Boston sticking a camera in people’s faces.  Well, I do, but I actually do some teaching in between as well.

There are moments few and far between when I tell the students about the past.  Sometimes, when it is a particularly good moment, I kind of feel like the Robin Williams character in Dead Poet’s Society.  I think of that scene when Robin Williams walks the boys around the halls of the old school and tells them that most of people in the photos are dead and they themselves must seize the day.  Carpe Diem, he tells them.

I feel this way sometimes when I take the students around to see old things.  Carpe Diem, my dear students, for soon we shall be pushing up daisies.  And with that, the photos.

First, the interior of the Parker House.  Or Omni Parker House if you insist.  It is one of the oldest hotels in Boston and was home to typically Bostonian called Honey Fitz, aka Mayor of Boston, aka John Fitzgerald, aka father of Rose Kennedy, aka grandfather of John F. Kennedy himself.  Surrounded by all of it opulence, Honey Fitz would hold his political meetings and generally sit in the lobby all day.  Dropping many an R I can imagine:

And here’s the man himself:

(he’s number 244.  Carpe Diem.)

Boston summers are hot and bright.  The buildings are whiter.  Things just look a bit different:

And of course people get married.  In the very bright sunlight:

With the wife.  Well, his cutout came:

I played absolutely no part other than standing there and taking the photos:

Now I enjoy these big events like the fireworks.  You see tons of people from all walks of life mingling together, enjoying the event.  You see old friends, you meet new people.  All in all, it never fails to amuse.

But there is this other side to things.  There is always a lull in the activity, when you are waiting for the fireworks to start and that’s when I tend to get a lot of good shots.  Also, it’s night time and that really changes everything.  Like this shot of this little girl waving the flag.  It wouldn’t look half as surreal if it were day time:

And it will get yet more dream like from here on out.  Of course at these big things, people sell all kind of glowing sticks and necklaces that actually last about 10 minutes.  But who cares.  The sellers make for great photos:

And this tree.  It also gets more dream like when you see this at night:

Well, the Bostonians were all decked out in red, white and blue for America’s birthday.  Even yours truly wore a very stylish, slightly faded, purchased that day American flag t-shirt, which I am proud to say will be my official Independence Day uniform from now on.

I’ve often said on this blog that Boston doesn’t get the sartorial credit it deserves.  New Yorkers wear Marc Jacobs American Apparel yadda yadda yadda.  But only a Bostonian would put together such an ensemble:

And it can get very elegant:

And I always leave the best for last.  Always.  And this is the best, believe me.  Let me present an individual who decided to pay tribute to the stars and stripes and two American icons in the only way anyone really could:

You have to look close but those are the profiles of Beavis and Butthead.  On a guys butt.  Genius.