My husband and daughter are criminals.
In honor of the summer solstice, I give you this evidence, which surely belongs in a police locker: The two of them, illegally soaking their feet in a public fountain in Boston.
Basil and Catherine; Boston, 2009.
It was 2009, and we’d traveled by ferry there from Provincetown during one of our annual Cape Cod vacations. There, we spent the day wandering the public market, seeing the sights, grabbing a bite to eat and even visiting with my college mentor who happened to be there.
Somewhere in the house is a caricature we had done of Catherine that day — it’s all braces and glasses and big hair, but manages to be an accurate likeness anyway.
It was a beastly hot day and we were dusty and tired as we counted down the final hour before the return ferry. These two had no compunction about flouting the law.
However, the illicit dip wasn’t the most memorable part of the day. On the ferry back to P-town, we encountered rough seas that had us seeing the horizon from a variety of unusual angles, teeth clenched against the building nausea. On dry land, Catherine and I vowed NEVER AGAIN.
As I recall, the rest of the trip was clear sailing.
Pushing on a Rope 
Years ago, Stine and I went on a bus trip to DC as part of an effort to get adoption records unsealed. We arrived at our hotel at 2 am, had to be up and out at 7 to walk from Arlington to the Mall. We stood by the Lincoln Monument all day in the sun, rotating groups under trees for a little shade. And it was HOT, like DC can be in August. We listened to speakers, chanted, all the protest things. At about 3, we broke up and walked around, seeing the recently opened Vietnam Wall, and the sights. We were so miserable. When we came upon a large fountain, we — about 25 of us — walked in, dunked our whole bodies and got out. We walked in the shade until our clothing dried — and felt better. Marginally. I wish we’d taken pictures of us — ages early teen to middle-aged — in the fountain, along with a few little kids. On the way home in the bus, they said it was 105 in DC that day — no wonder we were miserable.
Posted by Karen Waggoner | June 21, 2013, 11:15 amThe ferries back home always made me sick too. I don’t think I do well on the water 🙂
Posted by Foodie in WV | June 21, 2013, 7:32 amYes, we’re definitely not sailors here. Catherine read the post and was lamenting the end of that day. I asked, “Don’t you remember how wonderful it was to stick our feet in the fountain?” and she countered: “Don’t you remember how wonderful it was to be on dry land!”
Posted by Terri S. Vanech | June 21, 2013, 11:01 am