Be a Friend Like Benny

And a quick review of baby gadgets

Over the last couple weeks, Baby Girl celebrated her first birthday and attended her first work holiday party. (Although she still needs to get a job.) These days, we are teetering and tottering through various DC-NJ-Chicago homes of friends and family as we gear up for 2024.

“Mom and Dad had too much eggnog at the work party.”

When I moved to Boston in 1998, the first book I read was Common Ground. No one told me to read it. I’m not sure how I found it. But J. Anthony Lukas’ description of busing-era Boston defined the way I saw the city and certainly left me thinking I could never move to South Boston.

Of course, a couple years later, after stints in Somerville, Roxbury and Dorchester, I moved to Southie. And a year or so later, in September of 2001, my wife at the time and I bought a three-story, vinyl-sided row house built in the 1890’s on a narrow one-way street in the neighborhood. From the spiral staircase that took you to the two rooms per floor to the garden that sprouted more early 1900’s pottery shards than vegetables to the horse-hair plaster walls, it was a house from another era.

Over time, we got to know the families on the street. Some were newer to the area. Many had been in the neighborhood, or their homes, for generations. This was neither the South Boston of today, awash in hipster money, nor the South Boston of Common Ground, insular and angry. But it was a Southie trying to distance itself from its past, without losing its culture.

Around the corner from our house, next to the local package store, was Shea’s Tavern. When it was open (which was not often), it was the only non-smoking (non-music, non-TV) bar in the city.

Elvis enjoying a beverage at Shea’s Tavern. The stereo was just for looks.

When they decided to open, Frank was the friendly bartender. Most nights it would be just me and Elvis, our Boston Terrier, in for a drink and a chat. Frank would charge me for every other beer and tell stories about growing up in Boston that were just detailed enough so I knew I didn’t want to know any more.

Through Shea’s, we got to know Benny, Carol Ann and their Scottish Terrier, Pepper. While the humans chatted, Elvis would sit on a barstool, quietly growling at Pepper; through bushy eyebrows and a frothy dog-stache, Pepper would glare at Elvis from atop a stool at the other end of the bar. If anyone else walked in the bar - they were usually a bit lost - the little dogs would turn their big, tough, personalities on the intruder.

Every now and then, after the dogs were sent home, I would join Benny for a walk up W. Broadway for a pint at a bar that had music, televisions, cigarettes and, hence, people. Benny was the de facto mayor of a community of Irish immigrants. He knew some folks from Ireland, most of them through club football, and nearly all of them through the local construction industry.

Needless to say, I was a bit of an outlier. But, once someone heard I was a friend of Benny’s, I was deputy mayor for the evening. Which meant the nights always went too long. And the morning reminder not to try and keep up with the Irish came painfully soon.

It was always great to see Benny and Carol Ann and Pepper walking down our little one-way street. They were kind, generous and real. After I left Boston in 2008, I found myself thinking about more them than I would expect.

Today, Benny is on my mind because he unexpectedly died a few days before Christmas.

(Facebook’s ultimate utility is to see who has a new birthday, who made it through another birthday and who will, sadly, not see another birthday.)

As I see Carol Ann “like” the cascade of tributes to Benny, who was one year younger than me, mortality sneaks up. Not that I have issues with mortality. We have our time on earth. We try to do more good than bad. We move on and, hopefully, some of the good things we did manage to endure.

No, this is not going to be an essay about mortality as an old-man-girl-dad. While the premise of this Substack is “Cranky,” even that seems a little much.

The fact is I’ve reached a point where more people my age I know - or know of - are unexpectedly passing. Which leads me to wonder if I am doing quite enough with the time I have. A feeling that gets more complicated by the fact Anisa just celebrated her first birthday.

As I have shared, I’ve lived a lot of life in the last few years. Went from YAGHST to losing my dad to becoming a dad to turning 50. Along the way, got a new job and we moved across the country.

Fortunately, Anisa’s first lap around the sun went well. Everyone is happy and healthy, if not a bit sleep deprived. We are all making new friends, learning new things. Especially as Anisa’s personality is coming into focus; unsurprisingly, she is strong-willed, incredibly curious and brilliant. (I might be biased.)

Those are wonderful characteristics. But, how will she treat other people? Will she say please and thank you? Will Anisa be kind, generous and real? In other words, will she be a good friend - a friend like Benny?

I know I haven’t always been a good friend. I haven’t always been kind or generous. And, I certainly haven’t always been real. Over the years, I hope I have become a better friend.

Hopefully I can help Anisa be a good friend, too.

Year of Baby Gadgetry in Review

I was not prepared for the amount of baby gear that is now part of my life. The rollerboard life is in the past. So, as a public service, a few very helpful (and unhelpful) gadgets from the past year. With full credit to Toya for the great finds.

In terms of best bang of the buck, stackable baby formula canisters have been a lifesaver. Those 2am in-the-dark-bottles are easy peasy. On the other hand, the Motorola Nursery app to go with their monitors is, hands down, the worst.

The baby stroller scene is worse than buying a car. But, our Nuna stroller has been worth every penny. Even if it cost more than my last car. I am not qualified to use our new baby tool belt, but Toya swears by her Tush Baby. As soon as she wraps it around her waist, Anisa lights up, ready to take in the world at Mom’s side.

Finally, let’s talk about music. Over the last few months, Baby Girl has started to dance along with music (I’ve watched this Bhangra video over and over again). And, as Toya correctly points out, Anisa can catch a beat much better than Dad. Much better. But the most popular - and effective - track of 2023? Vacuum Cleaner White Noise.

Works every time.

Have a wonderful New Year!