Holidays were always interesting at our house, largely because of my mother’s proclivity for picking up strays (yeah, yeah, I know: pot, kettle; apple, tree). She ran a halfway house for alcoholics, and often we’d host these broken, middle-aged men, who had once been successful doctors and lawyers with beautiful families, but had lost it all by the time they got to my mother. They were newly awash in The Program, exuding the humility and gratitude of a new recruit. But one Thanksgiving stands out from the other holiday gatherings, and luckily there were no alcoholics at this one, because I’m pretty sure their fragile sobriety would have been mightily tested. 

First a disclaimer: This is a true story, insofar as I believe that everything within happened. It’s conceivable that I have blended family holidays. This sort of thing happens to me. I often remember parts of several movies, putting them together to make a whole new movie, thinking that what I am remembering is the movie I remember. It’s also possible that I have left out parts of the story, or that aspects of the day have become embellished over the years. As I grow older, my memory grows general, with bursts of specificity that either advance my personal agenda or contain facts so trivial and irrelevant that I don’t know what makes me think of them.  

Second, some background: My father died in 1967, when I was four, my brother was three, and my sister was 18 months. This left my mother a widow at 34, with three babies, very little money, less job experience and a high school diploma. My mother felt that she was abandoned by my father’s family after his death, and she became estranged from his parents and siblings. My father’s youngest sister had lived with my mother and father for a time after they were married, and so my mother felt particularly hurt by that desertion. Now, my mother was a good Christian woman, who could be selfless and forgiving at times, but she was a bit controlling. She could hold a grudge with unrivaled tenacity, and demanded loyalty above all else (pot, kettle; apple, tree). But, while she perceived herself to be forsaken by her in-laws, and told us often that they weren’t the best people, she managed to forge a career, and raise three children who mostly went to college and grew up to be reasonably well adjusted. We had a fine working-class upbringing, and all was more or less well.

Third, more background: In the early 80’s, my brother got a scholarship to an Ivy League school, and began to live the life of an Ivy League student – you know, spending semesters abroad, dating heiresses - that sort of thing. While my sister and I seldom ventured farther away than the subway would take us, he was globetrotting, and unbeknownst to our mother, had established contact with my father’s youngest sister, who had moved back to Ireland years earlier. My brother visited her and her family there. I don’t remember what actually happened – I must have been really stoned or away from the homestead at this point, but I understood that my mother was furious with him. I can so clearly imagine her feeling betrayed that I can almost hear her screaming. But somehow my brother convinced her that she had to let go, and she did. She visited the Irish relatives herself, and my oldest cousin even came to live with us for a while. (I don’t know why he stayed though, because my mother, who had become a substance abuse counselor, so harassed the poor kid every time he had a beer, she might have driven him to drink the next one.) But in general, relations between my mother and one small village in Ireland had become cordial, if somewhat fragile, even though she told us she wanted nothing to do with the rest of our father’s family.

Flash forward a few years, and the aforementioned paternal aunt, her husband, and my cousin, are going to be with us for Thanksgiving. My brother, in his first year of medical school, is also coming, along with three or four of his fellow students who aren’t going home. He has also invited the mother of one of these friends, a very nice woman who sells real estate in one of the tony western Boston suburbs, and probably doesn’t often visit our gritty urban neighborhood. Also in attendance will be my maternal grandfather, maternal great aunt, and my sister, who has just had her gallbladder removed. (This being the mid-80’s, she’s had an actual operation, with a big incision and stitches, not like today’s wussy procedure, where you can go out dancing that night.) What my mother doesn’t know until about two days before Thanksgiving, is that my aunt has invited her brother, my paternal uncle, and his new wife.  We have not seen this uncle since my father’s funeral, and my mother is not happy. However, she is trying to deal with it, moving back and forth between forgiveness and planning something guilt-inducing designed to elicit a full apology.

When my uncle and his new wife arrive, it is disconcerting, even for my normally unflappable self. There is a ghost sitting in my mother’s living room: His physical resemblance to the father I only know through photographs and secondhand accounts is uncanny. This elderly man is who my father would have been, and he doesn’t quite live up to the hype that occurs when someone dies young. He is not superhuman, and yet he is alien. He is also divorced, and has married a much younger woman, with my first name, -- and having married into the family, my last name as well.  Since it is uncommon, I am not accustomed to another Joyce, let alone someone with my full name. 

My grandfather arrives. He is a little old man with a sixth grade education, who has never had a nice thing to say about anyone. An immigrant, he has a thick French Canadian accent, and as he has grown older, his nastiness has become rather funny, because his inhibitions died with his wife ten years earlier. His insults aren’t as hard to take when they’ve skipped a generation. When he asks me, “What did you use to cut your hair, the lawn mower?” or “Where did you buy your clothes, the circus?” I can laugh it off, but my mother wouldn’t be human if she didn’t carry some baggage. Papa, as we called him, had grown too feeble to climb the stairs, and the bathroom is on the second floor. A coffee can is procured for him, in the event that he needs to pee.

Arriving with Papa, is my great aunt, Katie, sister to my maternal grandmother, who has been widowed years earlier, by a man with whom I don’t remember ever having a conversation. He had been present at all the family functions, but I don’t recall him ever getting a word in. Aunt Katie is also French Canadian, with a thick accent and thicker cat-frame glasses. She is a woman of modest means, but she makes her own glamorous clothes and hats and always wears gloves. She is very active in her church, making “bandages for the leopards” and such. I think she means lepers, and I also think that by this time the lepers aren’t using homemade church lady bandages, but I admit I don’t know this for a fact. In reality, the church is trying to keep her busy, because she has a penchant for befriending wrong number callers, and for excessive bingo. My great aunt is also responsible, I am convinced, for the fall of Communism in Russia, which happens as a result of her prayers and those of her church ladies, though she wouldn’t actually live to see it. Above all, she is a pragmatist: I remember once telling her that I wanted to be a writer when I grew up, and she said, “Well, good. Someone has to write the words on the toothpaste tubes, so there will always be work.”

Papa spots my father’s brother, and because Papa is starting to lose his hearing, screams at my mother, loud enough that everyone on our street can hear, “Who is that man?” My mother explains that he is my father’s older brother, who Papa met many times, many years ago. He screams, again to the neighbors, “Who is that girl with him? Is that his daughter?” My mother tells him the “girl” is my uncle’s new wife. He then screams for my brother to take him to the back porch so he can piss into the coffee can. At this point, my sister has to excuse herself, because she can’t allow herself to laugh, for fear of popping the stitches in her gallbladder incision. 

The afternoon wears on, getting weirder and more uncomfortable. My grandfather keeps asking – “who is that man?” and “who is that girl?” at 15 minute intervals, and we give up answering him after the first few times. Aunt Katie screams at him, because she is also hard of hearing, telling him that the “girl” is my father’s sister, which of course she isn’t, but no one argues with her. My sister comes back downstairs, but by this point, my uncle – not the ghost-of-my-father uncle, but the husband of my father’s sister – has finished a few drinks and turns into the stereotypical jolly Irish drunk, determined to make my sister laugh, because apparently the Papa and Aunt Katie show isn’t funny enough for him. Meanwhile, when my sister is not warding off the tickling from Uncle Johnny, she is being chased around the house by my brother and his med student friends. After all, she is a live surgical specimen, and they want to see her incision, check her temperature and generally annoy her. I think they want her to pop a stitch, so they can get some practice. She moves in and out of the public space, as the hilarity and its effect on her stitches allow. 

The “girl,” or aunt by marriage with the same name as mine, now also known as The Other Joyce, is obviously nervous. Who wouldn’t be, given the screaming? I don’t remember much of the conversation beyond the screaming, though I do remember her asking me what I did, which was always dangerous territory, as I had dropped out of college and was working for an outspoken lesbian who managed punk rock bands.

We sit down for dinner, and it is actually good. This is a bit of a surprise, as my mother, a talented woman in many regards, was no cook (pot, kettle; apple, tree), and often spoke of inventing a “turkey scent spray” that you could use in the house when you wanted people to think you actually made the turkey. There was a lot of polite conversation, and Papa was quiet, having procured a giant turkey leg, which was his favorite. 

We are all nearly finished our first helpings, when The Other Joyce begins to shake, her eyes rolling back in her head. Before the army of med students can get to her, she spasms and throws up all over the table. Aunt Katie quickly grabs the turkey and moves it out of harm’s way. Papa doesn’t look up from his turkey leg. The med students get her to a bedroom to lie down. My uncle won’t let anyone call an ambulance, which makes the med students positively giddy. He claims that nothing like this has ever happened to her before. I go to Aunt Katie, who, in addition to being hard of hearing is also more or less blind, and was directly in the line of fire, and ask if she’s okay. She says that she’s fine and asks for a Kleenex. The table is cleared faster than you can say “second wife,” and my sister has to go lock herself in her room, because she can’t take it anymore. I settle Papa and Aunt Katie in the living room, and he screams, “What’s wrong with that girl? Is that girl’s father going to take her home?” and “Boy! Could that girl puke!” The real estate woman from the western suburbs who had come with her med student daughter makes a gracious exit, but later sends a lovely thank you note, mentioning nothing of what happened. Her manners were impeccable.

My uncle and The Other Joyce leave after she has rested for a couple of hours, and I never see them again. Papa and Aunt Katie both died not long after, though I don’t think their deaths were related to the festivities. Mom also died around Thanksgiving in 1999, but I think she taught us an important lesson – that NOT letting go of grudges might actually make for more relaxing family holidays.

One year ago today, I left my job at City Hall after seven long years that flew by. As I have said 1000 times, to anyone who has asked, I don’t think I realized how spent I was until I walked out the door. That last year there was brutal. The air was thick and the gravity was real. They were always big jobs for all of us, but in that final year, people were dying and starving and being evicted. Businesses were failing, and the city was an eerie reflection of its former vibrant self. I lost family and friends to the virus, and there were no funerals, no chance to say goodbye. My house abuts the cemetery, and when I was home, the earth movers were my incessant soundtrack, seven days a week. It was sobering and frightening. I remember sitting here and listening, wondering if this was it. In some ways, we still don’t know. But I am proud of the work we did. We tried hard to do everything we could to ease the burden of the living and the grieving, the scared and the angry. People really stepped up. Leaders were born. Fissures were revealed. Voices rose up. We all rowed together for a while, until we didn’t.

This last year has been great. I have been lucky to have plenty of projects and work, but more importantly, I have had time. I’ve been taking long walks with my beloved (dog), reading fiction, listening to records, not working at all on Saturdays, and cooking Sunday supper every week with my “family.” I’ve never cooked before in my life. Tomorrow is corned beef and cabbage, naturally. I started a daily Substack, with which I am having lots of fun. It’s basically a way for me to listen to records with friends without having to hold them hostage in my living room as they politely play along. Some people who indulge me tell me it’s the first thing they read every morning, and a handful have said they read it BEFORE they Wordle (™ New York Times), which I consider the highest honor imaginable.

Soon after I left City Hall last year, I co-wrote an op-ed with my friend Damon, which was published in the Globe. I didn’t have to run it through five levels of defanging and approvals before submitting it. I have my own voice again. That’s not a complaint about my time at City Hall. It’s just a fact. When you work or are perceived to work so close to a public figure, everything you say is scrutinzed for hidden messages. I was talking to him not too long ago, and he was describing his strange experience of being assigned the task of promoting someone else’s agenda. It’s a good agenda – really a great, transformational agenda, but it’s someone else’s. I said “Dude! I mean Secretary! Welcome to my world from 2014 to 2021!” It was a good laugh.

In the last year, I’ve hosted amazing book talks on Zoom – awkward in execution but rich in ideas and more importantly, in community. Through this worldwide plague, with its curves and waves, I have been grateful for the opportunity to connect and re-connect with people, even if they’re just in tiny boxes. I have been working with Joe Pernice, with whom I own a record label, on reissuing some of his music on vinyl. And he has two and a half new albums in the can. He has never, in the 25+ years I’ve known him, been so prolific, or so good. Our 20-year side hustle is flourishing and threatening to consume a bit more of my time.

I raised a bunch of money for Interim House, the place my mother founded fifty years ago to help people struggling with addiction. I’ve talked to people about jobs, turned down jobs, helped lots people look for jobs, and rejoiced at seeing where some of my favorite people landed post-City Hall. The idea of getting on the hamster wheel ever again hurts my head. I keep walking by my closet full of work clothes and work shoes thinking “I should get rid of those,” because my monkey suit days are surely over. I spontaneously developed an allergy to eye makeup. I told my dermatologist, and she said she had a cure. I was excited to hear it. She said “Don’t wear eye makeup.” Funny lady. I’d burn my panty hose, but you never know when you’ll have to get dressed for a funeral, so that seems shortsighted. I might do it anyway.

I’ve been cleaning out my house, finding things I didn’t know I had when I bought another one of the same thing. Others who could work from home went through this a year earlier, but I was going to work every day then, so I am behind. Related, if you need two dozen hand towels, a few blankets, vegetable peelers or a flat-packed coffee table, I know where you can find them. 

I’ve been rooting for the people now at City Hall. Of course I am rooting for my former colleagues – I adore them -- but also for the new people. The first year is overwhelming, even bewildering. I am laughing a little as policies that we worked on for years are rolled out as if new. To be sure, we did it too, with work that was underway in the administration before ours. It’s what you do, because politics. There’s a book in that for sure. The problem with government is politics. And I am not ashamed to admit that I am a little bit jealous, because of the money now growing on trees. Big ideas are expensive, and money is newly abundant. That would be fun. Very recently, I have been exploring Ukrainian music, and buying it on Bandcamp, because that puts money directly into the bank accounts of the artists.

Looking forward, I have ideas. Big ideas. Some I can talk about; some call for more discretion. Maybe if I write some of them down, someone will shame me into executing, or better yet, someone will appropriate. For instance, we need to open a facility that presses vinyl. Right now, it can take a year or more to get a record pressed, because the big labels, who once owned the means of production, divested from all of that when they made us buy our record collections all over again on CD. Well, now they are back at it, knocking the little guys off the production line. So we need to start a plant for the little guy. It should be a social enterprise, or maybe a co-op, and it should employ people coming back from incarceration, and pay them a living wage with benefits. I've done some research. It’s doable, and it doesn’t have to be me. I’m happy to help someone else think through it.

There also needs to be a Super Political Action Committee (Super PAC) for arts and culture. Or someone should start some kind of Dark Money entity, perhaps called Dark Arts Money, or something better. Our system is lousy with these shadow organizations, and until the game changes, that’s the game. It should work to elect candidates who will do the things we all know need to be done, and defeat those who won’t. I don’t know about you, but I am tired of turning up hat in hand to explain the economics case or the moral case for arts and culture. It doesn’t seem to be working and all this nibbling around the edges has left a lot of people hungry. Again it’s doable, and it doesn’t have to be me. I’m happy to help someone else think through it.

“When are you going to write a book?” is a question that everyone asks everyone else all the time. And I think everyone thinks they CAN write a book. I’m not sure that’s true. I haven’t started writing the book everyone keeps asking me about, mostly because I don’t remember a lot of things. But I’ve been thinking and scribbling, because even though I don’t remember, I can spin a yarn with the best of them. Remember that obituary that went viral a few months ago? “Because she was my mother, the death of zaftig good-time gal Renay Corren at the impossible old age of 84 is newsworthy to me, and I treat it with the same respect and reverence she had for, well, nothing.” Its truth and beauty made me cry, and got me thinking that I should write obituaries for myself and my closest comrades who are not yet dead. It would eschew the accolades and celebrate the essence. It would be called Nearly Departed. Here’s an excerpt from mine.

Joyce Linehan (she/her/hers) reads a lot of books, but while reading a book, she finds it difficult to concentrate sometimes, because she is always thinking about the NEXT book she will read instead of thinking about the book she is reading. This impulse was exacerbated when she read that the average avid reader gets to read 2500 books in her life, which seems to her like a very small number. Along these lines, she once had a boyfriend who drove her crazy because he took too long to fix his coffee at the Starbucks. He would add cream and sugar and stir and stir and stir, taste, add more, stir and stir and stir, while she added cream, replaced the cover, and walked, understanding that the coffee would stir itself as she moved. It goes without saying that they broke up. For Joyce, it’s definitely not about the destination, and it’s certainly not about the journey; it’s about the NEXT journey, and the journey after that one.

 That seems like a good place to stop. 

In Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, on the Island of Misfit Toys, there is a scene where Charlie-in-the-box throws the bird who can’t fly off the sleigh without an umbrella. People have long debated whether this was a blooper or a statement about resilience. Perhaps we can trace the decline of western civilization to this one scene in this one beloved and terrifying stop-motion animated Christmas special, and the effect that it had on the national childhood psyche from the mid-sixties to the mid-seventies. I think you can essentially divide people our age into three categories: 1) people who were terrified that the bird was abandoned, 2) people who believed the bird could always fly but just needed someone to believe in him and 3) people who didn’t give a rat’s ass if the bird could fly.

There might be a few non-classifiable people, like those who believe an umbrella is not a parachute, but they’re assholes anyway.

Here is an op-ed I co-wrote with Damon Krukowski for the Boston Globe.

I never expected to take such a job – I had built a great career - but the offer was too good to refuse. Having spent most of my life pushing from the outside, the lure of a position from which I could affect real and lasting change was overwhelming. I wanted to make sure the arts had a real seat at the table, fight for the underdog, and mentor the next generation. In the last seven years, under the Mayor’s leadership, I have done all of that and more. I have been part of a team that created more subsidized housing than any other city in America, housed hundreds of chronically homeless people, leveraged growth to achieve good, expanded family leave policy for City employees, and worked to preserve and build cultural facilities. I pushed to establish a Percent for Art program, which is something I had been working on since long before I got to City Hall. That’s millions of dollars for public art. We built real and innovative supports for people struggling with addiction, which for me is very personal, as a continuation of my mother’s life’s work. I worked to create an office that oversees grant seeking and grant making. I had the opportunity to push good climate policy, move workforce and wealth-building initiatives, and make sure the animals in our care are safe. I was able to influence the hiring and promotion of very talented people, now sprinkled in every corner of the building. They will do great things. I am humbled to have had a hand in a great many things at City Hall. In the past year especially, we battled a multi-front war, fighting a deadly pandemic, the resulting recession and working to do what was in our power to advance equity.

I am proud of the work that Marty Walsh and the team he assembled has done. I have learned a lifetime of lessons in the last seven years, which were both the shortest and the longest I have experienced. I am particularly proud of the work I did to begin the conversation about dismantling racist policy and building a system that affirmatively furthers real equity. In 2013, Marty Walsh and I had many long conversations about the fact that race and racism are the subtext of every conversation about policy and history in Boston. We resolved then to tackle that. I led the work to establish the Mayor’s Office of Resilience and Racial Equity, and pushed to make sure that racism was part of every conversation at every table to which I had access. And I had access to a lot of tables at which people like me don’t usually sit. I found some good people there, willing to listen and act. I believe I made a difference. I believe I influenced some hearts and minds. City Hall has a lot more work to do, but I think I am leaving it better than I found it.

As rewarding as political leadership can be, it can also be hard. There is a pervasive feeling that many people are waiting for you and your colleagues to fail, in pursuit of a fleeting shot of schadenfreude. Virtue signaling is a popular sport, and ambition and fear fuel a frenetic race of one-upmanship. I suppose one of the reasons I lasted as long as I did is because I spent 12 years in Catholic schools and had some level of comfort in always feeling as if I was always just about to be yelled at, shamed or embarrassed. People who know nothing about you sit in judgment, and they can be cruel. It’s hard not to take it personally. It is certainly a lesson I will carry with me as I become a better outside agitator. But the good days outnumbered the bad, and I wouldn’t trade our accomplishments for anything.

Governing is about consensus and compromise, by design. Just remember how grateful many of us were for that, as the last administration in Washington moved to destroy the work of better administrations. But that means it’s a slow and sometimes frustrating process with a series of well-placed brick walls that usually don’t come down until there is some bombastic outside trigger, making the action sometimes seem reactive instead of thoughtful. That’s hard. One of my greatest accomplishments in government was to see to it that the legendary documentarian Frederick Wiseman could make his film CITY HALL. If you have seen the four-and-a-half-hour opus, you know it’s about the nobility of public service, and the beauty of our city. It’s pure poetry. It’s about good people trying really hard to figure it out. And, as one of my very smart colleagues pointed out, it might just be a rumination on the fact that it’s process, and it’s never really finished. That’s the idea. That framing is too perfect, and as the credits roll on Fred’s latest work, they also roll on mine.

I wish the next Mayor the best of luck in building their own team and have let everyone know that I am around if they need me.

So, what’s next for me? I don’t know yet. I am going to take a bit of time to assess. I wish I could have some people over every night, to talk about big ideas, but that pernicious virus is still out there. I intend, as always, to be an advocate for righteous causes and people, and to advance truth and justice. This is the first time since I was 15 that I haven’t had a well-developed plan. I am available for projects and socially distanced dog walks. I am going to read some books and listen to some records. I am going to push once again from the outside, using all that I have learned. I probably have a book in me. This might be the beginning of a chapter.

(Image from Kallman, McKinnell and Knowles) 

I couldn't be more excited about this film, and couldn't be more grateful to have had the opportunity to watch the master at work. I am compiling notices here. The film opened at the Venice and Toronto Film Festivals in September, and will open across the United States in October and November. I am glad to know that it seems to have an audience beyond people like me, who find the rhythms and humanness of public service fascinating. 

It was a highlight of my career to be able to spend time with Frederick Wiseman, and to watch him work. I have been a fan since I was a teenager. 

Hollywood Reporter

"Even a native New Yorker like myself, born and bred to despise Boston’s sports franchises, clean streets, comparatively lower crime rates and whiff of historical superiority, cannot deny how much Beantown impresses under Wiseman’s seasoned gaze, revealing sides of itself that few viewers outside the city may be aware of."

Screen Daily

"Wiseman seems to suggest that there’s good spin and bad spin, and this stocky, twinkle-eyed Irish Bostonian, who serves gravy at a Thanksgiving dinner for special needs adults and boasts at a municipal gala about the city’s low unemployment rate and success in fostering upward social mobility, is held up as an example of the canny yet virtuous politician, the anti-Trump in person."

Mubi

“Boston’s city government is the opposite of what Trump stands for,” Wiseman’s said, and indeed, City Hall maintains a belligerent tone throughout, pitting Mayor Walsh’s office as anathema to Trump’s: a safety net for the downtrodden, a champion of inclusiveness, and a bellwether for the whole country to look up to and follow. “I realize in Boston we can’t solve the problems of the United States,” Walsh says halfway through, “but all it takes is one city.”

Barron's

"Wiseman, 90, followed Boston's Democratic mayor Marty Walsh and his team for the best part of a year. The resulting four-hour film has been hailed as "a testament to American democracy" when so many of its tenets seem to be under threat. 'Mayor Walsh and Trump represent two extremes,' Wiseman told reporters."

The Economist

The Gate: City Hall | TIFF 2020 Review

Boston Globe: Fred Wiseman’s ‘City Hall’ (as in Boston City Hall) at Toronto film fest

The Playlist: ‘City Hall’: Frederick Wiseman’s Latest Is Four-Star Competency Porn [TIFF Review]

Variety: ‘City Hall’ Review: Frederick Wiseman’s Mammoth Boston Doc Shows Anti-Trump Politics in Practice

Film Stage: Venice Review: Frederick Wiseman Digs Out the Soul of City Hall in Latest Documentary Epic

His ability to ennoble even the dreariest of bureaucratic entities never ceases to amaze.

The New Yorker: Highlights from the Second Week of the New York Film Festival

Wiseman considers, with a lofty philosophical logic and an ardent sense of observation, the very nature of good government, as he sees it at work in Boston, with the mayoralty of Marty Walsh (who was elected in 2013 and reëlected in 2017).

Moveable Feast: New York Film Fest 2020 Review: A Metropolis That Works for All Takes Work in Frederick Wiseman’s Illuminating “City Hall”

With “City Hall” starting to make its way into the world in the middle of a pandemic in which the response has seemed less than ideal, it’s both comforting to see these gears being constantly in motion with the best intentions behind them as it follows Mayor Martin Walsh into meetings about better coordination of city services or planning the logistics of the parade celebrating the Red Sox recent World Series win or distressing when revealing the inefficiencies of the whole process and how slowly it yields results.

WBUR: Marty Walsh Takes A Star Turn In Fredrick Wiseman's 'City Hall'

AP: Frederick Wiseman on the life of American institutions

The film doesn’t in any way suggest the government of Boston is perfect. But it does suggest, I hope, that there’s a mayor who cares and is trying to implement programs and raise money for services that will make a difference in people’s lives.

Disappointed Media: CITY HALL -- A Magnificent Work of Direct Cinema

Frederick Wiseman is considered to be one of the most influential filmmakers in the direct cinema style of documentary filmmaking, and even as a nonagenarian, he’s still one of the most interesting voices working today. And while his newest film City Hall may be long, it’s powerful stuff and should be considered essential viewing.

We Live Entertainment: NYFF 2020 REVIEW: 'CITY HALL' IS A TERRIFIC ODE TO PUBLIC SERVICE

In City Hall, we are not observing a city ‘managing’ its population, we are observing a symbiotic relationship, within which the equality between the two parties is absolutely vital.

Forward: Now 90, Frederick Wiseman is as vital and relevant as ever

Wiseman films always have their share of vivid characters, but “City Hall” is the rare one to contain a figure who might be considered its hero or protagonist. That would be Mayor Marty Walsh, who sports a note-perfect Bahstahn accent and points to his Irish heritage as connecting him to the many immigrant communities contained in his city. For any New Yorker who’s lately been stewing over the ridiculous, endless pissing match between our mayor and governor, it’s refreshing to encounter a political leader as humble, dedicated and focused on the common good as Mayor Walsh appears to be.

Critics At Large: City Hall: Frederick Wiseman in Boston

Wiseman’s real focus in City Hall is the slow, uphill battle, championed by Walsh, to achieve social justice in the city of Boston, to honor diversity and inclusivity and remove the barriers to gender and racial parity (especially in the workplace) at a time when the federal government is moving backwards.

Squid News: ‘City Hall’ Film Review: Frederick Wiseman Celebrates the Power of Civic Engagement

In time it becomes clear that Walsh isn’t the subject of “City Hall” but rather the most visible face of the city’s government, its good will ambassador. He also serves as a sharp counterpoint to President Trump, an unseen presence whose administration, policies and political agenda wind through the movie like a cord.

Wall Street Journal: ‘City Hall’ Review: An Inspiring Display of Municipal Bonds

His film, narration-free as always, constitutes a love letter to civic governance, and the notion of democracy, at a time when public discourse seethes with scorn for urban life. It is also a celebration, simultaneously clear-eyed and optimistic, of what Boston’s government, under its mayor, Martin J. Walsh, has been trying to achieve in a city that’s endured more than its share of racial turmoil in the recent past. 

Los Angeles Times: Review: Frederick Wiseman returns to his Boston hometown in the magnificent ‘City Hall’

Walsh’s political passion is informed by his Catholic beliefs (“That’s a sin,” he says of the NRA’s negligence) and a genuine belief in the power of municipal government to change lives for the better: “The people that work for the city work for you,” he tells his fellow Bostonians more than once. It also reflects his commitment to diversity and extending the reach of the city’s services to marginalized communities. We often see Walsh addressing those communities with sincere, sometimes touchingly awkward vulnerability: Speaking to the concerns of veterans in recovery, he describes his own struggle with alcoholism. At a meeting with Latino constituents, he criticizes President Trump’s racism with memories of the anti-Irish prejudice endured by his own family.

AV Club: Frederick Wiseman’s mammoth-length City Hall finds humanity alongside the bureaucracy

And for City Hall, he’s chosen to look at the municipal workings of Boston, which still has a strong Irish-Catholic image for many people but is in fact “majority minority,” with a population that’s more than 50% people of color. How that gets navigated on a day-to-day basis is the film’s primary, never-stated subject.

ArtsFuse: Film Review: Frederick Wiseman’s “City Hall” — A Kinder, Gentler Government?

Walsh makes sure that his constituents know that he’s been through childhood cancer and that he’s in recovery from booze. Yet he also encourages them to talk about themselves. And it’s in these moments that City Hall comes alive.

NPR Fresh Air: An Action-Packed Doc About Local Government? It's All In Wiseman's 'City Hall'

Walsh has an empathetic touch: At one point, addressing some of his Latino constituents, he criticizes the Trump administration's attacks on people of color and reflects on the discrimination endured by past generations of his Irish Catholic family. In another scene, he attends a fundraiser for nurses and reminisces about the kindness of the care he received as a childhood cancer patient. Sometimes Walsh overreaches in his attempts to relate to his fellow Bostonians, but it's moving to see him make the effort. And he seems genuine in his belief that municipal government can effect real, beneficial change in his citizens' lives.

In the Seats: INCREASING SOCIAL CAPITAL: OUR REVIEW OF ‘CITY HALL’

I guess cinema and public appearances are platforms that engender more empathy that say, social media. However, there’s something brave about depicting a mayor exposing such vulnerable personal secrets. Wiseman depicts Walsh’s flaws too. He plops the camera in front of Walsh long enough and not edit anything out. And there’s something that a knowing audience can pick out, validly. And I know grass is greener, etc. But Wiseman makes Walsh look so good here that it makes me resent the kind of mayors we have. How our mayors represent the boorish nouveaux riches and performative intellectuals plaguing our streets.

Cinema As We Know It: TIFF Review: The Residential Monument of ‘City Hall’

Its only recurring figure is Marty Walsh, serving his second term as Mayor of Boston. And serving isn’t some vague rhetoric here, his moments on screen are all focused on his duty to his electorate. He appears at holiday celebrations, interdepartmental meetings, environmental roundtables, and a televised celebration of the Red Sox World Series victory. It is unexpectedly heartening to see a mayoral leader so focused on progressive policy and in favor of accountability and humanity. Walsh holds himself with unmistakable purpose and conscience and his addresses are always his own words, delivered in his recognizable Boston accent.

Hyperallergic: How a City Government Works, According to Frederick Wiseman

WaPo: Frederick Wiseman, the dean of documentary filmmaking, turns his attention to local government

The same sense of contemplation and perseverance propels “City Hall” to its full-circle moment, an affecting testament to the countless anonymous people who undergird the part of a functional democracy that’s routinely taken for granted or demonized as the “Deep State.” Wiseman delivers an engrossing rebuke to that toxic myth by putting viewers into their own deep state: In this case, one of reflection, admiration and profound gratitude.

Texas Art and Film: CITY HALL

It’s easy to see why Wiseman would want to capture the tenure of Walsh as mayor of Boston.  He has strong basic values of equity and fairness, and after overcoming a brief addiction which taught him the importance of acknowledging emotions and talking about significant experiences, he is sensitive to the challenges and needs of the disadvantaged whether by race, sex, or ethnicity.  This allows him the capacity to move the city forward in practices, policies, and programs that are meant to benefit the general public.

Film Threat: City Hall

Fred Wisemen is not so much a director as he is a symphony conductor. His latest documentary, City Hall, is a testament to this. At a sprawling four and a half hours, he finds beats and rhythms within his subjects, providing a texture and pattern that builds into melodies and occasionally swells into crescendos

Third Coast: Review: Documentarian Frederick Wiseman Returns with Masterful City Hall, an Immersive Exploration of Municipal Machinations

His latest masterpiece is City Hall, which moves us through the workings of the city of Boston, led by its progressive and skillful mayor, Martin Walsh, and his seemingly endless numbers of civil servants who keep nearly every aspect of the city moving and functional…mostly.

Austin Chronicle: City Hall

City government is the social establishment that personally affects our lives the most, and while the phrase “required viewing” gets thrown around a lot, I cannot think of another film that plainly and comprehensively lays bare the both the complex apparatus at work, and the people dedicated to serving its populace.

Chicago Reader: City Hall highlights public servants actually serving the public 

The sometimes profound cynicism of some of Wiseman’s earlier films is replaced here by the even more profound conviction that people are at the heart of government and that many of those people just want to help.

Nashville Scene: Frederick Wiseman’s City Hall Is a Thorough Examination of What Keeps a City Running

There’s a particular focus on Boston’s diversity, along with how city services attempt to meet the needs of its substantial immigrant population. On both the official and personal levels, we see Bostonians reconciling with the city’s particular history of racism while working out how to enact a more progressive future. 

Boston Globe: Boston is the star in ‘City Hall’

Finally, Mayor Marty Walsh speaks. He talks about how his experience of alcoholism chimes with the sense of dislocation and stress that returning veterans must feel. He’s speaking extemporaneously. The comparison is in no way gratuitous or self-serving. This isn’t a politician talking to voters. It’s one human being who’s suffered talking to other human beings who’ve suffered even more.

Patriot Ledger: ‘City Hall’ documentary shows Boston from the inside out

The Government Center delve unfolds in a series of chapter-esque meanders between the micro and macro with plenty of shots of Boston’s iconic skyline and landmarks to root you. The rendering should make plenty of Beantowners proud and Walsh, seemingly ever aware of the camera, comes off crisp, progressive and inclusive — a shining illumination that may pose something of an extra hurdle for upcoming challenger Michelle Wu and others.

Rolling Stone: ‘City Hall’: Frederick Wiseman’s Latest Reminds Us Why Democracy Is Slow — But Effective

When I saw City Hall for the first time this summer, smack dab at the center of the pandemic, I was initially perplexed by its lack of explicit befuddlement at the political leaders it depicts; I was, at the moment, craving more of the bitter irony Wiseman let seep into many of his early films. Then the election happened; Biden won. And that punctuating question, about the efficacy of well-meaning Democrats, became much more resonant. City Hall’s barely adorned and adamantly unruffled depiction of Walsh’s Boston precedes the Covid era and election season — only barely. These problems are inseparably tied up in the questions raised, the humanity witnessed, the limits exposed by this movie. A case in point: As of this writing, Mayor Walsh is among the names circling President-elect Biden’s incumbent cabinet. On its surface, in so many ways, City Hall could read as an endorsement. But politics aren’t that simple — and Wiseman’s movie most certainly isn’t, either. 

Willamette Week: Frederick Wiseman’s New Doc “City Hall” Is Like Watching a Puzzle Being Put Together, and the Final Picture Is of a Stable Democracy

City Hall is sort of like watching a puzzle being put together in real time (it's over four hours!), only the pieces are people, meetings, ideas and industries, and the final picture is of a stable democracy. 

Portland Press Herald: Indie Film: ‘City Hall’ shows humanity through the lens of local government

In responding to inevitable speculation that his choice to focus on the boldly anti-Donald Trump Mayor Walsh (who declared Boston a “sanctuary city” for undocumented people) was, itself, a political statement, Wiseman noted, revealingly, “ ‘City Hall’ is an anti-Trump film because the mayor and the people who work for him believe in democratic norms. They represent everything Donald Trump doesn’t stand for.”  

Clip

Funny story about how the film came to be made. Yvonne is the Mayor's assistant, and she sorts his mail. She makes piles. She'll say, "oh this one is housing, so it's for Sheila." "This one is veterans, so it's for the commissioner." "This one is weird and I don't know what to do with it, so it's for Joyce." And that's how Fred Wiseman's letter got into my hands. Of course I rolled my eyes when she handed it to me. Then I looked at it. "Hi, my name is Frederick Wiseman and I am a filmmaker..." I shrieked, "Oh my God, Yvonne, do you know what this is?" She just laughed. I then called the five whole people in City Hall who would understand why I was so excited, because I would need backup to convince everyone this was a good idea. And that's what we did! In the process, we indoctrinated a few of the younger City Hall folks, who are now BIG Fred fans for life. So, I won't complain ever again if Yvonne brings me the weird mail.

Here's a playlist with one song for every hour of the work week! I compiled this playlist on a platform that doesn't pay artists enough for their work, proving that irony is not dead. 

Song for today, on the 388th anniversary of the birth of philosopher John Locke. 

Some years ago, I tried to catalog some of my privilege, to get some perspective. I, like many other people, feel that I have worked hard for what I have. Also like many others, I was raised by a single mom, in a lower-income family. But I bought a house at age 30, because I had a little down payment help from a very generous aunt (generational wealth). Around the time I bought that house, I met a Black woman trying to buy a house a quarter mile from mine. She was also single, a couple of years older than me, and had a job that paid about the same as mine. I had a little student debt drag on my record. Nothing big - a few late payments. She didn't have those blemishes. She also didn't have the down payment I had. I got my mortgage. She didn't get hers. And if she had gotten hers, lots of studies tell us that it PROBABLY would have carried an interest rate that was a quarter point higher than mine, making it much more expensive over time, inhibiting her ability to build wealth. I still own that first house, and I was able to use some of the equity in it to buy a second house. That's one of the ways that my privilege has worked for me. It has allowed me to build wealth. In Boston specifically, that's the $250K or so difference in the median net worth of White people vs. that of Black people. It's the equity in a house.

I worked at Boston City Hall in the spring of 2020, and my office overlooked Faneuil Hall. I snapped a picture on many days. This is the view from my office of a city in lockdown in Corona Time, March 24 - May 26, 2020.

March 24, 2020, 4:34 p.m.

March 25, 2020, 7:23 a.m. 

March 26, 2020, 5:25 p.m. 

March 27, 2020, 1:11 p.m.

March 30, 2020, 12:25 p.m.

March 31, 2020, 5:30 p.m. 

April 2, 2020, 5:26 p.m. 

April 3, 2020, 5:45 p.m. 

April 6, 2020, 6:30 p.m.

April 7, 2020, 7:30 a.m.

April 8, 2020, 7:30 a.m. 

April 9, 2020, noon

April 10, 2020, 5:26 p.m. 

April 13, 2020, 9:24 a.m.

April 14, 2020, 6:27 p.m. 

April 15, 2020, 5:32 p.m. 

April 16, 2020, 5:40 p.m. 

April 17, 2020, 12:11 p.m.

April 20, 2020, 6:16 p.m. 

A bill to have "Roadrunner" designated as the official rock song of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts has been introduced FOR THE THIRD TIME, having died without reaching the floor of the Massachusetts State Legislature in 2014 and again in 2016. In 2014, it was derailed by an ill-conceived attempt to bestow that honor on Aerosmith's "Dream On," which is NOT by any account a love song to Massachusetts. The second time it just gained no traction and died a quiet death. It has been introduced once again by Rep. Daniel Linsky, who represents Natick, Massachusetts, the birthplace of Jonathan Richman. Let's hope third time's the charm. Today, the Joint Committee on State Administration and Regulatory Oversight heard testimony, and below is what I submitted. 

************

Testimony in support of HB.1683, An Act designating “Roadrunner” as the official rock song of the Commonwealth, as prepared for delivery on January 30, 2108 at Hearing of Joint Committee on State Administration and Regulatory Oversight.

Chairpersons Timilty and Benson, Members of the Committee, sophisticated music fans:

First, let me thank Representatives Linsky and Provost for sponsoring this bill. I am excited to be here to testify in support of HB.1683, An Act designating “Roadrunner” as the official rock song of the Commonwealth. I am proud to say I am the person who, in January 2013, asked Representative Walsh, now the Mayor of Boston, to introduce the first version of this bill, which has now failed to make it to the floor in the last two sessions. We’re back, because a group of dedicated fans of the iconic song understand it symbolizes hope and optimism while professing its love of our home state. It is important, and the perfect song for this honor.

This has been an interesting journey. Over the nearly five years since the original bill was introduced, we’ve gotten a ton of press, with many stories in all the local media, plus Rolling Stone, Time, NPR, the BBC, the CBC and Gawker. A friend of mine in Tokyo said he heard me on the radio talking about Roadrunner. When an ill-conceived competing bill was introduced in 2013 to bestow the title on Aerosmith’s Dream On, there was even more national and international press. My favorite was an essay in Slate by Jack Hamilton, an assistant professor of American Studies at the University of Virginia, which talks about the Massachusetts paradox that made the Aerosmith episode so predictable. He said, “In a rock-snob worldview, the Modern Lovers’ failure at the moment of Aerosmith’s success is evidence of the former’s worth: Part of the reason the Modern Lovers are great is because everyone else loves Aerosmith.” Remember, in 1972, the year both Dream On and Roadrunner were recorded, Massachusetts was the only state to vote George McGovern for President. We revel in the obscure and esoteric. We punch above our weight. We root for the underdog. We wear our idiosyncrasies with pride. And sometimes, we can’t see the forest for the trees. It’s who we are.

Jonathan Richman, the eccentric genius who wrote the song has said that he doesn’t believe the song is good enough to be any kind of official song. This is exactly what many of us expected him to say, and it just adds to this already-great legend. But this isn’t really about the artist who created or performed the song at all. This is about a song that captures the very essence of the spirit of Massachusetts. And let’s acknowledge the first and second bills’ anti-climactic deaths. Of course they died. That we’re still spending time on this when it should have been done so long ago is testament to the fact that we sometimes can’t get out of our own way. And, no matter what happens from here, we will still have a great story.

Famed author Nick Hornby, who wrote the seminal High Fideity voiced his strong support of our efforts on the first bill, as did the Dropkick Murphys’ Ken Casey, and the Daily Show’s John Hodgman, a Brookline native who invited the soon-to-be Mayor Walsh to perform the song on stage with him in November 2013. THAT was a highlight of my life, which I am grateful to say has been pretty full of highlights.

It has been a blast. This story – indeed this song – captures imaginations around the world and communicates the very character of our Modern Massachusetts and her people.

With that, I give you 17 reasons why “Roadrunner” should be the official rock song of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

1.    Jonathan Richman, who wrote the song, is a Massachusetts native, born in Natick.

2.    The Modern Lovers, his band, started out in the Boston area.

3.    Many of Richman’s songs reference growing up in Massachusetts.

4.    “Roadrunner” is an upbeat, youthful ode to the greatness of being alive, and the simple beauty of the Commonwealth.

5.    “Roadrunner” is a tribute to the urban landscape, with nods to Massachusetts landmarks both civic and industrial, including the Mass Pike, Howard Johnson’s, the North Shore, South Shore, Routes 3, 9, 90, 495 and of course 128, the Prudential, Quincy, Cohasset, Deer Island, Boston Harbor, Amherst, Needham, Ashland, Mattapan, Roslindale and Stop & Shop.

6.    “Roadrunner” celebrates Route 128, which opened in 1951, the year Richman was born, and came to be known as “America’s Technology Highway.” To this day, it still represents Massachusetts’ vibrant Innovation Economy.

7.    The many versions of “Roadrunner” contain lyrical variations and musical deviations that have inspired many passionate late-night conversations among rock music fans about which is the best version.

8.    “Roadrunner” has been consistently popular and relevant since its creation in 1970.

9.    “Roadrunner” has been described as the first punk song.

10. “Roadrunner” communicates its unbridled, unapologetic exuberance about youth, freedom and Massachusetts economically, using just two chords.

11.“Roadrunner” contains one of the most brilliant lyrics ever written: “going faster miles an hour.”

12.“Roadrunner” also has the greatest count off in rock history: “1-2-3-4-5-6!”

13. Rolling Stone ranked “Roadrunner” #269 on its “500 Greatest Rock Songs of All Time.”

14. A recent article in the Guardian UK convincingly made the case that the “Roadrunner” rock ‘n roll pilgrimage is just as important as those to Chuck Berry’s Route 66, Bob Dylan’s Highway 61, Robert Johnson’s Crossroads, Elvis Presley’s Graceland, and others.

15. Legendary rock critic Greil Marcus called “Roadrunner” “the most obvious song in the world, and the strangest,” which just proves that HE’S never driven Route 128 at night. Of course, he is not wrong.

16. “Roadrunner” is a song that describes the mystery of the modern Massachusetts landscape. It has taken the specifics of that mystery and captured the imaginations of people around the world who have internalized it as their own, creating awareness of and interest in our state.

17. It is an unabashed valentine to our beloved Commonwealth. It says “I’m in love with Massachusetts” right in the song!

There’s no question that “Roadrunner” deserves the designation this bill seeks to bestow, and I urge you to look favorably on its advancement, with the Radio On!

Thank you.

*********

The Committee will now decide whether to report it out favorably, unfavorably, or send it for study order. We want the first one. If your representative or senator is a member of the Joint Committee on State Administration and Regulatory Oversight, call them ASAP and ask them to act favorably on House Bill 1683, An Act Act Designating Roadrunner the Official Rock Song of the Commonwealth. Do NOT call a rep or senator who does not represent you. It's 110% ineffective. Also, a call is more effective than an email. By a LOT. So pick up the phone! You will find the committee list at the link. If you do not know who your rep is, go to this website and plug in your address!

More to come if it moves again!

Radio On!

On this last day of 2017, a year that EASILY makes my top 10 weirdest, I am worried about a LOT of things (that's another list), but also grateful about some others. Today, I will concentrate on the latter. Here is my list of top ten things for which I am grateful. It could probably be a top 14 or 19, but 10 is the agreed-upon arbitrary number for lists made this time of year. I'm an ex-rebel now. 

1.      I am grateful for Mercy, both the dog and the virtue. And if I had another dog, I’d name her Empathy.

2.      I am grateful for a handful of friends, without whom my life would be more chaotic. You know who you are.

3.      I am grateful for my old music business colleagues who stepped up this year to start The Shout Syndicate, to help raise money for youth arts programs in Boston, a sector that really needs the help in this particular funding landscape.

4.      I am grateful for people in the service industry: the guy who delivers my newspaper at 5 a.m. every day; the people who keep my house in good order and my car running, my clothes clean and presentable and my shoes in good working order; the woman who didn’t let me go gray; the people who look after the best girl ever when I can’t; the people who own and work at the restaurants and especially coffee places I patronize. And there are more.

5.      I am grateful for my brother and sister and sister-in-law, to whom I should talk more often. If you have lost your parents, you know how hard this can be. I’ve counseled many people to pay this extra attention, while I have not done enough myself. I will do better.

6.      I am grateful to my boss, who loves this City and does his best for its people every day, making difficult decisions often and enduring mean and blistering criticism sometimes. I am grateful for his one-day-at-a-time approach to life, and for his acknowledgement of the place from which anger sometimes comes. I am also grateful to him for letting me play a small part in what I think will be a great legacy, lasting long after we’re all gone.

7.      I am grateful for my colleagues, who are, by and large, dedicated public servants committed to making the world a better place. They are creative, caring and clever. I learn from them every day. Maligners don’t know what they are talking about.  

8.      I am grateful for my old community, the music misfits. It continues to amaze me that you can not see someone for a decade or two, and then reconnect as if you had just seen a show together yesterday, picking up right where you left off.

9.      I am grateful for good art, books and television that make me think and experience awe, and the smart people who make these things.

10.   I am grateful for good coffee. Life is too short to drink any other kind.

And, finally, I am grateful for MOST of you. 

Happy New Year!

This is my dog, Mercy, and these are some of the friends she has loved to death.

My take on last night’s show starring The Short-Fingered Vulgarian, Little Marco, Lyin’ Ted and Governor Aw,Shucks.

I did love the Mondrian/Partridge Family stage backdrop. That was the best part.

The festivities opened with The Short-Fingered Vulgarian being pressured to disavow the KKK, which he did after some clarification. “I thought they said AAA. I like them. My car broke down once. They helped me out. Sent a nice guy - Tyrone. Of course I disavow the KKK.”

There was manly talk of manly anatomy among the candidates, led by the S-FV. And involving Jazz Hands for some reason. (As a theatre fan, I admit I was drawn to this.) Now, this has certainly happened before, and no doubt in multi-partisan fashion, but I believe this to be the first time on stage. On television. In a debate. For the presidency. Of the United States. Of America.

Megyn Kelly asked Lyin’ Ted – I’m paraphrasing a little here – “Why are you such a losing loser in this race?” LT responded – and I am NOT paraphrasing now: “Obama!”

The S-FV was boasting about a million-vote lead in some contest or other. He said “A million is a lot of votes.” It’s not a lot of dollars if you’re the S-FV, but it’s a lot of votes. I believe he added that he is also up in the polls by a million percent.

Fox News person Bret Baier seems to be working on the beginnings of a hair tribute to the S-FV. I don’t know if there are any equal time rules on something like that.

Governor Aw,Shucks said he was the normal one up on the stage, which is true, unless you look at his record or talk to right-thinking people in Ohio.

LT described his vision for the tax code, describing a lone man in the Treasury Department receiving the postcards on which Americans pay their tiny taxes. Or something.

S-FV was defending his 2008 contribution to HRC’s campaign by saying it was a business decision, and he owed it to his family, his business and his country to make good business decisions. I assume this extends to his decision(s) to exploit the system and declare bankruptcy. A lot.

S-FV was continually pressed on his changing views of everything (except his manly anatomy), to which he continually responded “Flexible. Believe me. Winning because flexible. And I was off the record, so flexible.” He further explained that the Mexican-financed border wall might be 45 feet, might be 50, because flexible. Or something.

S-FV was crowing about his endorsement from Sheriff Joe Arpaio, which got me to thinking about the string resemblance between the Sheriff and the Burgermeister Meisterburger. (See photos.)

Little Marco commented that radical groups grow when they are given operating space. I agree with LM. Radical groups were given operating space in the GOP, and look where it has ended up!

S-FV was defending the extended use of torture, and added “We are starting this tonight and the subjects are the people watching this broadcast.”

S-FV was being pressed on his “flexible” views on Afghanistan and Iraq. He defended himself, saying “I thought you were asking if we should send afghans to Iraq. You know – blankets.”

It is a scientific fact that every time S-FV said “believe me” last night, an angel in heaven gauged out its eyeballs with a knitting needle.

S-FV pushed back on the revelation that Trump University was given a D- by the BBB. He said the rating was actually an A, and accused everyone there of not being flexible.

LM on Flint: “Heckuva job, Brownie!”

LT was asked why Detroit has fallen so far since the height of the auto industry. His answer was NOT because the right has done everything they can to break the back of labor over the last several decades.

LT was asked about gays adopting kids, and he said that is a states’ rights issue. He said gay people in gay states can adopt gay kids and they’ll all end up in gay hell.

There was talk of Scalia and the Second Amendment, and maybe I got confused at that point, but I am PRETTY SURE someone suggested that the next Supreme ascend to his (yes, his) seat by winning a duel. (“Number 1: The challenge, demand satisfaction…)

S-FV gave credit for the creation of Obamacare to Justice John Roberts. This obfuscation of the facts is understandable, given his undoubtedly hurt feelings at the drubbing he got yesterday by Obamacare’s ACTUAL creator, Mitty Cent.

Right before the debate, I was asked “What’s the ONE word that won’t be uttered during this debate.” I said, “Yoga.” Boy, was I wrong!

There was some kind of exchange about the leadership ability of Kim Jong Un. I think it was led by Don Il Trump, but not sure.

S-FV was underscoring the idea that his support comes from unlikely places when he said, “Even with ISIS, my poll numbers are high.”

Ben Carson contributed as much to this debate as he did to the last one.

LT loudly proclaimed his support for first responders at the end, but it’s said that he muttered “except in collective bargaining” at the end.

Posted February 14, 2016

My wrap up of last night's GOP debate:

Overall, it was full of argle-bargle, jiggery-pokery AND applesauce.

The Somnambulist (Yes. He is still there.) says life expectancy wasn’t as long when the Constitution was written, urging we take a more actuarial approach to SCOTUS appointments. Fair point. To solve this, they could appoint a poor person. They don’t live as long.

Sen. Eddie Munster said the Senate will do all it can to see the next president make the SCOTUS appointment to replace Scalia. Translation: “We're not going to allow Barack Obama to do his job, just as we've been doing for years now.”

Jeb! also says “nucular.”

The moderator missed an opportunity when he made reference to “extremists operating in many countries,” but failed to reference extremists operating on that stage last night.

Jeb! told The Donald Grump that W kept us safe from terrorism after 9/11. In fairness, Grump kept us safe from Omarosa.

Robotio said "I thank God that it was Bush in the White House on 9/11 and not Al Gore." But it's not God he should have thanked. It's Rehnquist, Scalia, and Thomas, et al.

Robotio said that parenting is the most important job any of us (except the gays) will ever do.

Romneycare, also known as Hillarycare took a beating last night.

Sen. Munster had this memorable quote: “I will rescind every illegal executive order on the legalization of illegal illegals issued by illegal Barack Obama.” And he meant it.

Grump said he was not “in love with eminent domain.” Fair enough, but he’s certainly attempted to take it home for a one night stand every now and again.

Grump talked a lot about consensus. Given his style, I am not 100% sure he’s using the word correctly.

Robotio scored when he said that South Carolina Governor Nikki Haley was doing a better job curing poverty than President Obama. It was masterful pandering albeit pure, documented bullshit.

The Somnambulist, on the other hand, knows that it’s Wall Street regulators who are standing in the way of poverty eradication. He said that all we have to do to get rid of poverty, is get rid of the regulators.

There was much bickering about Grump’s bankruptcies and Jeb!’s fiscal management of Florida, which led me to think it was too bad that Jeb! could not declare bankruptcy for Florida as Grump could for Trumpida.

During GOP Debates, I need to stop posting on Twitter reminders about Ronald Reagan's role in the spread of AIDS, because it invariably leads to a Twitter troll who wants to make sure I know that he didn't invent AIDS. I do understand that. He merely allowed for its rapid spread.

I had taken a little cough medicine prior to the debate, so when Frank Underwood appeared on the TV, I thought through the haze it was a walk-on, which would have been the best incidence of product placement ever. I was disappointed when I figure out it was just a commercial.

Gov. Aw, shucks of Ohio had a lot of Stuart Smalley moments, but the most smalleyesque came when he told EVERYONE they're special, not realizing that if EVERYONE is special, no one is.

Robotio was right about America's reputation being in decline around the world IF the rest of the world is watching this debate.

Sen. Munster asked if America wanted "another Washington deal maker," but should have added "OR someone Washington deal makers can't stand."

 The winner of the debate? NOT America.

(Pictured: Mercy's take on last night's TV viewing.)

Testimony in support of HB.2779, An Act designating “Roadrunner” as the official rock song of the Commonwealth, as prepared for delivery on October 20, 2105 at Hearing of Joint Committee on State Administration and Regulatory Oversight

Mr. Chairman, Members of the Committee, sophisticated music fans:

First, let me thank Senator Hedlund, Rep. Linsky and Rep. Garbally for sponsoring this bill. I am excited to be here to testify in support of HB.2779, An Act designating “Roadrunner” as the official rock song of the Commonwealth. I am proud to say I am the person who, in January 2013, asked Representative Walsh, now the Mayor of Boston, to introduce the first version of this bill, which failed to make it to the floor last session. We’re back, because a group of dedicated fans of the iconic song understand it symbolizes hope and optimism while professing its love of our home state. It is important, and the perfect song for this honor.

This has been an interesting journey. Over the nearly three years since the original bill was introduced, we’ve gotten a ton of press, with many stories in all the local media, plus Rolling Stone, Time, NPR, the BBC, the CBC and Gawker. A friend of mine in Tokyo said he heard me on the radio talking about Roadrunner. When an ill-conceived competing bill was introduced in 2013 to bestow the title on Aerosmith’s Dream On, there was even more national and international press. My favorite was an essay in Slate by Jack Hamilton, an assistant professor of American Studies at the University of Virginia, which talks about the Massachusetts paradox that made the Aerosmith episode so predictable. He said, “In a rock-snob worldview, the Modern Lovers’ failure at the moment of Aerosmith’s success is evidence of the former’s worth: Part of the reason the Modern Lovers are great is because everyone else loves Aerosmith.” Remember, in 1972, the year both Dream On and Roadrunner were recorded, Massachusetts was the only state to vote George McGovern for President. We revel in the obscure and esoteric. We punch above our weight. We root for the underdog. We wear our idiosyncrasies with pride. And sometimes, we can’t see the forest for the trees. It’s who we are.

Jonathan Richman, the eccentric genius who wrote the song has said that he doesn’t believe the song is good enough to be any kind of official song. This is exactly what many of us expected him to say, and it just adds to this already-great legend. But this isn’t really about the artist who created or performed the song at all. This is about a song that captures the very essence of the spirit of Massachusetts. And let’s acknowledge the first bill’s anti-climactic death. Of course it died. That we’re still spending time on this when it should have been done so long ago is testament to the fact that we sometimes can’t get out of our own way. And, no matter what happens from here, we will still have a great story.

It has been a blast. This story – indeed this song – captures imaginations around the world and communicates the very character of our Modern Massachusetts and her people.

With that, I give you 17 really quick reasons why “Roadrunner” should be the official rock song of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

1.    Jonathan Richman, who wrote the song, is a Massachusetts native, born in Natick.

2.    The Modern Lovers, his band, started out in the Boston area.

3.    Many of Richman’s songs reference growing up in Massachusetts.

4.    “Roadrunner” is an upbeat, youthful ode to the greatness of being alive, and the simple beauty of the Commonwealth.

5.    “Roadrunner” is a tribute to the urban landscape, with nods to Massachusetts landmarks both civic and industrial, including the Mass Pike, Howard Johnson’s, the North Shore, South Shore, Routes 3, 9, 90, 495 and of course 128, the Prudential, Quincy, Cohasset, Deer Island, Boston Harbor, Amherst, Needham, Ashland, Mattapan, Roslindale and Stop & Shop.

6.    “Roadrunner” celebrates Route 128, which opened in 1951, the year Richman was born, and came to be known as “America’s Technology Highway.” To this day, it still represents Massachusetts’ vibrant Innovation Economy.

7.    The many versions of “Roadrunner” contain lyrical variations and musical deviations that have inspired many passionate late-night conversations among rock music fans about which is the best version.

8.    “Roadrunner” has been consistently popular and relevant since its creation in 1970.

9.    “Roadrunner” has been described as the first punk song.

10. “Roadrunner” communicates its unbridled, unapologetic exuberance about youth, freedom and Massachusetts economically, using just two chords.

11.“Roadrunner” contains one of the most brilliant lyrics ever written: “going faster miles an hour.”

12.“Roadrunner” also has the greatest count off in rock history: “1-2-3-4-5-6!”

13. Rolling Stone ranked “Roadrunner” #269 on its “500 Greatest Rock Songs of All Time.”

14. A recent article in the Guardian UK convincingly made the case that the “Roadrunner” rock ‘n roll pilgrimage is just as important as those to Chuck Berry’s Route 66, Bob Dylan’s Highway 61, Robert Johnson’s Crossroads, Elvis Presley’s Graceland, and others.

15. Legendary rock critic Greil Marcus called “Roadrunner” “the most obvious song in the world, and the strangest,” which just proves that HE’S never driven Route 128 at night. Of course, he is not wrong.

16. “Roadrunner” is a song that describes the mystery of the modern Massachusetts landscape. It has taken the specifics of that mystery and captured the imaginations of people around the world who have internalized it as their own, creating awareness of and interest in our state.

17. It is an unabashed valentine to our beloved Commonwealth. It says “I’m in love with Massachusetts” right in the song!

There’s no question that “Roadrunner” deserves the designation this bill seeks to bestow, and I urge you to look favorably on its advancement, with the Radio On!

Thank you.

Charlie Ashmont, Dorchester, Mass. Feb. 14, 2004. What a good boy.

I’d like to introduce you to my new associate, Ami Bennitt. She is joining Ashmont Media as a Senior Account Executive, overseeing all of the day-to-day operations for all of our clients. Ami has been a long-time friend and colleague in the arts community, and we have shared roots in the music industry. I have long been impressed with her work, and have recommended her to potential clients many times, when my workload kept me from taking new projects.

This is a bittersweet note. As you may have heard, I have taken a great job in the administration of my dear friend, Boston’s new mayor, Martin J. Walsh. This was an unexpected turn of events; though I worked hard for his election, and played a lead role in his transition, I fully intended to return to Ashmont Media, the public relations business I have been building since 1999. But the Mayor offered me the job of his Chief of Policy, which means I get to lead a team that will drive ideas and initiatives from a city that often leads the way in the nation. I couldn’t say no.

Ami brings with her experience in media relations, marketing, events, and fundraising. Over her career she has served as Marketing and Public Relations Director at New Repertory Theatre, The Lyric Stage Company of Boston, Boston Theatre Works, and the New England Quilt Museum. Additionally, she founded/programmed two lowbrow visual art galleries: the Paradise Lounge Gallery (2002-2008) and SPACE 242 (2008-2012), and consulted arts clients through her Motor Media & Management including First Night Boston 2014, Kingston Gallery, Fourth Wall Project, former Mighty Mighty Bosstones’ founder Nate Albert’s solo act The Kickovers, and former Weezer bassist turned visual artist Mikey Welsh.

In the 90s, Ami was artist manager for international recording artists The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, and held posts at Nasty Little Man PR, High Noon Entertainment, PolyGram Group Distribution and Sony Music. She studied Arts and Entertainment Management at University of Massachusetts, Amherst and lives in Dorchester with her husband and two Australian Cattle Dogs.

Ami will officially begin February 3, but will help out on Ashmont projects until then. She may be reached by email at ami at ashmontmedia dot com.

I will still be overseeing and advising as I settle into my new role, which begins officially on February 3. I still remain active in Ashmont Records, the business I own with recording artist Joe Pernice. I don’t have my City Hall phone and email yet, but can always be reached at joyce at ashmontmedia dot com.

I have enjoyed working in the arts in Boston, and look forward to keeping the arts a priority from my new perch on the 5^th floor at City Hall.

I know what I said. Something like “I’d rather have all my teeth pulled.” Or “I don’t care what anyone says, I won’t.” Or “there’s no way on God’s green earth that will happen.” And I might have used saltier, more definitive language. I remember dismissing John Barros back in early November when he admonished me, saying “don’t say never.” He was right, and here we are. I was presented with the opportunity to help drive the policies of a progressive Mayor to whom I am devoted, in my beloved Boston. How could I say no? I have accepted the position of Chief of Policy in the Martin J. Walsh administration. I am the (second?) luckiest person I know. At a time when national policy is increasingly driven at the municipal level, I will be working on putting into action the values of a great leader, in the City that often leads the nation.

The year started like many before it, with me very happily living a great life, having built a solid public relations business with fantastic clients, surrounded by friends and immersed in all kinds of projects and causes. I was, as I have been for years, dabbling in elections as a volunteer. But in March, my dear friend, Marty Walsh, decided to run for Mayor. I committed to him on that very first night, and over the course of the year, I found myself first as his press person, and then becoming his Policy Director – a position the likes of which I’ve never held before. We assembled a team of hundreds of great, forward-thinking people, and worked together to articulate the values of our candidate – shared values. I learned so much, and had a blast, but had every intention of returning to my life after helping the Mayor-elect transition.

As inauguration day grew closer, I started to experience what can only be described as separation anxiety, but having publicly staked my claim, continued on with my original plan. However, last week, in a small meeting with some of his key transition advisors, the Mayor-elect said, “What if I wanted someone – just as an example – someone like Joyce Linehan, to keep track of our policy initiatives and work with City Hall cabinet heads to figure out how to do what we said we’d do?” Everyone around the table smiled and looked at me. Clearly, there had been at least one meeting to which I had not been invited.

How could I not do this? It’s a mid-life career change for sure – as well as a wholesale cultural change. Aside from one short summer between my junior and senior year of high school at the First National Bank of Boston, I have never actually worked in an office. I seldom wear shoes that aren’t sneakers. I do not own one business suit. This should be interesting.

It would seem that I am the only one who is truly surprised by this. As I have notified family, friends and clients, it has become apparent that this is not unexpected by anyone but me. I will be winding down with my existing clients, who have been great to me – ArtsEmerson, the ICA and the Boston Book Festival. I can’t shake Pernice though, and will continue to co-run the best little indie record label in Dorchester.

I am really excited about the future. So many great people work in City Hall – some who have been there for years, and some whose first day was January 6, 2014. And so many Bostonians care about our shared future. Happy New Year everyone. I’ll see you out there!

Below is the text of the testimony I gave at this morning's hearing on Roadrunner.

December 19, 2013

Joyce Linehan

Testimony in support of HB.3573, An Act designating “Roadrunner” as the official rock song of the Commonwealth

Hearing of Joint Committee on State Administration and Regulatory Oversight

Mr. Chairman, Members of the Committee:

I am excited to be here to testify in support of HB.3573, An Act designating “Roadrunner” as the official rock song of the Commonwealth. I am proud to say I am the person who asked Representative Walsh, now Boston Mayor-elect, back in January, to introduce this bill. As you have undoubtedly heard, he has had an interesting year, and in a funny way, this Roadrunner campaign became a cornerstone of a forward thinking arts and culture policy that I would argue helped in some small way to propel him to victory. As his campaign Policy Director, and currently his Transition co-chair, I can say the subject comes up frequently, because to a group of dedicated fans of the iconic song who understand it symbolizes hope and optimism while professing its love of our home state, it is important. At the very least, it was a good luck charm, and it would be fitting, as he leaves the House, for the loop to be closed and this bill to be passed.

This was never meant to be a competition. If we’re going to recognize the most popular song, the song that has sold the most copies and generated the most revenue, then let’s just withdraw the Roadrunner bill now and be done with it. Truthfully, as much as I loved the publicity that resulted when a competing bill was introduced, (because very few things give me greater joy than extolling the virtues of “Roadrunner”) I was crestfallen. It’s a false equivalent, and if those who support the other bill can’t see that, then I can’t argue with them. They are both SONGS, but that’s where it ends. The other song is a great song by a great band who have been great citizens of our great Commonwealth. They’ve been generous to charity and ambassadors of our state around the world. But this isn’t about that. This isn’t really about the artist who created or performed the song at all. This is about a song that I believe captures the very essence of the spirit Massachusetts.

With that, I give you 17 reasons why “Roadrunner” should be the official rock song of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

1. Jonathan Richman, who wrote the song, is a Massachusetts native, born in Natick.
2. The Modern Lovers, his band, started out in the Boston area.
3. Many of Richman’s songs reference growing up in Massachusetts.
4. “Roadrunner” is an upbeat, youthful ode to the greatness of being alive, and the simple beauty of the Commonwealth.
5. “Roadrunner” is a tribute to the urban landscape, with nods to Massachusetts landmarks both civic and industrial, including the Mass Pike, Howard Johnson’s, the North Shore, the South Shore, Routes 3, 9, 90, 495 and of course 128, the Prudential, Quincy, Cohasset, Deer Island, Boston Harbor, Amherst, Needham, Ashland, Mattapan, Roslindale  and Stop & Shop.
6. “Roadrunner” celebrates Route 128, which opened in 1951, the year Richman was born, and came to be known as “America’s Technology Highway.” To this day, it still represents Massachusetts’ vibrant Innovation Economy.
7. The many versions of “Roadrunner” contain lyrical variations and musical deviations that have inspired many passionate late-night conversations among rock music fans about which is the best version.
8. “Roadrunner” has been consistently popular and relevant since its creation in 1970.
9. “Roadrunner” has been described as the first punk song.
10. “Roadrunner” communicates its unbridled, unapologetic exuberance about youth, freedom and Massachusetts essentially and economically using just two chords.
11. “Roadrunner” contains one of the most brilliant lyrics ever written: “going faster miles an hour.”
12. “Roadrunner” also has the greatest count off in rock history: “1-2-3-4-5-6!”
13.  Rolling Stone ranked “Roadrunner” #269 on its “500 Greatest Rock Songs of All Time.”
14.  A recent article in the Guardian UK convincingly made the case that the “Roadrunner” rock ‘n roll pilgrimage is just as important as those to Chuck Berry’s Route 66, Bob Dylan’s Highway 61, Robert Johnson’s Crossroads, Elvis Presley’s Graceland, and others.
15.  Legendary rock critic Greil Marcus called “Roadrunner” “the most obvious song in the world, and the strangest,” which just proves that HE’S never driven Route 128 at night. Of course, he is not wrong.
16.  “Roadrunner” is a song that describes the mystery of the modern Massachusetts landscape. It has taken the specifics of that mystery and captured the imaginations of people around the world who have internalized it as their own, creating awareness of and interest in our state.
17.  It is an unabashed valentine to our beloved Commonwealth. It says “I’m in love with Massachusetts” right in the song!

There’s no question that “Roadrunner” deserves the designation this bill seeks to bestow, and I urge you to look favorably on its advancement, with the Radio On!

Thank you.

Marty called the night we learned of Mayor Menino’s decision, to tell me he was running for mayor. I fully committed to him without hesitation. “Whatever you need.” We’ve known each other a long time, and we’ve worked closely together on many things, including the elections of Barack Obama, Deval Patrick, and Elizabeth Warren (we delivered 83% of the Dorchester vote under his leadership), as well as the U.S. Senate campaign of Mike Capuano, in which, for the record, we handily won Dorchester. He also asked me to help out on the first two city council campaigns for John Connolly (which I did), and introduced me to Felix Arroyo, who I have also supported in the past. I have several friends in this race, and we’re lucky to have a good field of candidates. But there is no better candidate for Mayor of Boston than Marty Walsh.

Early on, one reporter called to ask why I wasn’t waiting to see if a woman gets into the race. She was surprised when I told her that Marty has a great legislative record on women’s issues, and I had no doubt that he would continue to fight for my rights at every turn. Not all feminists are women, just like not all women are feminists. Marty is a feminist. Ask him. He’ll tell you. He’ll talk about pay equity, and a woman’s right to choose. He’ll mention buffer zones around abortion clinics, and access to birth control, a lack of sports programs for girls and how badly he wants to put an end to human trafficking. I realize that most of you don’t have my vantage point in this, and haven’t seen the way he is genuinely moved when someone is being abused or treated unfairly. But – here’s the difference – he has introduced bills in the legislature that address these things, and voted on these very issues. It’s easy to state a position; it’s harder to legislate one.

Other people asked if I was with him just because we’re friends. I told them that’s about 10% of my reasoning, but the other 90% was because of his record, and his character. I’ve seen his work in the trenches, and been on the other end of a broken lunch date because someone needed a detox bed, or a re-entry program. Marty and I have worked extensively together on issues of substance abuse, which has touched both of our families. I’d bet anything it’s touched every single one of yours as well. Marty is a person who will stop at nothing to help people in need. I have also seen him walk into a room full of my friends – super progressives – many of whom have an idea, based on his demographic, that he is a vestige of another time. They all walk away supporters, impressed by a guy with a depth and breadth of knowledge and compassion, and an openness and willingness to listen. They’re converted. This is why so many of my friends are actually working on this campaign.

Marty has it all as a candidate and a leader. Where other candidates may appear to be superficial, Marty has an impressive grasp of issues of economic development, workforce development, education and public safety, but more importantly, an understanding of the root causes of the problems that hold us back in these areas. Through this campaign, I have been continually impressed during policy discussions, when the ideas are flowing and people are excited, and Marty steps in with the concept that just crystallizes the position, and then leads us to the idea that will help solve the problem. His ability to do this is rooted in his willingness to listen to people and acknowledge different points of view. He has a great analytical mind, and a nuts-and-bolts knowledge of the way policy is moved.

I’ve never seen anyone with a greater gift for bringing disparate voices to a table, leading them to their common goals, and getting them to work together toward the solution. He has done this time and time again over an impressive career, but two instances stand out for me.

I think many of us have forgotten, now that we have led the rest of the country to see that diverse families actually STRENGTHEN our communities, what a contentious time we saw in Massachusetts when a few “family values” interests attempted to put the issue on the ballot, after the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts affirmed equal marriage. It’s easy to forget. It was a long time ago. Ten years later, it’s all so normal. But then, it wasn’t, and as the Massachusetts house began to debate the issue, LGBTQ leaders on Beacon Hill went to Marty to lead their fight. They knew that having a white Irish Catholic man from Dorchester make the case would sway the votes they needed to defeat the measure. So, he acted as the Floor Whip for MassEquality during the debate. Marty didn’t hesitate when asked, despite the fact he knew there would be considerable resistance from the conservative corners of his very diverse district. Leaders of that movement continue to single him out for his assistance, and he calls it his proudest vote. From what I have seen, all but two of the 12 candidates in this race are on the right side of the equality issue, but only one has had to stand up, facing resistance from his base, and vote on it.

The second thing everyone needs to know about Marty is that he started a program called Building Pathways. When he became the head of the Building Trades a few years ago, he looked out over a room of white men, and realized the trades needed to diversify. He conceived this first-of-its-kind pre-apprenticeship program that guarantees union placement and well-paying jobs to underserved communities, mostly people of color and women. There are many apprenticeship programs, but this is the only one that guarantees placement, and it has become a national model. There was resistance from the trades, but Marty persevered, and now they compete for the graduates. There has been a lot of talk about Building Pathways on the campaign trail, because the idea of offering opportunity to people appeals to many. I’ve really enjoyed meeting the graduates of this program. They are impressive people who have so much to offer the world, and this opportunity Marty created and they pursued will allow them to do this. That’s good for our City. The piece of this I really like though comes from a different perspective; a program like this actually strengthens the unions. As populations change, unions must change to stay relevant. This relates to reframing the conversation around Labor, and communicating its importance as an economic driver in Boston and around the country. As the income gap grows larger, and the very existence of the middle class is threatened, we need to organize more than ever. We won’t be able to do that until some of the unions themselves evolve, and I see Building Pathways as a piece of this evolution.

In his 17 year career on Beacon Hill, and as a community activist before that, he has accomplished great things. Dorchester is a MUCH better place for his service. When I talk to someone from our neighborhood who is supporting someone else, I point to the Red Line stations that spurred so much development here; Pope John Paul II Park and the Neponset Trail; Carney Hospital, still open despite MANY attempts to close it; all of the sports and arts and social programs he has championed. The list goes on and on. Thankfully, most of them get it.

Marty Walsh is my friend, and he is my candidate for Mayor. I say this loudly, unequivocally and without reservation. What I can also say without equivocation is that he is the best candidate in this race. I am asking you personally to cast your vote for him on Tuesday. I promise that if you think you share my values, it's a vote you'll never regret.

Joyce Linehan

So, I am 99% OK, but I got hit by a car yesterday. It was as close a call as I have ever had, and I am grateful that I wasn’t badly hurt. As the car was coming toward me, I really thought I was in trouble.

I was coming out of Sweet Life, having picked up some food for a meeting I was having at my house. I was crossing Dot Ave., when a car pulled out of the Pat’s Pizza Parking lot, trying to make the left on to Dot Ave. He never even looked to his right, according to a witness, and I never saw him coming. As I stood there in the middle of Dot. Ave., paralyzed, arms full of a platter of food, watching the red Volvo come right at me, and bracing for the impact to my legs, what flashed through my mind? Not “Oh my God, who will take care of Charlie if I’m hurt?” or “Oh my God, how will I pay my bills if I can’t work?” Nope. It was “Oh my god, the campaign!”

I don’t really know what happened. I know there was a mass casualty of sandwiches, but I managed to save the coconut caramel shortbreads, which, you know if you have tasted them, is very important. I didn’t go down. I took the hit with my legs, and have a little bruising, but they never buckled. Practical application of Bikram Yoga. All that standing on one leg has made them both rock solid. I was pretty shook up, and a little confused, and couldn’t really move from the street. As people came out to help me, the driver, who was a scared young man clearly driving his Dad’s car, got out to say he was sorry. I couldn’t really say anything, but someone there said “You need to pull over and write your name and license number.” While we waited for that to happen, several people told me they thought I needed an ambulance, but it was 4:10 and I had people coming to the house for a 4:30 campaign meeting, so I didn’t have time for an ambulance. Kristen from Sweet Life came out and said they were making more sandwiches, and would bring them to the house, which was very nice of her. Pat from Pat’s Pizza had also come out and was being very helpful, staying with me until he thought I was OK to drive.

We had the meeting – Marty, me and a few others, and I didn’t tell anyone what had happened. After it was over, I called Marty and said, “I got hit by a car.” He said, “Yeah, I know. That meeting was brutal.” And I said, “No, Marty, not figuratively. Literally. I was literally hit by a car, right before the meeting.” I told him the story, and he told me I cannot, under any circumstances, get hit by a car before the election. If you see me being helped across the street by any young men who look like they might be in construction, that’s just my new security detail.

I thought about not posting this, because as I was thinking about it, I of course thought of Bill McDermott, my friend, without whose help I might not have been able to purchase Ashmonticello. Bill was killed after being hit by a car in February. He was a close advisor to Congressman Lynch, who of course was running for the U.S. Senate at the time. But then I thought about Bill and his daughter, my friend Deirdre, and realized that they, of all (Irish) people, would have seen the gallows humor in the idea that multiple Boston political operatives were being hit by cars.

Anyway, this morning I went back to Bikram, and was pretty sore. Though I wasn’t hurt when I was hit, I must have tensed up waiting for the impact. But after completing that 90-minute class, walking four miles in the baking sun in the Dorchester Day Parade, and then spending a couple of hours at the Ashmont Grill with a pal, picking off votes, one-by-one for Marty, I’m ready to declare that I was unhurt in the incident.

Onward!

Massachusetts, spread the word.

Please call your rep now and ask her or him to call Rep. Marty Walsh's office to sign on to co-sponsor HD3506: An Act designating the song “Roadrunner” as the official rock song of the commonwealth.

If you don't know who to call, check here.

Here's the Phoenix article about the campaign.

And the Globe article.

Sorry I couldn't get HD123456!

The best part - at some point there will be a public hearing at the State House - probably in April or May, where you can all testify about WHY this should happen. It's possible we could be challenged by another song, but I'm not worried. If there are two things we know how to do, they are 1) run a grassroots campaign and 2) put on a show!

Why I will not be packed: 1) I was at Ashmonticello to receive assorted deliveries at 7 am. 2) Instead of driving by Standish Village, I stopped in, where I found that my aunt had forgotten to get her breakfast, so I took care of that. 3) I stopped for coffee, and when getting back into the car, I smacked myself in the head really hard with my car door, causing blood to stream down my face. (I heard a guy ask someone else if I was OK, but he didn't ask me!) 4) While driving home, I was flagged down by some neighbors trying to catch a stray dog that has been running around the neighborhood for a couple of days. I spent about 20 minutes coaxing the poor thing into a crate and brought him home. 5) I called Animal Control (should really be called Animal CARE and Control) and had to wait for them come take him. 6) Was feeling woozy, so decided to go to the ER to check on the giant goose egg on my head. I may have a concussion. I will be OK, but will probably have a black eye. 7) I did get the pie though, so Thanksgiving isn't ruined. Yet.