When the queen and prince visited Boston and gave us a bird

Queen Elizabeth and Mayor White in 1976

In 1976, Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip let bygones be bygones and visited Boston as part of the Revolution bicentennial. The British Consulate in Boston has posted some photos from the visit, including one of Gov. Dukakis welcoming the Queen at Logan Airport and this one of Mayor White bringing her into Boston City Hall.

On July 11, Prince Phillip presented an eagle statue to the Bostonian Society:



Free tagging: 


Something to look forward to

Maybe in 200 years we'll be laughing about that time in history when the US president wanted to build a 3000 mile wall on the southern border and some people were scared to death of Muslims.

They will also ponder why so

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They will also ponder why so few public school graduates knew the difference between a border and a boarder.


Maybe in 200 years auto-complete technology would have improved.


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The boarders wanted to cross the border?

Should have

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Made her walk a block over to the Boston Massacre site.

Trust me, there is still much

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Trust me, there is still much animosity between Ireland and England. You won't hear it so much publicly, but you will still hear the hate speaking with the "natives". I say that as someone with friends and family from Ireland.

On September 10, 2001, I remember listening to the news about protestants throwing rocks at catholic children on their way to school. The events on the following day has drowned out a lot of other news, and still does. The hate is a two way street and runs very deep.

Saw Kevin White on Beacon Hill

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one time; he was very well dressed and elegant.I particularly remember his beautiful cashmere coat. I was a punk teenage boy and he acted like In was going to jump him or ask for $.

Encountered Ray Flynn maybe 5 or so years after that. Very nice guy.

misread that title...

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I thought this was about Queen and Prince visiting Boston and was profoundly disappointed by the lack of epic stadium rock.

Day We Celebrate

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I still remember precisely that I finished the same evening very late at a place in the South End called Matt Talbot's, glancing once again at the Thomas Nast lampoon of my ancestors on the wall and, on a shelf behind the bar, the portrait of Lenin slouched against an ebbing tide of Chivas Regal. On the way into the men's room, a total stranger told me that, if you listened to Beethoven's C sharp minor string quartet, you could tell his deafness had gotten out of hand, and I wholeheartedly agreed.