Boston Magazine reports Bryon Hefner is registered to vote in Amherst, which is just a bit out of the 1st Suffolk and Middlesex state-senate district he said yesterday he might like to try his hand at representing. Legally, at least, that's not a problem - as long as he changes his registration to his Beacon Hill home before the election.
State Rep. Jay Livingstone (D-Back Bay) announced last night he's running for the 1st Suffolk and Middlesex senate seat being vacated by Anthony Petruccelli.
His announcement came only hours after neighboring state Rep. Aaron Michlewitz (D-North End) announced he wasn't going to run for the seat. Read more.
Boston snapped these cherry blossoms on Boston Common today.
Ed. note: A lot less glamorous, but down the street from us, somebody's yard is full of dandelions.
WBZ reports on the anonymous Good Samaritan.
Around 2:40 p.m. Transported to Mass. General.
NorthEndWaterfront.com reports state Sen. Anthony Petruccelli is resigning for a job at Kearney, Donovan & McGee, a downtown lobbying firm. His district includes the North End, East Boston and Beacon Hill.
The folks who oversee the Frog Pond report their Zamboni is hard at work today, getting the surface just right for the opening of skating season at 10 a.m. on Friday.
Saturday evening near the Longfellow, WBZ reports.
After robbing a Charles Street bank this afternoon, a con who has spent much of the last two decades in federal prison and a pal tried to make their getaway in a medallion cab - only to be arrested 15 minutes later in Charlestown, thanks to a witness who spotted the cab's hackney number, which let police track its GPS. Read more.
I met you in the rain on the last day of 1972, the same day I resolved to kill myself.
One week prior, at the behest of Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger, I'd flown four B-52 sorties over Hanoi. I dropped forty-eight bombs. How many homes I destroyed, how many lives I ended, I'll never know. But in the eyes of my superiors, I had served my country honorably, and I was thusly discharged with such distinction.
And so on the morning of that New Year's Eve, I found myself in a barren studio apartment on Beacon and Hereford with a fifth of Tennessee rye and the pang of shame permeating the recesses of my soul. When the bottle was empty, I made for the door and vowed, upon returning, that I would retrieve the Smith & Wesson Model 15 from the closet and give myself the discharge I deserved.
I walked for hours. I looped around the Fenway before snaking back past Symphony Hall and up to Trinity Church. Then I roamed through the Common, scaled the hill with its golden dome, and meandered into that charming labyrinth divided by Hanover Street. By the time I reached the waterfront, a charcoal sky had opened and a drizzle became a shower. That shower soon gave way to a deluge. While the other pedestrians darted for awnings and lobbies, I trudged into the rain. I suppose I thought, or rather hoped, that it might wash away the patina of guilt that had coagulated around my heart. It didn't, of course, so I started back to the apartment.
And then I saw you.