“I am a drinker with writing problems.”
~ Brendan Behan
I’m finishing up my week in Boston, wandering through my old places, being with friends and doing some serious healing. It’s been an overwhelming, normal, weird, gorgeous, confusing trip.
One of the places I spent a lot of time when I lived in Jamaica Plain was at the Behan. A hole-in-the-wall Irish bar, with ties to New Orleans, that hosts live Irish music jams most nights, and allows dogs as well as bringing in your own food…it may be my heaven. With the MSPCA next door, the open-door dog policy guarantees some quality puppy time. Their tap list is incredible, too. Okay, I just want to move in.
A huge part of life I am still learning to build is my community. While I love our cabin in the woods, it doesn’t afford many places to engage with progressive 20/30-something dog and beer loving folk. It’s more the Pizza Hut Wal-Mart Big Truck type place.
While I’ve met some really great people, we definitely don’t have a Behan. And that’s okay.
What I’m trying to embrace is shaping the spaces that are here into ones in which I can thrive. It takes a lot more patience and listening to babies cry than I’m used to (sometimes I worry babies are a bit of a pass-time up here). But beyond the surface differences there is a real care for the area and its institutions.
We could use a good bar, though.