Commuter rail

2026-03-29 - 18:11

The 9:48 a.m. train was already at Reading Station. Six of us in two cars had risen early for our special day in Boston. Our spots in the commuter lot were furthest from the train. We wheeled Bedros, paraphernalia and all, up the ramp aside the last car, stowed the stroller and climbed to the upper level. With rush hour over and many seats open, we chose three toward the rear. This was Bedros’ inaugural choo-choo trip and he was excited. Becky and I hadn’t been on an MBTA vehicle since before COVID-19. Julie had the tickets on her phone and showed them to the conductor, Anthony, who appeared seconds after we seated. He presented our little green tickets, which we placed in sleeves atop the seats. Bedros immediately grabbed his ticket, of course prompting infantile banter among us about why he had to return the ticket to its slot. Anthony bailed us after he dug into his pocket and extracted for Bedros an Honorary MBTA Commuter Rail Conductor sticker. The two cozied up immediately. Anthony gushed about train traveling with his nephew, age four. Eyeing autos passing by, Bedros began whooping up. The few other riders smiled, raising their eyes from their laptops. Folks on the train reminded me of my own erstwhile train story. Mom, my sisters and I rode the then-so-cool, silver, Budliner North Station to Lynn to spend the day with Grandma and Grandpa. We kept waiting for the conductor to come by. As we approached Lynn, he still hadn’t shown up. Eventually, we arrived but he did not. We detrained and searched for another conductor. None around. Finally, Mom looked at us and said it was our lucky day. Off we went. Our destination this trip was Boston’s Aquarium to celebrate Bedros’ second birthday. It was March and the weather was cooperating, having been record-breakingly warm the day before. Although our travel day was cooler and windier, we decided to forgo the subway and walk the half mile to the Aquarium via Rose Kennedy Greenway. We passed Armenian Heritage Park and admired the annually reconfigured sculpture honoring victims of Genocide. Next, we passed the Greenway Carousel and the idle Ferris Wheel beside it. We arrived at the Aquarium, got discounted tickets (thanks to our local library) and were fortunate to be greeted by smiling white-bellied seals in the small tank before the front entrance. Bedros called to his gliding friends in his two year old’s lingo, which only he and the seals understood. In the Aquarium, we were among many adults with young children. Older kids were in school. We felt kinship with the others, being entertained and educated by aquatic residents. Bedros ambled up the ramp with his mom and dad. I steered the empty carriage, thinking back to when I chaperoned my sons in the same building decades ago. At the gift shop, Julie’s mom Claire bought Bedros a book of stickers to join the one Anthony gave. Bedros was happy, and so were we. Like Biblical Maji, we took a different route back to North Station. Inspired by the Armenian monument, we passed through the glass towers of the New England Holocaust Memorial. To the North End and an exquisite Italian lunch of different pizzas we went. Again I reminisced about dining often with family and friends in wonderful restaurants of the Italian district. Our waiter, whose name was also Anthony, grasped it was Bedros’ birthday. As we were finishing, he and his fellow staff surprised us with birthday tiramisu, gratis. Bedros loved it as he sang ‘Happy Birthday’ along with them. A few tries and he blew out the candles. He’s not too experienced. Sometimes, and certainly not often enough, we all have one of those days where all’s good, people are nice and all’s right with the world. Even Becky’s horoscope was favorable. Someday, Bedros may think back fondly on this day.