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We started the day fairly early because we had an hour-long drive to Boston. Mary and I had breakfast at the inn while Robin packed up and transferred rooms from the third (scary) floor to the more mundane second floor.
We drove for an hour, and Mother Nature was kind: no rain, just grey skies and the threat of more moisture.
The drive was pleasant, with little traffic until we got into town.
Our first stop was Paul Revere’s Home, and we parked underneath the Boston Common and walked the rest of the way. Boston Common is a historic public park in downtown Boston, Massachusetts. Established in 1634, it is the oldest public park in the United States. Originally used for grazing cattle, military training, and public gatherings, it later became an important site for protests, celebrations, and civic events.
Today, Boston Common is part of the Emerald Necklace park system and connects to the Boston Public Garden. It features walking paths, monuments, open lawns, the Frog Pond, and access to the Freedom Trail. It remains a popular place for locals and visitors to relax, explore history, and enjoy outdoor events.
Robin spotted the first sign for Paul Revere’s house, and we headed in that direction. It was only two blocks away!
His house was in great shape for a 300-year-old building. Paul Revere’s home, known as the Paul Revere House, is a historic house in Boston’s North End. Built around 1680, it is the oldest building still standing in downtown Boston. Paul Revere, the famous patriot and silversmith, lived there with his family from 1770 to 1800.
The house is best known for its connection to Revere’s role in the American Revolution, especially his famous midnight ride in 1775 to warn colonial leaders that British troops were moving. Today, the house is a museum that showcases colonial life, featuring period furniture, exhibits on Revere’s work, and information about his family and revolutionary activities.
Here is “Paul Revere’s Ride” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:
Paul Revere’s Ride
Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five:
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.He said to his friend, “If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,—
One, if by land, and two, if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm.”Then he said “Good-night!” and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street,
Wanders and watches, with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers
Marching down to their boats on the shore.Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry-chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,—
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town,
And the moonlight flowing over all.Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night-encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel’s tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, “All is well!”
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,—
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse’s side,
Now gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry-tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry’s height,
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns!A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet:
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders, that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.It was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer’s dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.It was two by the village clock,
When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadows brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket-ball.You know the rest. In the books you have read
How the British Regulars fired and fled,—
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farmyard-wall,
Chasing the red-coats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,—
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo forevermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.
We walked through the house, and it was hard to imagine what it was like 300 years ago.
Each room was small and unique. Every room had a fireplace or something to keep people warm. The people were about two inches shorter than they are today. Everything was handmade; no IKEA here!
A friendly spirit captured our image.
On our way back to the car, the girls found Nirvana, so we stopped. They ran across the street, and I perched myself on a narrow seat and ate!!
We made it to the car, drove to Cheers, and found parking nearby. We thought it would be crowded, but we got in with no wait!!
We spotted the Cheers Flag, went downstairs, and stepped back in time.
The actual bar in Boston was originally called the Bull & Finch Pub (84 Beacon Street). The show used its exterior in the opening transition scenes, but filmed nearly all interior scenes on a soundstage at Paramount Studios in Los Angeles, with a live studio audience. The real Boston pub’s interior layout looks completely different from the famous television set, though it later added a partial replica set upstairs for visitors.
I expected average food but was pleasantly surprised to find a first-class meal. We all enjoyed our selections, and I especially enjoyed the drinks!
We laughed, giggled, and told stories the entire time.
We made our way back to the car, headed north to Colleen’s home, and then departed for The Silver Fountain to get two hours’ rest before the party started again.
Colleen and Mark picked us up at the inn at 5:45 pm, and we went to dinner.
I went for the fruit off the sea! It was perfect, and it contained a load of fruit!!!
Jon was having a great time talking about eating Bambi!
Dinner was only a few blocks from our inn, so they dropped us off, and we headed straight to bed. Sightseeing is arduous, especially for old people!
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