The Granny Diaries by Sam Tofias

Dateline:  Boston.  Hi, all.  This is Sam Tofias, your roving cub reporter.  My assignment this weekend?  To cover the first visit of blogger, Ellen Ross. I nabbed this plum job because the literary scene is part of my beat- and Ellen just happens to be my granny.

So hang on to your fedoras.  Here we go.

Day One.  A welcome party- composed of my mother, Natasha, and my father, Zach and yours truly- was dispatched to pick up Granny when she landed at Logan Airport this past Friday morning.

Truth be told, we were not there to greet her.  The reception committee was a little delayed because yours truly was hungry and having a snack at home.  But my granny was texted by my amanuensis- aka Mom- and all was put right in a trice.

There were hugs all around and big smiles.  That’s what I like to refer to as the “Sam Effect.”  People get a glimpse of two month old me and they break into grins.  But this story is about my granny and her whirlwind visit.

From the airport, we drove her downtown to the heart of Boston.  Newbury Street was très chic and then we strollered on to Commonwealth Avenue.  Btw, my first time on the Commons. The swan boats looked pretty nifty, and the Make Way For The Ducklings sculpture was awesome. Dad found a duckling just my size for me to ride on.

The weather was steamy, and all that duck rodeoing made me pretty thirsty.  So I paged Mom and we all sashayed into the cool and elegant Loew’s Boston Hotel so I could grab a drink.  Did you know that this hotel used to be Boston’s Police Headquarters?  As the guidebook says, the hotel is a “unique and unforgettable blend of historic charm, urbane sophistication and authentic New England hospitality.”

(And the changing table in the ladies’ room is pretty comfy, too.)

Now that I was all refreshed, I  cordially invited my granny to lunch at the Met Back Bay. Mom likes the burgers there, and Dad and Granny had chopped salads.

After lunch, we strolled around for a while, but the heat and humidity were making me feel less than my best and I decided to call it a day.

Dad took us all back home, and while we talked and laughed and reminisced, Dad made his world famous gazpacho.

Then my Boston grandparents- Bruce and Debbie- came by to see Granny and me. They stayed for dinner and I heard them all raving about Dad’s soup.  Here’s the recipe, all you foodies.

I can’t wait to try it myself.  (Although I overheard my mom telling my granny that I’m on a lactose-tolerant diet for a year.  That’s what all the best babies are eating these days.)

Sorry I can’t fill you in on the rest of the night.  I had a hot date with my pillow and I bid them all a fond good night.

And so to bed.

Saturday morning, I was up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and anxious to show off my home town.  I had already had a dee-lish breakfast chez nous, and so we made a dash to Zaftig’s, a deli to die for.  And then it was on to the mall for shopping.  (Already one of my favorite activities.)

While Dad made a beeline for Banana Republic (something about buying pants for conference calls from his home office?) Mom, Granny and I went to the Gap.  Mom tried on clothes while Granny and I danced to The Talking Heads’ Life During Wartime. Awesome song, btw.  Check it out.

And then it was time for Baby Gap.  Granny returned a hat that she bought at Gap in Chicago.  Too small.  (My head is large due to all the deep, brilliant thinking I do.) Then she picked up a cool football jersey and Mom decided I needed khakis for some up-c0ming social events.

I left the shop and I must admit I was stylin.’

The weather continued very hot and muggy so I decreed an auto tour was in order. Granny had never seen Walden Pond- except in her imagination- so we headed there.

Then it was tally ho to Concord.  The grown ups in my retinue went gaga for The Cheese Shop.  They bought a picnic for dinner at home – enough cheese, batards, charcuterie and cornichons to feed an army of Minutemen.  Just take a gander at some of the yummy comestibles they carry right here.

Then it was time for me to head home.  All that fresh air and free-associating about transcendentalism brought on by shades of Emerson and Thoreau made me drowsy.  (Oh, on the way out of Concord, Mom pointed out Louisa May Alcott’s house to Granny.  First time either of us had ever seen it.)

Dinner at my house and then it was lights out for yours truly.  I was tuckered out from all the driving and sight-seeing.

Sunday morning was leisurely.  Dad and I perambulated about the ‘hood, and Mom and Granny went to Weston to buy bagels.  Then at-home activities.  Granny had brought my mother’s very own baby book and we were quite interested in comparing my weight and height stats with hers.  I’m bigger!

Here’s a shot of us three.  (Photo courtesy of Granny.  Baby blanket courtesy of my Granny’s mom, my great-granny.  It’s sixty years old, btw.)

Then Granny “interviewed” Mom and Dad and she jump-started my baby book.  Lots more fascinating info/data to be recorded about your roving reporter, but there’s plenty of time for all that.

Before we knew it, it was time to start thinking about the airport.  We piled into the car and headed for lunch at Santarpio’s on Chelsea Street for pizza.  My granny- being from Chicago- is a ‘za maven, and she swooned for the house-made sausage appetizer.

Santarpio’s is right next to Logan, and after lunch we dropped my Granny off.  More hugs and kisses and then, just as fast as she had arrived, she was gone.

But she promised to send me a cool stuffed zebra when she gets home. I can honestly report that a good time was had by all.

And now, my eyelids are getting pretty heavy and you’ll have to excuse me.  I feel a nap coming on.

That’s it for my special report from Boston.  I now turn it over to my granny.

Thanks, Sam.  I had a wonderful time in Boston but I can’t help noticing the date of this post.  Every one remembers what they were doing thirteen years ago today.

We all bore witness to acts of terrorism, cowardice, courage, sacrifice, and bravery. We shall never forget what happened in New York City- and to all of us- on September 11, 2001.

I hope that the world that Sam lives in will be a better, safer, more tolerant place.  And who knows?  Maybe he will be part of the universal citizenry who will help make it so.

This is my prayer for my grandchild- and all of yours.

God bless us everyone.