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Boston Globe
3 days ago
- Politics
- Boston Globe
How a Haymarket fishmonger I met years ago reminded me there's still true grace in the world
Several years after I finished college, I landed a job in Government Center, just a block from Haymarket. And so, on Fridays after work, I started doing my produce shopping there again. Over time, the demographics of the vendors changed. Sellers with Italian backgrounds began to share the space with Vietnamese women, Central Americans, and Arabic-speaking men. What had been an ethnic monopoly was becoming a melting pot. There were also a few fishmongers. I got friendly with one named Ray. He was old school, but a really sweet guy. He'd tell me what was fresh and what to stay away from. Ray was having medical problems, and maybe 15 years ago, after some tough winters had taken their toll, Florida beckoned. Ray heeded its call, sold his fish stand, and bid Boston adieu. Advertisement Ray sold to a short, dark-haired, bearded Middle Eastern guy with a great smile. He had a couple of helpers, so he was happy to spend a little time chatting with customers like me. Sometimes, we'd even talk politics, candidly sharing views on sensitive subjects. After I retired from my Government Center job seven years ago, my schedule rarely brought me near Haymarket on a Friday or Saturday. So, when I ventured there after the protest march, I was curious to see what I'd find. The fruits and veggies looked good, and I wound up with several plastic bagsful. I moved on to the fish stands. There, behind the long metal trays displaying the day's catch, was the fishmonger I'd done business with years ago. As I approached his stand, his eyes widened. 'Hello, my old friend,' he said enthusiastically. 'How have you been?' Smiling, we both acknowledged how good it was to see each other again after these many years. He told me his leg was aching a lot, that he'd been thinking his days running the stand were numbered, and that he might return home. 'Neither of us is getting any younger,' I said. After we reintroduced ourselves — his name was Mahmoud — I asked, 'Please remind me, where's home?' 'Egypt,' he said. I nodded. I wanted to shake his hand. He offered to bump fists instead, mindful of what he'd been handling all day. I asked him what to get. 'The haddock is good,' he said, 'Also, the salmon.' I asked for several pieces of each. We chatted a bit more, then I was ready to head for home. 'Mahmoud, what do I owe you?' Advertisement He smiled and shook his head. 'No, no, no, you can't pay me. Please.' I insisted, but so did he. Touched by his unexpected generosity, I smiled, mustered one of the few Arabic words I know, 'shukran,' and waved goodbye. It had gotten dark and was bitter cold. The 'coup' was still a threat. But as I trudged home, my bags felt lighter, as did my spirits. Mahmoud's kindness had reminded me how we might encounter — at any moment — a gesture of true grace when we least expect it, and perhaps most need it. And yes, the fish was delicious. Michael Felsen is a writer in Jamaica Plain. Send comments to magazine@ TELL YOUR STORY. Email your 650-word unpublished essay on a relationship to connections@ Please note: We do not respond to submissions we won't pursue.
Boston Globe
6 days ago
- Politics
- Boston Globe
Can't empathize with the other political party? Just fake it.
We're often told that empathy is the solution to our bitter partisan divide. But after studying empathy for the past four years, I have different advice: Stop trying to empathize. Just fake it. Polarization has skyrocketed over the past 40 years. The only thing we can seemingly agree on is our hatred of this trend. In the same Pew poll, 86 percent of Americans reported feeling that our politics have become more about fighting the other party than solving problems. Yet, we still lack a clear way forward. Advertisement The issue is that we focus on the people in the other camp and critique who they are, not just their policies. When researchers analyzed a national Advertisement So far, the proposed answer has been more empathy. Think of the onslaught of columns during the holiday season about surviving But empathy isn't a faucet we can easily turn on or off. Studies show that we are predisposed to empathize with our own party members and withhold empathy for those on the opposing side. It's not impossible to put ourselves in the other person's shoes, but the Here's where faking it comes in. When we perceive someone as being empathetic, we tend to trust them more and reciprocate with kindness, studies show. In other words, we don't actually have to be empathetic — we just need the person we're talking to think we are. ChatGPT is a perfect example. Despite lacking consciousness, its responses are eerily human — to the point that it can actually make people feel cared for and valued. By masterfully 'hearing' what we say, it leaves us feeling as if we've received empathy. Advertisement Another example: doctors. It would be too mentally taxing to empathize during every visit. Instead, they are trained to use reflective language to make their patients feel they have received empathy. As stilted as it may seem, the approach works; a patient's level of satisfaction drastically improves when they perceive their doctors as empathetic. Faking it isn't just nodding along and interjecting with an occasional 'uh-huh.' We need to be more explicit by mirroring language and validating sentiments. Even if we fervently disagree with someone, identify the larger issue behind their opinion: 'I know that X is infuriating, but...' Or establish some common ground: 'I'm also concerned about Y, yet...' As long as we don't allow our inauthenticity to transform into belittlement or dismissal, we will dial down the animosity. This is a daunting task. But it is up to each of us to figure out how we can turn the temperature down in our communities. If we want to restore the fundamental tenets of respect and dialogue in America, it's time to be fake. Myles Ringel is a recent graduate of Brown University, where he was a pre-med student and concentrated in Empathy in Practice. Send comments to magazine@
Boston Globe
13-06-2025
- General
- Boston Globe
When I was a kid, I had no idea my dad was a CIA spy
Later, his story changed. I overheard him on the telephone saying he worked for the State Department. Nothing had altered in our lives. That's when I knew he was hiding something. Another time, when I was 13, slumped in the backseat of the family car as we drove through the leafy suburbs of Northern Virginia, my mother said out of the blue, 'Tell the girls what you do for a living.' The energy in the car shifted. I couldn't believe Mom was talking about the thing we never talked about — Dad's job. He tiptoed around an answer. His job was to 'research events,' he told us. Mom asked him to say more, but he resisted. 'I manage people,' he finally said. Mom whipped around and asked my sister and me if we had any questions about his work 'managing people.' Advertisement We jumped in. What kinds of things did he research? 'World events.' What kind of world events? 'Events of the day.' When Mom saw we were about to give up, she pressed her lips together firmly and said, 'You work for the CIA, don't you?' Dad said nothing for the rest of the drive. My mind raced through the James Bond movies we watched at home. I tried to put Sean Connery and my horn-rimmed glasses-wearing Dad in the same frame, but Dad was no 007. Still, it felt liberating to be out in the open. I wanted us to share more — the fact that I liked girls — but our family reverted back to silence. Three years later, my brave mother died of breast cancer. The truth-teller was gone. When I was home for the summer my sophomore year in college, I discovered the definitive truth. Dad had picked me up from the airport to take me to his new home. We drove through winding back roads and eventually arrived at a small cinder-block building. A uniformed official came out and motioned for us to get out of the car. I heard bright popping sounds in the background but tried to ignore them. Were those gunshots? Where were we? Clipboard in hand, the man announced, 'This is a CIA base.' His words sped through the layers of my life. I had to agree not to disclose this to anyone. He offered me the clipboard and a pen. Numbly, I signed. Thirty years later, in a call with my sister, those memories came rushing back. After growing up close, sister-allies in a family of loss and secrets, our adult lives had taken different turns. But the day I called, I was sorting through the past: My father's habit of skirting the topic of work, his rejection of my being gay, the unhappiness my mother experienced as the spouse of a clandestine officer. Advertisement Then, when Dad was in his 70s, I started writing a book which sparked conversations that led to our reconciliation. He agreed to meet my wife and they hugged. The facts have fallen into place. Dad had worked at the CIA for nearly 32 years and was twice awarded the Intelligence Medal of Merit. But I'm still unraveling. Still pondering. Recalibrating. is a writer in Oakland and the author of Send comments to magazine@ TELL YOUR STORY. Email your 650-word unpublished essay on a relationship to connections@ Please note: We do not respond to submissions we won't pursue.
Boston Globe
03-06-2025
- General
- Boston Globe
May I have a word: Mirror images
What Noreen Barnes, of Acton, came up with was semi-geographical. She wrote: 'I would suggest derma incognita — that unknown territory. My spouse would call it derma obscura, as in humana obscura , and Ed De Vos, of Newton, corpus obscura . Advertisement Michael Bohnen, of Newton, wrote: 'Those body parts that are 'rearly seen' are epidermissing. ' Get The Gavel A weekly SCOTUS explainer newsletter by columnist Kimberly Atkins Stohr. Enter Email Sign Up Edith Maxwell, of Amesbury, suggested hide and go seeks and invisibits . Diane Tosca, of Taunton, came up with hidey-bits and explained whence she derived it: 'Being a 'Monty Python' fan, I thought of naughty bits for those parts of our anatomy that are difficult to see.' Naughty itself entered our language around 1400, when it described the state of being very poor — that is, having nothing, or naught. By the end of the century, it also meant 'morally bad' (funny how people connect those two qualities); by a century after that, the meaning encompassed 'promiscuous' and such. And by a century after that, it came to include merely 'mischievous' (a 1633 citation reads 'A naughty child is better sick than whole' — that's horrible!). Not until about 1972, the learned lexicographers of the Oxford English Dictionary discovered, did anyone — indeed, Graham Chapman of 'Monty Python' — think to combine the word with bits , to refer to you know what. Advertisement Judith Englander, of South Strafford, Vt., borrowed a colloquial name from the 'Ceratopogonidae family of insects' to suggest that 'those elusive body parts could be called no-see-ums. ' She added she doesn't 'really want to see-um unless absolutely necessary!' John Michaels proposed no-see-ums too . And Kelly Ash, of Melrose, seems to have felt much the way Judith did when she proposed whywouldyawannas and announced: 'Not only would I rather not see my whywouldyawannas , but I sure don't want a photo out there!' Given the subject, I had been bracing myself for an onslaught of off-color options, but everyone showed admirable restraint. The responses got no smuttier than 'my be-hides ,' from John Kjoller, of Sandwich, and unscenities or unseenities , from David Raines, of Lunenburg. I did, though, get a surprise geographical reference. Wilma Kassakian, of Newton, wrote: 'How about Australia,' because of ''the Outback' and the continent's nickname, 'Down Under'?' That's subtle, if no doubt baffling to the uninitiated — which might well be a plus. 'Honey, let's excuse ourselves from our hosts for a few minutes. After our hike, we need to check that there isn't a tick in Australia .' That's just got to win bragging rights. Now Geoff Patton, of Ashland, writes: 'We need a word for when you accidentally put a recyclable item in the trash or vice versa. (I am thinking this should be a noun, like a type of error.) I, at least, do this a lot!' Advertisement Send your ideas for Geoff's word to me at by noon on Friday the 13th, and kindly tell me where you live. Responses may be edited. And please keep in mind that meanings in search of words are always welcome.
Boston Globe
14-05-2025
- Climate
- Boston Globe
After a spectacular 2024, are hydrangeas set for another strong comeback this year?
To understand why there's such a difference from year to year in just how prolific the hydrangea blooms will be, you need to understand a little bit about the habit of these quintessential New England plants. There are three main varieties of hydrangea that most people have in their yards. Macrophylla, which are the large leaf mop heads, mostly blue or pink plants. Then there's the Annabelle and the paniculata. These last two bloom on what is called 'new wood' or this year's growth. This is why for those particular categories of plants, you can prune them hard in late winter and early spring and still get plenty of flowers. The density of your blooms on those types of plants is going to be more related to the spring and summer weather, as well as whether you have adequate soil nutrients to produce flowers. Advertisement But it's different for the mop head variety. Although there have been new varieties developed over the years that bloom on new wood, the best blooms in this group occur on last year's growth. This means that the flower buds form in the late summer and early fall of the previous year and sit out all winter long exposed to the elements. Macrophylla hydrangea, or the mophead variety like nikko blue, are showing early budding this time of year. Dave Epstein In a cold, particularly dry and windy winter, those bloom buds can get desiccated and will not flower. The plant itself is not dead, and you'll often see new growth sprouting from the ground, which will form flower buds for the next year, but you'll miss the existing year. This is what happened in 2023. Because the winter of 2023-24 was so mild, nearly all of the bloom buds survived, and thus we had an Because of the drought last fall and the first part of the winter, there's likely some damage to the flower buds. Additionally, those plants that are marginally hardy probably will not bloom this year because of the average cold we saw in January and February. Advertisement Blue hydrangeas in Lexington last summer. Joanne Rathe Strohmeyer/Globe Staff I have one plant that bloomed last summer that had not bloomed for over a decade, and it looks like it's not going to bloom this year. The bottom line is that I think it's going to be a very good year for hydrangeas, likely not as good as last year, but for some plants, it's going to be pretty close, so get ready to enjoy another round of a local favorite in the garden. A Hydrangea blossom in a Quincy front yard. Matthew J. Lee/Globe Staff You can see the leftover flowers from 2024 just as early buds have popped up in mid-May. You can cut the spent flowers, but be careful not to cut viable buds. Dave Epstein Paniculata hydrangea that were pruned in late winter are now showing new growth, which will flower in late summer. Dave Epstein Have a gardening question for Dave? Send them to weather@ and we will include them in an upcoming column from Dave.
