Burning through shoe
leather is more than a metaphor for diligent reporting. I came to Cambridge
wearing a brand new pair of sneakers. Before I fly home Friday, I will lay them
to rest. I won’t mourn them though. My sneakers served their purpose.
Over the last few weeks,
I’ve met some interesting characters around Cambridge—a music store owner
without a filter, a history concentrator with an eidetic memory and a pizzeria
clerk who makes the best subs. If I were to search for these folks on Google
Maps, I would find them on different sides of town.
Their relative proximity made
taking the “T” impractical. Hubway bikes didn’t look comfortable. Moreover, the
Harvard shuttles have proven as elusive as an Indiana ice cream truck in June.
Walking offered the only
option for me to meet them, and I’m glad I did.
Each person helped make
this summer memorable. One of these characters proved to be a
highly-entertaining source for this class. Our conversations often involved the
word “crap.” Another Cantabrigian regaled me with theories about the homogenization
of modern Ukrainian culture. I also found out what “quotidian” means. The third still makes sure I eat a palatable dinner. I no longer need to microwave like
champion while he’s around.
In the end, wearing
out my sneakers was a good thing. I would be a lesser person if they were still
brand new.
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