Brake Dancing on the Zakim Bridge

     My daily commute from Stoneham to downtown Boston is perfectly timed with the peak of morning rush hour. My home is in a great location, one traffic light away from Route 93. Unfortunately, that traffic light is in south Stoneham at the intersection between Friendly’s and Spot Pond Mobil. If you travel Route 28 in the morning you already know that short stretch of highway is a bumper-to-bumper nightmare. It’s a job just getting to work in the morning. By the time I reach my office I feel like I’ve already put in a full day’s work.    
     I’ve discovered many shortcuts to avoid Route 93 on my commute into Boston. After making my way through the intersection at Friendly’s, I can see if the highway is moving (it usually isn’t). I have the option of driving past Sheepfold toward Roosevelt Circle. Traffic at that rotary is always heavy getting up to the circle, but once you are there you have a slew of options:     
     You can enter Route-93. Even if traffic is slow, it feels like you’ve passed all cars who were sitting in traffic back at the Stoneham entrance. If the volume of traffic on the road is extremely heavy, you can get on the highway and immediately exit at Route 60 in Medford, then circle around the rotary and head up the ramp to Route 93. This method works as a last resort but you do save a few minutes if your desperate. There’s a lot of maneuvering for little gain because you end up back in traffic when you re-enter the highway but you still come out ahead of that Peter Pan bus you used as a place marker. If that sounds like a hassle, you can veer off Roosevelt Circle towards the Fellsway toward Wellington Circle (if you don't mind a million traffic lights). Once you make it past the Assembly Square Mall, take the ramp to the highway just before the Sullivan Square exit. Here's a Massachusetts driving tip: don’t wait in the line of traffic on the ramp. Simply drive past everyone to the top of the entrance and cut in at the last minute. The trick is to not make eye contact and wave thank you a lot. This was my shortcut of choice for a long time, but I knew there had to be a better way. I discovered Fulton Street, off Roosevelt Circle, which leads to Medford Square. The lights are annoying, but once you're on Route 38, traffic moves all the way to the I-93 on ramp just before Sullivan Square. It’s not ideal but it’s a great route for people who want to keep moving, and you pass a couple of donut shops.     
     Recently, I was given information regarding a secret short cut that involves Woodland Road and Flynn Rink. I can’t divulge the route because I had to sign a confidentiality contract. A secret shortcut is no good if everyone starts taking it. This hidden route is not for everyone. It’s fraught with danger, hidden drives and hairpin turns. But if it ends up saving me ten minutes in the morning, I’m there.Unfortunately, all of these shortcuts lead to the Zakim Bridge. This relatively short, beautiful span bridge is not unlike the bumper car ride at Canobie Lake Park. Every driver is changing lanes simultaneously so you have to be on your toes. It looks beautiful at night though.If you survive that treacherous stretch of trellis, you approach the O’Neill Tunnel of Horror. Before you enter, you are blinded by the glare of the morning sun and then immediately plunged into total darkness in the tunnel. You are forced to drive blind for the first few moments as speeding tractor trailers and weaving taxi cabs compete for each other's lanes. Hang on to your steering wheel and be prepared for anything at any moment, from any direction (including the ceiling). I can't forget hearing report regarding the metal safety rails along the tunnel wall. They were partially removed because of a “decapitation hazard” if a car accidentally drives into them. That news makes me keep my speed down much to the dismay of the oblivious drivers whizzing past me on all sides.     
     I’ve tried taking the scenic route from North Station to Atlantic Avenue. I’ve taken the McGrath Highway to Storrow Drive. (Spellcheck wants to change “Storrow to “Sorrow” which might be more appropriate.)
     Some people criticize my zigzagging shortcuts for taking longer than just sitting in traffic on the expressway. They can criticize all they want. I’ve got 185 channels on my Sirius Satellite Radio to listen to in my car so I really don’t care how long my commute takes. And if I’m late, I'll use the same excuse as everyone else in my office – “You wouldn’t believe the traffic.” Only in my case, it’s true.

Joyful Noise

My love for Top 40 music goes all the way back to the mid sixties when a new console stereo was brought into our house. It was a big piece of furniture – a polished walnut wooden cabinet with a hinged door on top. When you lifted the lid and looked inside, there was a turntable on the left, and a row of radio dials on the right. To me, it was a gateway to a whole new world waiting to be discovered.

The first album my parents bought was by Roger Miller, a crossover country artist who had a radio hit with the smash single “King of the Road.” Since the album was the only one we owned at the time, I got to know the songs very well. By placing the diamond needle stylus on the vinyl disc you could feel the rich warm tones of the tunes, along with all the snaps and pops that could be heard crackling from the speakers from repeated playing.

Every morning I would wake up extra early, creep into the parlor before the sun came up, and begin my 5:00 a.m. ritual of tuning in songs on the AM.radio. I would set the volume low and curl up on our royal blue polyester danish modern sofa, tuck an orange pillow beneath my head and listen to The Supremes, Barbara Streisand and Tom Jones sing about life and love until it was time for me to eat breakfast and get ready for school.

The nineteen sixties were a golden age for pop music, and Casey Kasem’s weekly American Top 40 countdown became a staple of my Sunday morning radio listening habit (as soon as I got home from church). I wanted to learn to play an instrument to make my own music but my training only went as far as the fourth string of my guitar. By the time I quit taking lessons I was semi-proficient at Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. I could read the musical notes on paper. I knew my F-A-C-E from my E-G-B-D-F. However, I recently discovered there is more to understanding music than just knowing where the notes are.

 Music may be the universal language, but currently in my home there is a cultural divide between my jazz-loving son and his pop music father. “That’s not real music,” my son recently told me regarding my musical preference. “Jazz snob!” was my snarky retort. I'll take my father/son bonding any way I can get it.

My son is attending college majoring in jazz composition. On a recent ride home from the dorms, I thought I'd pick his brain for some technical musical knowledge. I asked him what “intonation” meant. I heard the word used on several occasions by Harry Connick Jr. as he critiqued would-be pop stars on this season's American Idol. I got my answer in the form of a vocal lesson from my son. He sang the scales in various keys to show me the difference. It takes training to hit the right notes and sing in perfect pitch. This explains why my attempt at becoming a vocalist in Vinnie and Larry’s teen-age garage band in the mid seventies didn’t quite work out . My vocal style falls somewhere between The Clash and Patti Smith.

Music comes from the soul, no matter if your a jazz purist or a Top 40 rapper. There is no right or wrong in my book. It's all about personal preference.

My son and I have agreed to put our musical differences aside. He’s listening to John Coltrane while I'm enjoying “Happy” by Pharrell Williams from the Despicable Me 2 soundtrack. In the world of music, it’s all good.

 Although I realize a career in pop music is a long-shot for me, I still dabble in the Garage Band program on my computer. I've produced a few original songs of my own, enough to burn a CD or post on the web to amuse my friends.

Thanks to my son, my musical horizons have been expanded. I've discovered jazz is an acquired taste but it's not my cup of tea. To understand what the perfect pop song should sound like, I suggest listening to anything by the seventies group ABBA. I hear the band has a reunion tour in the planning stages. I hope it happens soon, before I’m the old guy clapping along from the handicap section.