Pat Perry, co-chair of the Six Painted Chairs fundraiser, which benefits restoration, sent a nice email to let me know the two chairs that graced window were recently exchanged for two others.
Glorious Morning and Good bye Picasso are now in the barber shop window ready for viewing.
These beauties are playing an artistic game of musical chairs by sitting at various spots around town. The two new pieces are in window and another is at .
Perry and her Co-Chair Christina Gamota are leading the event, one that culminates in a November gala where the chairs will be raffled.
Visit the Lexington Historical Society’s webpage to see descriptions of the six chairs. Then buy a $10 ticket and cross your fingers.
Tickets are available at the society's headquarters at the , at and Raveis Real Estate.
Posted at 5:45 a.m. this morning ...
Like most, I enjoyed a typical Lexington weekend, despite the country’s downgrade by New York-based Standard & Poor.
Friday night I went to the on Massachusetts Avenue to hear Three of a Kind play tunes that were popular in the 1960s and 70s—and just as much fun today.
Carefree teens, born before these musical lyrics were even a thought, danced and swirled with abandon, just a few feet from the band. One was ironically barefooted and a wearing Woodstock era skirt and a colorful top. She and the music brought me back to another time.
Executive Director Mary Jo Bohart was there and told me about the eight summer concerts held on the lawn every Friday. She also offered her cell number so I could get more information and told me how many concerts were left. I think she said three – but that’s a guess.
As I wove through the crowd I met NHL legend Doug “Diesel” Mohns. He played on the Boston Bruins for 11 seasons back in the 50s and 60s. He and his wife were wonderful and gave me their phone number to get an interview sometime in the future.
Director Bill Hadley’s sidekick Pauline Burke told me that after years at the DPW she had just finished her last day. They held a celebratory coffee for her before she left for her retirement. Want to know how many years she worked there? Yeah, me too.
I took pictures of the stand table, enjoyed the sizzling smell of roasting meat from a nearby food tent. You probably want a name – yup, me too.
A colorful radio station truck was there giving out ice cream. What station? Don’t ask me.
Leaving I met two women lounging in chairs listening to a familiar tune. After taking their names, I asked the name of the dog and scribbled that on the side of the pages.
That information is all moot, because the notebook was lost somewhere after I met the young girl and her mother, both names in the notebook. I also met their dog Buddy and only remember that because I wrote it along the edge of the page.
No, I don’t remember Mary Jo’s cell phone number and can’t recall Diesel’s either. My pictures will tell you some of the details, but not all.
The women and Buddy were sitting near Massachusetts Avenue, a few hundred feet near Capt. John Parker’s statue, the and the crosswalk. I had my small mauve covered notebook then, I know this, because I scribbled something else on a page – unintelligible to you, but meaningful to me.
I saw my husband and puppy sitting across the green, waved and yelled for the pup. From there who knows where the information landed. If you found my notebook, well you can email me or try and decipher my notes, whichever is more entertaining.
The double whammy is that I realized it – and panicked – once I hit center field to see the start of the Lexington Blue Sox and shoulda woulda coulda gone back immediately. Instead I took pictures of pitcher Kevin Scanlan and watched as they warmed up and then started the game. (Full disclosure, Scanlan is a relative and one of the best pitchers ever.)
When I drove back and retraced my steps it was nowhere. Gone.
And yes, I checked the car – three times.
The notebook is disposable and irrelevant, but not to me. I spent Friday night obsessing, trying to recreate what bits and pieces were in there, specifically the two telephone numbers and Pauline’s information.
Saturday morning, after my husband retraced our steps, checked trash barrels (trash barrels!) and came home empty-handed it was time to let it go and learn from this, especially since this is the third notebook loss time in the last 20 years.
My first came after a Lexington meeting, the second in Mexico’s San Miguel de Allende. After that I put my name, telephone number and a reward somewhere inside the notebook.
Yes, in my haste to get to the center, I forgot. I won't forget again.
The good news: the band was fantastic, the weather was warm and balmy, even the Minuteman Bike Path cyclists stopped to listen. Best yet, the Vistors’ Center lawn was as full as possible.
And, if my memory serves me, there are three more. Is that right Mary Jo?