Dear Bud,
It has been the typical Florida July but the heat really got to me and I had to call out on Tuesday and book out early on Thursday. Was hoping to speak with you this week but it did not just come about. I was looking at your Facebook page and it reminded me of a few small stories of when you had family come for a visit and you brought them to Boston for one of the infamous Doyle tours on my lunch hour when I worked for the Sectary of The Commonwealth in the Corporations Division.
Your Brother Art was in town and due to our conflicting schedules’ I was unable to visit with him at your house and in your own special was wanted him to meet your gumba, ya I had to look up the word to get the correct spelling. We made arrangements and the two of you made the train trip in. I always thought that it was my expert tour narration talents which inspired you to bring your family in never realizing that they probably knew more about Boston than I and it was your friendship with me which you wanted to share.
When Art visited we were able to view “The Charles” from the conference room at One Ashburton Place, for as luck would have it there was no meeting going on. We roamed Beacon Hill for an hour and when my time expired it was back to my desk and you guys back to Beverly. I remember asking you why Art had all of the height and I think that I teased you about being aged and that you had shrunk over the years. If you remember I stopped that teasing after I got into my 60s. There was one outstanding trait other than a welcoming personality and it was that capricious look which you both shared, the Burke Glow which I have called it for many years.
The other visitor was a sister, Carole, whom you had told me about who lived in California who had been a school teacher her entire life and was doing so in Monterey. You had mentioned that she was the totally independent one of the family and a free spirit as I interpreted from your stories. She reminded me somewhat of my daughter whose intelligence level exceeded most and definitely not inherited from me but her mother. Knowing before actually meeting her brings me onto a tangent and am hoping that I do not go too far with this one that I forget where I was originally heading.
I put this one under the Doyle’s Small World Category. I was visiting my cousin Tom out in Moraga, a town east of San Francisco and a unique community which I loved to visit, he was off for that morning with a friend who became his wife. He had given me the keys to one of his seven cars, ya remember he was the rich cousin, and rather than driving to Orinda for a scone and strong coffee I decided to visit another bakery not too far away in a strip shopping center. The unique thing about this place is how each weekend people would line up cars they had for sale along the front of the parking lot which boarded the road heading to Lafayette. Tom had introduced me to this place with a few outside tables where one could read the daily and enjoy the beautiful early morning weather. When I arrived, there was a lady reading the paper and after I got my super scone and coffee I headed to one of the tables and she was still there. In my relentless pursuit for conversation she finally relented and spoke with more than the yes, no she was sharing. She seemed very bitter and I discovered that she had had it with men who used and I totally agreed with her and did not blame her for her feelings after a story she had shared. Putting that aside I discovered that she had been a teacher abroad, Iran to be exact, and was told that the regime had used her photo in propaganda material there considering her as an infidel from the states. This prior to the government taking many into custody during the Carter administration as you well remember for your sister was a teacher there before all hell broke loose. I mentioned your sister’s name and she knew her, sometimes a good memory comes in handy when meeting people. Later that day when Tom and Jeannie were back they asked me what I had done and I told them the story and mentioned that the lady’s last name was Rideout. Jeannie looked at me, with surprise, and told me that I had had coffee with her lawyer who represented her with a divorce. Damn two for one that day.
Well anyway back to her visit which we started at the usual place, the empty conference room. You had told me that she could be somewhat aloof but I figured that my charming personality could conquer all, joke. I did my utmost best to get a reaction to a few little-known facts which I had learned about some of the residences but only got an occasional “really” and at that point I will not forget the look on your face when I asked her if I should stop for she appeared to be bored and I did not want to ruin her day. Ya a risky comment but truthful and feel that she appreciated it an allowed me to continue with an improved level of interest from her.
Till the next time brother keep those banjo strings moving along with your friend Dave Murphy and his washtub base.
Love you my Buddy.
Dan Owen Doyle 