Walking. . . .Walking

I haven't forgotten the Gone Baby Gone stuff, but this is what I'm in the mood to relate . . . .
Tonight , I walked from Boston Common to The Museum of Fine Arts to see the Americans in Paris show. Most people would take the T. If you asked me how to get there, I would tell you to take the T. I had an hour to get there. How long would it take ? I wondered. I had comfortable shoes on, tonight was the night. It took 45 minutes to do. Not a bad walk. Pretty flat the whole way.
I liked the exhibition, but I was through it ,in a thorough manner, within an hour. I've been to Paris. Margaret and I have gone to see the Art Nouveau shows and they usually have a lot of different mediums -Sculpture, jewelry , in some instances, furniture. The variety holds my attention better. All flat paintings. The medium registers as flat in my brain. I liked Sargent's Madame X. It's quite impressive up close. I liked the Mary Cassatt Mother and child and family portraits.I liked the idea that the Americans would go to Paris without knowing the language and just working it out somehow. The art classes were crowded and not well ventilated and everybody smoked. There were so many picures of people posing with a cigarette. I'm surprised they didn't sell Galoits in the gift store that you spill out into to exit the show. My favorite picture was by a returned American from Paris of a harbor in Gloucester. There was a picture on a beach at night in Maine. It was painted by Winslow Homer. Also, Whistler's Mother is in the exhibit across from a portrait of his Mistress. Unfortunately, I can't remember all the useful information together like Artist , Title and subject matter.
When I was ready to leave, I decided to see how far I could get walking, heading back to Cambridge. My goal was to get over the Massachusetts Ave. bridge. I picked that route because the #1 Bus goes by there to Harvard Square, if I couldn't make it . My lofty goal was to try to get to the T station in Central Square. I love the view walking on the Mass. Ave. bridge over the Charles River. The sun was setting but it was still light out. It is warm here, but there is a breeze. The sail boats were out in the water from the Charles River Boat house. Truly picturesque and worthy of a portrait by a returned American. I walk over the bridge after attending Red Sox games. It makes the night even more special.
When I was a kid, we walked everywhere. I would walk from my house in Arlington and walk all the way to Fresh Pond, walk around Fresh Pond and then walk back home.That's about 6 miles altogether. Me and the girls up the street used to walk up and down the hill to the Heights all the time. Sometimes a couple of times a day. When I was a kid , I couldn't wait to grow up to walk wherever I wanted to without having to tell anybody. I also couldn't wait to recieve the Sacrament of Holy Communion or vote and well. . you can guess how long those passions lasted into my adulthood. When did I stop walking ? I don't mean I stopped walking . I know how to "Walk" . I mean when did I stop considering walking as a form of transportation ? When did I think I couldn't walk? That the spectre of the effort would daunt me before the thought could even form. I need to walk. It's a better form of exercise for me. I also feel empowered. Like , if I had to , I could walk anywhere. And that I could live through it and it's not that bad. . .