All Kinds of Places of Worship

When I last wrote, I was spending time with the Christian Scientists. (What kind of opening sentence in a book would that make?!?) In keeping with the church theme, I explored two churches before heading to my preferred place of worship, any beautiful and storied major league baseball park.

The first church I visited was a small one just across from the Copley T stop (I forget the name). There I remembered how I really need to travel with a tripod, as I took photos like this:

I especially liked this detail found over the doors to the sanctuary:

I then headed over to the better-known Trinity church, which has this lovely tortoise and hare out front, as it is a key part of the Boston Marathon Route (perhaps the ending place?):

One of the cool aspects of this church, situated right across from the Boston Public Library, is that you can photograph the old and the new together (thanks to Philip Greenspun's Boston Photography Guide for that tip!):

Inside, I found these family-named footstools quirky and charming:

And continued my love affair with photographing the high-up pulpit:

And the suspended cross:

Having had my fill of churches, and for some reason not being in the right mood to explore the Boston Public Library, as I had planned, I hopped on the T like a Boston native and headed over to Fenway Park for that evening’s Red Sox/Reds game.

I began with my traditional stroll just behind home plate:

And had the pleasant surprise of being able to obtain the autograph of an old Sox player—which will make a nice gift for the friend with whom I lost my Cubs/Sox/World Series bet:

This man was very nice and friendly and didn’t even care that I am a Cub fan:

While waiting for this autograph, I perused the historical photos displayed in Autograph Alley (a nice Fenway Feature all by itself!):

A true throng was awaiting the start of the game while stuffing themselves with sausages and such:

In honor of the Army’s anniversary and/or Flag Day, the Red Sox were busy helping the Army sign up more kids to die in Iraq so that Bush can look good (or not like a failure) in the history books—I apparently missed the part of the presentation in which we mention how many people have been harmed by this war for which Bush changes the stated rationale on a near-daily basis:

Actually, I was annoyed by this presentation for the above-stated reasons, but that feeling subsided later. Seated near me was a guy in Army fatigues, apparently freshly back from duty. During the game, a balloon popped nearby. Most of us seemed not to even blink when that happened, but this guy jumped and was clearly shaken by the sound. My heart softened as I realized that he had probably had no choice but to go there, but will bear the consequences long after the person who sent him there is out of office. *Okay, this unpaid political rant will now end.

Even if it lacks the grace of Wrigley Field with its ivy, Fenway really is a nice park, with an intimate feeling and no shortage of history:

I made a new friend during the game, a kid who asked me for a pen with which to keep his scorecard:

I joked that he must remember to return the pen, because it was the only one I had with me on vacation, and thought he had forgotten to do so when he and his Dad and brothers left just before the end of the game. Much to my amusement, the pen was handed back to me through a wall of people standing in the row in front of me (I couldn’t even see the kid), with the kid apparently just assuming that I was watching and would see the pen poking through. For some reason, that kid just made me laugh.

The Red Sox won, and all was well in the world. My T ride home wasn’t even too crowded!