Mother Knows Best

In the eighth grade I won two tickets to a Red Sox double header. My mother drove me and my friend, Harry Bennett, to Hyannis to catch the train to Boston. She had written out directions on how to get from South Station to Fenway Park on the street car system. We were ready for our big adventure. As we were getting on the train she slipped a twenty dollar bill into my hand “for something to eat” in Boston. “But don’t get the Salisbury Steak,” she said. It’s just a hamburger with gravy.”