In 1981 I was working after-hour clubs for Arthur Weinstein. I needed a break from the hustle and fled north to the South Shore of Boston. No one called me. I slept and read. My mother greeted me at the breakfast table and apologized for the boredom of the suburbs and I recalled a line from Tallyrand, “One has to have loved a genius to appreciate the love of a fool.”
I told my mother I couldn’t be happier.
“Boredom is a blessing for those cursed by constant entertainment.”
That afternoon we drove down to Nantasket Beach and watched slow waves crawl across the gray sand.
And that was not boring.
And it will be beautiful forever.
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