- I have fallen asleep to the dog-paddle slap of waves, instead of the wailing of freight trains.
- With my wife, I have been bullied into dancing at a wedding—when all I really wanted to do all along was dance, but forbore out of decorum—and we acquitted ourselves ably.
- I have wrestled with puke-sodden bedding (though not my own).
- I have walked among Red Sox fans in their native land, feeling like a defector slipped across some DMZ into the First World, where freedom is ingrained in the fabric of daily life and not spoken in whispers.
- I have played cards with and been fearsomely bluffed by a five-year-old.
- I have stood at the corner of Telegraph Road, looking down its length, and have indeed seen many signs saying “Sorry, But We’re Closed” (or words to that effect).
- I have burned an American flag (though not in protest).
- With the ocean swirling around my calves and the sand under my feet falling away in the tide, I have fancied I could feel the turning of the earth.
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