Reaching Out to Help Someone

Quickly, Duckling

Last summer, while on a Duck Tour, I was seated on the upper level behind a woman who was chatting on her cellphone. As we were waiting at the corner of Boylston and Tremont streets, she went to put her phone away, but it slipped out of her hand and landed on the pavement at the feet of several young men sporting low-slung pants. We began to turn the corner, and one of the men stooped down and picked up the phone. I thought to myself, "That phone is history." He looked up, saw the distressed woman, and then set out in pursuit of our moving duck boat, running after us with one hand holding up his pants and shouting for the driver to stop. The passengers cheered him on, and he finally caught up with us blocks later.
B. Thrall /// Littleton

Discriminating Travelers

On a recent Caribbean cruise, my husband and I sat in a hot tub with a few other couples. The topic of our hometowns came up, and when my husband said we were from Boston, one couple started laughing. They explained that they had just finished a cruise on which sailed an abundance of Boston families. When the Boston kids were in the elevators, they would ask anyone trying to enter whether he or she was a Red Sox or a Yankees fan. Only the correct answer would win a ride on the elevator, relegating the others to climb the 15 decks.
Elizabeth Lowery /// Chestnut Hill

Seasoning and Sense

While attending the Massachusetts College of Pharmacy in the 1950s, my roommates and I decided one day to splurge on three lobsters. Upon returning to our apartment, we realized we didn't have a large enough cooking pot. Remembering that we had passed several young women on the front stoop -- their husbands were interns at the local hospital, and I figured they had better stocked kitchens -- I approached them and explained our plight.
"I've got exactly what you're looking for," one of the women said and started to go for it. She paused and added, "I've got diapers soaking in it. No problem. I'll just put them in the tub."
I tried to refuse the pot, but she insisted. I wondered whether I should tell the guys about the pot's previous use.
Back at the apartment, our dinner was crawling in the bathtub. I figured it wasn't much worse than the pot. But I did confess about the diapers. On a two-to-one vote, we decided not to use the offering. We boiled water in our largest pot, pulled the claws from the lobsters, and cooked them in batches. I thanked my neighbor for her pot but never mentioned that we didn't have the stomach to use it.
Chet Babineau /// Pepperell