Readers respond to their favorite Yankee magazine articles.
By Yankee Magazine
Jun 28 2022
Home, Sweet Home
Thank you for lots of New England in the May/June Yankee. There was much to linger over, from the back-of-the-book “Life in the Kingdom” (where I always start my perusal of the magazine)—reminding me of my high school years, living in a breezy old central Vermont farmhouse on our own dirt road, with woodstoves as our only source of heating and cooking—to Cathie Pelletier’s moving meditation on “The Zen of Fiddleheads,” which brought me viscerally back to Maine, where I’ve had generational connections and homes from southern Eliot to northern T15 R15. I live far from there now, but it was wonderful to visit home. (I definitely do not miss the blackflies, though.)
Thank you for the great story and follow-up on the Boston Marathon runner Kathrine Switzer [“Conversations,” March/April]. The flashback the article brought to mind was a conversation I had with our high school’s athletics director in 1975. I was accompanied by one of my teammates on our girls’ basketball team. Our questions posed to him were “Why can’t we have new uniforms?” (we had been using hand-me-downs from other sports) and “Why are the girls only allowed to use the old (100-plus years) gym?” given that the boys’ team used the new gym at the junior high. His response: “It’s too expensive, and besides, NO ONE WILL EVER PAY TO WATCH A GIRLS’ GAME.” (My emphasis.)
It was all the sweeter when Title IX passed and, years later, my own daughters competed on sports teams from early on through high school. I was always happy to pay to see their games! The benefits of physical fitness and the lessons learned from team and individual sports are too valuable not to be shared with all.
Bristol, Rhode Island
Jon Marcus hit it out of the park with his outstanding article on local newspapers [“Hard-Pressed,” March/April]. Most of my adult days have begun over a cup of coffee and reading the morning paper. Born in Boston and a resident New Englander half my life, I know a good newspaper when I read it. As I moved around the country, I subscribed to dailies in California, Arizona, Colorado, and now upstate South Carolina. I recently canceled my daily, a property of Gannett, stuffed with USA Today national content and very biased, irrelevant news. I regret doing it, but the product has simply become subpar. I encourage those whom Jon mentioned trying to resurrect an important—and sorely missed—part of our daily/weekly lives. We need you back!
Taylors, South Carolina
As a 37-year veteran of newsrooms, I read with great interest “Hard-Pressed,” about the struggles of newspapers to survive. The story would have never gotten past me, however, because it lacked journalistic fairness. Why no quotes from any big, nasty, blood-thirsty corporations whose goal is supposedly to deprive communities of their newspapers? Why didn’t the writer contact them? By the way, big corporations have always produced lousy newspapers but so have mom-and-pop outfits.
Having grown up in a city of European immigrants during the ’60s, I have been missing real deli food since they no longer exist locally. I actually had the chance to choose from three delis back then. I have been studying the Jewish deli for a lot of years, also reading Save the Deli, and was thrilled to read your article “Long Live the Deli” in the March/April issue. I, too, have been trying to perfect my own corned beef, pastrami, and half sours.
One error I would like to point out: Mamaleh’s Delicatessen does indeed have a location in a Boston food hall, but not the one near North Station. It’s in High Street Place, close to South Station, as I found out the hard way: It is a long walk from North Station to South Station!
After reading the first paragraph of “A Walk in Spring,” Jennifer De Leon’s essay in the March/April issue, I immediately was taken back to my parents’ days, as both of them were raised in Boston. I, too, have very fond memories of spring walks in Boston, Jamaica Plain included. Continuing on to the second paragraph, I was struck by the fact that the author’s mom is probably around my age—and an immigrant from Guatemala. How awesome is this. I am so happy that she was able to come to America, make her way, and have the same memories as me.
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Watermelons smile away
In hopes of being bought today …
Such charmers, always on the lookout
For the chance to join a cookout.