I
love when the weather allows us to return to the streets, squares, bike
trails and our favorite meeting spots. We were cooped up all winter,
and when we did go out, we got wet, froze and caught colds. I was on my
way to the ATM in Teele Square Saturday to get money to pay for the
pizza at Angelina's. Across from Angie's is a bar with one of those
open window-fronts so everyone can see you hanging around in a barroom.
The bus or a car goes by and you hear. "Hey Mommy…there's Daddy! Hi
Daddy!"

Anyway, there is a huge German shepherd and I say to my
son Jimmy, "what a beautiful dog." Next thing I hear is: "I recognize
that voice – is that Jimmy?" It was my old pal and excellent former
drummer, Billy. He had a headband on and a sleeveless vest, sunglasses
and a few new tattoos, so I couldn't tell it was him right off the bat.
It was great seeing him. We chatted a bit and exchanged cell phone
numbers.

The weather is getting nicer and people are coming out
of their winter burrows. I was happy to see a few of my older friends
emerge from their hibernations. I breathed a sigh of relief when they
finally started walking places again and I actually saw them in the
flesh. I have to do a quick inventory because we are all getting up
there and I have to check to see who may not have made it through the
cruel winter. Thankfully, most of them are coming back out, one by one.

I
thought I had gone back in time last week when I was up the park with
my dog. Was it a mirage or was one of my childhood friends sitting on a
park bench with a brown paper bag with a six-pack of Budweisers?
"Jimmy!!!" Yes, it was my old pal. He was actually waiting for another
of my old friends to join him. He said: "So and so should be walking up
over the hill from Mallet Street any minute." Sure enough, there he
was! Some things never change I guess – and old habits are hard to
break. These two guys have been carrying on their ritual for the last
40 years. It was like deja-brew! We talked about other old friends like
Bolo and Boogna among other things.

I saw another old friend
last Tuesday and somehow the topic of the Bal-A-Rue roller skating rink
on Mystic Avenue came up. I know it's in Meffa and this is a Somerville
article, but so what.

When the weather got nice in the old days
we use be dropped off at the Bal-A-Rue and cap the day with some
burgers from Kemps. Don't ask me how we crossed Mystic Avenue and
lived. And remember – no skating backwards! Eventually going to Kemps
would be replaced by going to the Golden Egg after the bars closed. The
Golden Egg was Medford's answer to Kay and Chips. The Century Bank is
now on the site of the old Bal-A-Rue.

I remember one spring
evening when my band members and me were on our way back from a gig on
Revere Beach. We approached an MDC Police checkpoint near Kappy's
Liquors in our band van. The MDC cop shined a flashlight in the drivers
face and asked where we were going. The driver replied that we were
coming home from work. The cop said, oh, what do you do? The driver
said: "We're magicians." Of course he was trying to say "musicians,"
but the late hour and fatigue from a long evening of performing in a
smoky lounge (Sammy's Patio) made it come out differently. When the cop
heard him say magicians, instead of asking him to pull a rabbit out of
his hat, he asked him to pull his license and registration out of his
wallet. Happily, we all went safely on our way.

Nice weather has
a way of bringing back memories too. The smell of lilacs still reminds
me of when we lived downstairs in Lenny Scott's house on Pearson Avenue
from 1955 to 1960. I still ride by there every so often. Next time I
ride by I hope to drop in and visit Louise. I have so many great photos
and memories of her family and mine from an innocent time – long, long
ago. We spent a few very happy springs there, as well as other seasons.

Spring
is graduations too. Because I was a rabble-rouser in high school, one
of the administrators or building masters or another one of my nemeses
decided to place my diploma at the very end of the pile. So with my
entire family in the stands at Dilboy, they called the A's, the B's,
the C's and the D's – and started the E's. I swear I heard my poor
mother gasp and say: "I knew he wasn't going to graduate, Fred!"
Finally after they called John Zagami or someone else at the end, they
called James Del Ponte. I stomped up to the podium and ripped my
diploma out of the presenters hand, and gave him the dirtiest look I
could come up with. They got the last laugh (until I returned as a
substitute teacher). That's my graduation memory.

So come out,
wont you? Come out and walk your dog, ride bikes with your kids on the
bike trail or go smell some lilacs. Enjoy every second of this
transformation from shivering to shimmering

And just a quick
note to you absentee landlords. It's time to clean up your nest eggs.
Some of your yards are so overgrown with freakish looking weeds, that
it looks like something from Jurassic Park. If you need someone to
clean it up, e-mail me, I could use some extra cash. You can email
Jimmy directly at jimmydel@rcn.com.