This weekend my gal and I went to Concord, Massachusetts to visit family and friends and dress up all nice to drink cocktails on Saturday night. While we were in Concord we walked across the Old North Bridge, the central battleground for the first day of battle in the American Revolution. There may have been tea thrown in Boston, but there was blood spilled in Concord. Boy howdy.

One of the reasons was that there were huge munitions stations in Concord so the British were trying to get at the heart of the matter of these militias. I’m told this, but I wasn’t actually there.

We crossed the bridge and walked around the hill for about an hour. It was a beautiful day and as Bono says, we didn’t let it get away. It’s so picturesque there; I can understand what the colonists loved about it. They must have thought this bridge would be there forever. And it has in a way, but in another way it’s been built and rebuilt five times.

Saturday, as a surprise event, Dan, Julie and many other Concordians and/or former Concordians went canoeing six miles down the Concord River. Some people were in tubes for they are not righteous enough for a canoe. It was a great weekend to spend in Concord and traveling under the Old North Bridge made me think of those ninety-five red coats coming to fight a group of farmers. They were probably laughing, chilling out, relaxing all cool and then a bunch of colonials started to appear. At one time they were their fellow countrymen, but God dammit they’d been taxed too much! Take that and that! And that and that and that!

The coated men of red were in a deeper red now. Deep in blood. Deep in debt of loss of men. Deep in red sunlight as the sun set over the meadow. I assume the battle ended at sunset.

It is a beautiful bridge and if you’re ever in Concord for more than two hours I recommend going. Although I don’t recommend being in Concord for too much longer than thirty minutes. Daniel Davis Tovrov and I had to; we grew up there.