Welcome to Medford

Babies love me. I don't know why and I've long since stopped questioning, but I find it rather amusing that things I don't know what to do with - babies, puppies, kittens - all seem to gravitate towards me. There I was, playing with the small little creature in the seat opposite me. She, or he, was thrilled at my attention and I must admit, it was rather amusing for about five minutes. Baby after baby came down the one aisle of the plane, stopped at my seat, looked up at me and decided I was someone they wanted to know. I found this rather disconcerting, but I played along.

As coast-to-coast flights go, this one was pretty smooth. One or two air bumps, but overall, it was one of my better times in the air. I looked around at all the children on their ipods and ipads and wondered when I got so old. Landing at Logan Airport felt strangely relaxing - the prodigal son come home.

Getting to Alamo rentals was easy enough and I got a free upgrade - which, I might add was a good thing as the last compact car had New Jersey plates and the last thing I wanted was to drive a car from New Jersey. I'm in Boston, I want Massachusetts plates, please. Now, keep in mind that I drive a 1997 Honda Civic, so stepping into the 2011 Ford Focus, I was clueless on all the new gadgets that come with cars. It took me a while to get comfortable, but soon I was on the road, driving past the sign beckoning me to visit the 50-foot tall Madonna (no, not THAT Madonna) on the hillside. I remember visiting that crazy piece of religious stone when I was a kid - let's just say, it's an experience. The memory made me laugh as it got me in just the right mood for the many statues and other religious artifacts that my mom and I will visit in Italy.

Really? Who can eat two of these in one sitting?

No matter how long I have been away, the road to Medford remains easy and familiar. There was my father, the little big man, Alfred, waiting in the driveway to help me with my bags. Inside, at the top of the stairs - my mom, all giddy with excitement to have the prince of the family home again at last. And that's when I smelled the aroma of the world's best stuffed artichokes. Huge and overflowing with breadcrumbs, there were far too many for me and my high school friend Dana to eat. (Alas, my friend Anthony is under the weather - but there's plenty of leftovers should he get hungry.) The last time Dana was in my parents' house was in 1983, the day after our senior prom. Despite Rosemarie's pleas for us to eat two artichokes a piece, each of us had one and shared another.

We look exactly the same as we did in 1983.

"Just imagine," I said to Dana. "In high school, she made us eat two a piece AND made us chicken cutlets and mashed potatoes to go along with it."

It was a great way to usher in my first night back in the old house. Dana drove off in her little pink scooter - quite an amusing sight - and now my mom and I will settle in and watch some NBC fall pilots. Yes, working at the network does carry some privileges.

Click the picture for more eating shots