I am from Boston (Brookline), Massachusetts

The problem with living in a state as small as Massachusetts is that I have to deal with the age-old question of whether living in the “Boston-area” constitutes living 30 minutes down I-90 or actually being within a mile radius of downtown Boston. Luckily, for me it’s the latter, but the running joke following many people that claim to live in Boston is that most actually live in far-away suburbs that are decently removed from the urban center of the state. In order for these people to access downtown Boston, they have to sit in 30 minutes of constant rush-hour-like traffic and scour the narrow winding streets for parking. In fact, on multiple occasions, I’ve witnessed people say straight-faced that they were from the Boston-area, when, in fact, they were from New Hampshire. But, as much as we like to make fun of those people, it's reasonable to try to compensate for people who, understandably, can’t recognize town names like Saugus, Needham, and Framingham. I certainly do the same in my own way, because in reality, very few people hear the name Brookline and instantly conjure up a clear image of my hometown.

Boston skyline from the Harvard Bridge (my own photo).

But my slight fib becomes more believable when taking in consideration just how close in constant proximity I was to the most urban areas of Boston throughout my childhood. I could walk just a few houses down the street from mine to find a street sign's metallic letters exclaiming “Entering Allston,” welcoming pedestrians to one of Boston’s 23 recognized neighborhoods. I grew up being able to walk down to a train station in ten minutes, and within another ten, barring an at times inevitable breakdown or delay of the Green Line, find myself in the heart of Boston. The air is damp with salty gusts of wind from the harbor and smoky, with some denser parts of the downtown area always smelling vaguely of cigarettes and car exhaust. The Boston Common, the oldest city park in the United States (as most things in Massachusetts are), is neighbored by the State House, which is neighbored by Beacon Hill, which housed some of America’s most prolific classic authors. Beyond Louisa May Alcott’s and Robert Frost’s homes, another ten minutes takes you to City Hall and, beyond there, Faneuil Hall Marketplace, all historic urban keystones of my city. Having quick and easy access to all of this history and connectivity is what made my childhood my own. I never took it for granted, per say, but my careful balance between not so suburban suburbs and urban hubs felt incredibly natural. 

Coolidge Corner, Brookline, MA. (my own photo)

Because after all, ten minutes walking in a different direction from my home put me in the heart of North Brookline, a town commercial and residential center where the most foundational part of my childhood was. In that center were the schools, playgrounds, parks, grocery stores, cafes, movie theaters, and libraries that formed every single consequential memory I have living between Brookline and Boston. I was incredibly privileged to have such extensive walkability and access not only the city surrounding my town but also within Brookline. Brookline, as a municipality, is somewhat self-contained and really does function as its own thriving and successful town, regardless of its intensely close proximity to Massachusetts’ capitol city. It serves as not only a town, but a perfect transition between the suburbia sprawled out west along the I-90 and the city. Everything I had access to in Brookline was enriched by the city just minutes away, allowing me to witness every facet of Boston and the greater-Boston area. It doesn’t really ever feel like a lie to say that I am from Boston when actually being from Brookline because my childhood was perfectly balanced between the two, allowing me to understand the virtue of accessibility in the built urban environment.