In major cities in the northeast  and all over the world, there is an incredible amount of quarantine fatigue. Citizens of cities where there is no end in sight to their shut down are experiencing the mental and physical exhaustion that comes with prolonged shelter in place orders, and Boston is no different.

 People are chomping at the bit to enjoy the spring weather in New England, and many have been. Bostonians are still respecting the restrictions that helped keep Covid-19 numbers relatively low for a major city, but there is a sense of calm there that, for someone coming from New York, was alarming.

 I could not gauge if the calm I felt was a good or bad thing, or if it was just a product of being in a different environment. One where an ever-soaring local death toll isn’t being blasted on major news networks around the clock, and where people aren’t afraid to walk down the same crammed streets so as not to come within six feet of one another.

 It was jarring, and the anxiety I felt is sadly a clear indicator of the toll this pandemic has taken on my psyche and what I see as new social norms—I.e., stay six feet away and wear a mask. 

 On the one hand, I am glad life is going to back to some kind of normal for Boston. On the other hand, with the fear of a second wave looming, I am worried Boston is letting its guard down to soon. 

I felt a strong false sense of security seeing some people in groups out and about, quick to pull down their masks when talking or leaving stores, some walking the streets not wearing masks at all with no show of concern. The number of people obeying restrictive measures outweighed those who weren’t but, still, coming from the epicenter, I deemed my anxiety warranted.

 This is Boston during Covid-19.

A person pulls down their mask to speak in front of the Boston Common “Make Way for Ducklings” statue. May 23, 2020. Photo by Thomas Hengge

A healthcare worker passes the Bostonian, a hotel now offering special rooms to frontline workers to disinfect before returning home to loved ones. May 22, 2020. Photo by Thomas Hengge

A person walks through Boston Common, May 23, 2020. Photo by Thomas Hengge

People walk through a near empty North Street, May 22, 2020. Photo by Thomas Hengge

Boston’s North End, May 22, 2020. Photo by Thomas Hengge

A person jogs by the George Washington statue in Boston Common, May 23, 2020. Photo by Thomas Hengge

A family sits by the pond in Boston Common, May 23, 2020. Photo by Thomas Hengge

A statue of Red Auerbach, legendary Boston Celtic coach, in Quincy Market decorated with a healthcare work scrubs top. May 22, 2020. Photo by Thomas Hengge

“Thank You Heroes!” in the windows of Blue Cross Blue Shield, May 22, 2020. Photo by Thomas Hengge

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A distinct smell spread through Boston Common this weekend as thousands of revelers and activists alike participated in the annual Boston Freedom Rally — an event calling for marijuana law reform throughout the country.

The free event ran for three days and included live music, speeches by activists, panel discussions, art pieces, vendors and a lot of marijuana smoking.

One activist, Robert Forchion, also known as “NJWeedman,” encouraged the crowd to “Smoke it up, feel good.”

While this was the event’s 29th year, it was the first year since the sale of marijuana for recreational purposes became legal in Massachusetts. Recreational marijuana became legal in the state in 2016, but its sale was only legalized earlier this year.

Some of the attendees were disappointed with the slow roll out of marijuana stores and vendors.

“We were supposed to be able to buy weed from July 1st,” said Francis Stevens, 34, of Jamaica Plain.   He has been attending the event for the past six years.

“It’s been more than two months now and the stores still haven’t opened,” Stevens said. “You still need a medical card. It’s bullshit.”

He claimed that local government and authorities are making it difficult for vendors to receive permits to sell marijuana.

But others celebrated the progress that had been made in marijuana reform.

“It’s cool,” said Enrique Hernandez, 22, of Amherst.

“I mean I’m not super into weed, but I like to smoke every now and then,” he said. “Just to relax, you know.”

Although it is now legal to sell recreational marijuana in Massachusetts, the event’s organizers, the Massachusetts Cannabis Reform Coalition or MassCann, made it clear that selling marijuana at the Boston Freedom Rally was prohibited.

But that did not stop vendors from offering marijuana infused brownies and pre-rolled marijuana cigarettes as “gifts” along with the sale of other items. One stall offered marijuana plant T-shirts for sale that came with the “gift” of two pre-rolled joints.

“They need a permit to sell it, but not if they’re just giving it as a gift,” Hernandez said.

Throughout the day crowds listened to live music, political speeches and informative discussions in the makeshift “Education Village.” One session focused on the medicinal value of marijuana in treating cancer, while another offered business and social media advice for aspiring marijuana entrepreneurs. The sessions ended with a discussion of the history of marijuana prohibition.

But not all Boston residents support the annual event, often referred to as “Hempfest.”

“The Common is one of the most beautiful parks in Boston,” said Gloria Puccini, who has lived in South Boston all her life.

“They come and trash the place and then the city has to clean up after them,” said Puccini. “It’s disgusting”.

Tony Di Pietro, 64, a Back Bay resident, was also critical of the event.

“There’s kids there,” said Di Pietro. “I get that it’s legal now but I don’t think it’s safe for our kids to be exposed to that sort of thing”.

According to Stevens, the annual event has survived numerous complaints, lawsuits and legal challenges over the years.

“They’ve tried to get it shut down, but there’s nothing they can do,” said Stevens. “It’s our right. Our freedom.”

The post  A Smoky Weekend in the Boston Common appeared first on Pavement Pieces.

Sean Sheosarah traveled from England to pay his respects at ground zero. Photo by Louie Lazar

Had Oswaldo Brasile’s gear been any more patriotic and “American” in nature, he might have been dressed as Uncle Sam.

The 47-year-old resident of Sao Paolo, Brazil, decked out in a red, white and blue polo shirt inscribed in cursive with the words of the Declaration of Independence, had just flown to New York from Orlando, where he’d been attending business meetings. Now, on this overcast morning in Lower Manhattan, he stood just a few blocks from ground zero where events commemorating the 10th anniversary of 9/11 were underway.

“It seems like a very appropriate shirt for today,” said the Brazilian. Every few seconds another passerby would pat his back or direct a ‘thumbs up’ his way.

Brasile, who described his job title as “President of the Institute of Internal Auditors” in Brazil, said he’d traveled here to “remember and to see how deep the impact [of 9/11] was on people’s lives.”

“And also to give Brazilian support for the U.S.,” he added. “It’s my way to do something.”

On blocks surrounding the 9/11 Memorial that was unveiled here Sunday, foreign visitors like Brasile comprised a sizable chunk of those who packed its sidewalks.

Like their American counterparts, foreign citizens said that they, too, had come to honor the victims and their families. But many of these foreigners also seemed to revel in unofficial roles, self-declared ambassadors of their home nations. They were eager to express their neighbors’ and native countries’ solidarity with America.

Unlike Oswaldo Brasile, whose surname was the only immediate clue as to his country of origin, it was often easy to determine one’s nationality by merely eyeballing the person’s attire.

One example of this was Paul Cull, a 46-year-old with Julius Caesar-style black hair and a black polo shirt featuring the words “New Zealand” near the top. Cull is from Christchurch in the southern part of that country, a historic and scenic city with a river intersecting its center. It’s a land with majestic mountains, about as distant from New York as anyplace on Earth.

“[9/11] was a very significant event in world history, whatever your political views,” said Cull, who noted that he’s in the U.S. doing missionary work unrelated to Sunday’s events. “It has molded and changed the planet.”

In February, an earthquake struck Southern New Zealand with an epicenter near Christchurch, devastating Cull’s community. The disaster claimed nearly 200 lives, and resulted in the nation’s first ever declared State of Emergency.

Cull said his close proximity to that trauma made his attendance Sunday essential.

“We’ve been through our own disaster and can sympathize with the loss of life,” he said. “It’s tragic.”

Along Broadway Street, throngs of foreign journalists shifted about with camera equipment and microphones, jockeying for space and conducting interviews in languages as disparate as Spanish and Mandarin, Japanese and French. Their presence highlighted the international spotlight on the day’s ceremonies.

One such foreign reporter was Christian Hauffman, a morning show news anchor in Berlin, Germany. A tall blonde man of 37, Hauffman, gripping a yellow microphone and sporting a bright red shirt with the words “104.6 RTL: Berlins Hit-Radio” said there’s much interest in Germany surrounding the memorial in Manhattan. He said there were moments of silence in Berlin today to honor the 9/11 dead, adding that many Berliners were attending church to commemorate 9/11.

Hauffman attributed his country’s attention here and his station’s media coverage, by extension, to the climate of uncertainty and alarm that pervaded Germany a decade ago, in the attacks’ aftermath.

“People were frightened, buildings were evacuated,” recalled Hauffman, who was working for another Berlin radio network at the time. “Nobody knew if there were planes that would hit our buildings. People were frightened.”

To most foreign citizens who’d come to pay their respects, however, the reasons for being at ground zero Sunday were more basic.

Sean Sheosarah, wearing a red Liverpool soccer jersey and gnawing on a toothpick, stood in a long, narrow, cordoned-off security line leading to a police checkpoint, awaiting entry into the memorial’s events. A burly, shaved-headed construction worker from Ireland who resides in the UK, Sheosarah, 42, had flown to New York from London solely for this purpose. He said little, but chose his words selectively: he’d be in the U.S. just four days, he said. He’d lived in Boston on 9/11.

Asked why he ventured across an ocean just to be here Sunday, Sheosarah shrugged in agitated fashion, as if the answer were obvious.

“It’s [about] respect, isn’t it?” he said, in a sharp Irish twang. “If you respect something, what’s the difference if it’s a mile away or a million miles away?”

He then removed the toothpick from his mouth, just as a ceremonial bugle began ringing out over Lower Manhattan.

“Distance,” he said, “Has nothing to do with it.”

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