“Of course that’s your contention.”
—Will Hunting
One time when I was a kid, I was looking at a world map with my dad. At the bottom of the map, there was a collection of the flags of all the nations of the world.
I remember being confused by something weird about the collection of flags: the American flag was the same size as all the other flags. It didn’t make sense. America is the best and the most important. How could the creator of this map make such a silly mistake? That is what I asked my dad. I forget how he responded. He must have thought it was funny. But what is serious is that this is the attitude of many Americans.
You find this attitude at a state level within America as well, but nowhere as much as Massachusetts.
Massachusetts native that I am, I even used to think the NFL was all a setup for the New England Patriots to win, like how fake WWE matches are setups for a certain wrestler to win. I thought, well, it is Massachusetts, the team colors are red white and blue, and the team is the Patriots. Of course it is setup for them to win. If you think that is ridiculous, you’re right. But consider that the first season I remember watching was when they went 16-0 in the regular season. Watching them dominate was electric.
You know that electricity well if you’ve ever been part of the crowd at a Patriots game. Or a Celtics or Red Sox game. Or just walked outside in Massachusetts. The passion for the professional sports teams here is one thing that contributes to the existence of the term Masshole. I think this was originally supposed to be an insult, but people from Massachusetts seem to have embraced the term.
Impatience, unfounded cockiness, and blunt speech are not bugs, but features of being from the Bay State.
Ask a Masshole if Massachusetts is the best state in America and one of two things will happen. They will not have time to speak to you. Or they will simply start insulting other states.
As they walk away, they would also wonder if you have read any history books. Like, don’t you know we have top-ranked healthcare, university, and championship parade systems? And haven’t you ever heard of Iced coffee, Irish pubs and the freezing cold? We invented that stuff.
I’m lucky to have been born in a place that invented so many cool things.
And recently, I’ve been reflecting a lot on this cool place, on the spirit of America. And I want to tell you more about its glory.
Let us, for the sake of this article, forget about the bad stuff.
Let us forget about the high taxes, the limited sunlight, and the delusional radical leftist agenda that gets pushed at universities. Let us even forget what the man himself, George Washington, said about people from Massachusetts (In the book 1776, I learned that Washington despised the troops from Massachusetts, for a bunch of reasons I will not share here.)
Let us instead see the good reasons why people are proud to be from Massachusetts.
We can start by acknowledging the giants on whose shoulders we stand. Consider the impressive list of legends born and raised in Massachusetts: Heroes of the American Revolution, like John Adams, John Hancock and Benjamin Franklin. Comedians of such brilliance they make your stomach hurt in the best way, like Joe Rogan, Steve Carrell and Bill Burr. Actors who've been in so many epic films you can't even name them all, like Ben Affleck, Mark Wahlberg and Matt Damon. Courageous leaders of the abolition movement like William Lloyd Garrison, Wendell Phillips and W.E.B. Du Bois. Genius writers that inspire you like Henry David Thoreau, Emily Dickinson, and Ralph Waldo Emerson.1
Many of these figures were from the best known part of Massachusetts, Boston.
Boston is beautiful. A recent time I was there, watching a regular-season Celtics-Pacers game, a friend remarked that it looked like Europe. It is old indeed. That’s part of its charm—there is such a rich and fascinating history.
But you’ve heard enough about Boston.
I don’t need to tell you why it’s great; it’s famous enough. You know about Harvard and MIT, Fenway Park and Faneuil Hall, Castle Island and the Charles River. And while the company I work for has an office in Boston, I only go in occasionally; it’s a hybrid work setup and I don’t live in the city.
You could probably learn more about Boston by just watching The Town or The Departed than by reading something I write.
So, instead, let me teach you about two places I know much better: Worcester and Amherst. Why should you care? Well, reader, unless you’re someone I know from these places you probably shouldn’t care. So if that is the case, go ahead and skip to the end. There you will see my closing remarks on the magic of Massachusetts.
A Brief Love Letter To Worcester, Massachusetts
Worcester, Massachusetts is the second biggest city in New England.
With a population of around two hundred thousand, Worcester is home to eight colleges, ten high schools, and an unlimited number of teenagers on bikes looking to do bad things.
The evolution of Worcester over my lifetime has been a joy to witness. The exploding popularity of the Woo Sox, all the nice new apartments popping up, and the transformation of the downtown area are all examples of the impressive improvements recently made in the city.
One of my favorite parts of Worcester is the coffee shops. Three great cafes—where I have spent a weird amount of time writing and hammering cold brew—are Nu Cafe, BirchTree Bread Company, and Acoustic Java. Fantastic environments and excellent coffee.
Regarding the people, Worcester is a place of impossibly funny and interesting characters. Thanks to this, a superpower many people from Worcester have is being able to talk to anyone. And being comfortable doing so. You encounter so many different kinds of people in Worcester.
From the earliest memories of elementary school, I was around so many different cultures. There is a wild diversity of religions, ethnicities, and languages in the city.2
You have a deep history of immigrants from Ireland and Italy. You have 20% of the city speaking Spanish. You have very large communities of Albanians and Brazilians. And growing up I knew people whose families came from all over the world—particularly Nigeria, Ghana, Liberia, Vietnam, and India. You can easily imagine how such a mix of cultures would always be interesting, and often great fun.
Another fun part about growing up in Worcester was how, in high school, there were virtually no friend groups limited to one school. Whether it was meeting up at a party, a baseball game, or being in random Snapchat group chats, it was always exciting becoming friends—or enemies—with people from a different school or different part of the city.
There was always that openness to connection amongst Worcester natives.
But if you’re not from Worcester, and have met someone from Worcester, you might notice they carry a certain demeanor, almost like a chip on their shoulder. I don't really have this anymore, but one explanation for why it exists is the way conversations with new people from other parts of Massachusetts often unfold.
For example, when I was in school at UMass Amherst, initial small talk would inevitably lead to the question, "So, where are you from?" I'd say Worcester, and the reaction was almost always the same. First there would be slight confusion. "Oh, so which town near Worcester?" they'd ask. When I'd clarify that I meant the actual city of Worcester, there'd often be a raised eyebrow, and that rapid movement of the eyes that people sometimes do when they’re processing information, followed by a look of subtle disapproving suspicion.
Maybe I was just being paranoid. And I definitely was paranoid a lot in college, hehe. But sometimes it felt like people were suddenly looking at you in a different, negative way just because you said you are from Worcester.
Imagine that, instead of a casual "Oh, cool," a significant amount of people you meet have this bizarre reaction. It's no wonder people from Worcester develop a bit of a chip on their shoulder. This example is a small thing, but it always bothered me because it is so stupid.
Worcester has its issues. Like any city, it has poverty, violence, and some rough edges. But the way people from other parts of Massachusetts perceive it is illogically negative.
If you spend a weekend in Worcester with an open mind, you will find so much to like about the place and its people. I know for sure you will enjoy many great laughs.
For the endless amusing absurdity, for the rich variety of people, for the basketball scene, for the cafes and parks, for the parties, and for everything that keeps getting better about this place, I thank God I was born and raised in Worcester.
Oh, Amherst
Amherst is a silly little town in the middle of nowhere.
If UMass Amherst and Amherst College did not exist, Amherst would be the worst place on Earth. I joke, of course. I am just confused by the mind of a person who lives in Amherst but is not a college kid, that’s all. Although I can understand a little why someone would live there when I consider the nature.
I found the nature in Western Massachusetts exceptionally beautiful.
On Sunday mornings, after dropping my clothes at the laundromat, I always loved getting an iced coffee and driving around Amherst and the surrounding towns. This would soothe my hangovers. Caffeine in my veins. Music. Looking at the wavy hills, the open farms, the clean sky.
It is not only the nature out there that is brilliant. The UMass campus is awesome. Delicious dining spots everywhere, an always active recreation center, and so many nice academic buildings with perfect spots to post up and study. And, of course, people laying down on the grass like they are at the beach. The campus is not real life.
Then there is downtown Amherst.
There are many high quality apartments in downtown Amherst, and many high quality restaurants like Johnny’s Tavern, The Works, and the famous Antonio’s Pizza.
But the most fun part of downtown Amherst is this place called Spoke. Spoke is a bar. But it might be more accurately described as an adult playground. That is if you consider the twenty-one to twenty-four-year-olds that frequent the place adults. Which you can’t. So I don’t know what it actually is, Spoke.
What I do know is that it should not be legal for three reasons.
The first reason is that the amount of people that would stuff into the building was not safe; you were rarely in there and it wasn’t shoulder to shoulder.
The second reason is that the music was so loud that by the end of the night your eardrums were damaged.
The third reason is you would ask for a tequila soda and they would give you a cup of gasoline. At any given time, around half of the people there were blackout drunk. Probably more. Like, buckled. Like, a word-slurring, careless-dancing, drooling-on-the-bar-type of cranked. The bartenders gave you a generous pour.
I don’t drink anymore, but needless to say, all of the reasons why it should be illegal are all the reasons why it was such a good time.
The last night I experienced in that hole was a memorable one. Memorable because it was the last time bar hopping in Amherst with my roommates, some of the funniest humans who have ever lived, and who I all miss deeply. And memorable because the Boston Celtics were playing in the Eastern Conference Finals. We watched Derrick White tip in a game winning shot at the buzzer. Everyone in the place lost their mind. It was epic.
Amherst is small, but it felt like the whole universe—including all the aliens—were there on a Saturday night. On most nights. That place is a thrilling fantasy land. I’m grateful that is where I lived four years of my life. I miss the little stuff the most. Hanging out in the living room with my friends, talking nonsense. That is what I miss the most.
What I Find Magical About Massachusetts
What is Massachusetts, to me?
Massachusetts, to me, is someone outside an Irish pub wearing shorts while it is snowing, who, as he smokes a cigarette, is giving you some sort of advice, even though he himself seems to not be doing so well.
Massachusetts to me is being on Cape Cod on the Fourth of July listening to Toby Keith.
Massachusetts to me is rich girls driving around in Jeeps with the top down wearing pink long sleeve shirts that say Chatham in white letters.
Massachusetts to me is people jokingly imitating the Boston accent so much that it actually becomes their accent. They start talking about doing mahekting and making business cahds.
Massachusetts to me is a group of Puerto Ricans riding bikes with the front wheel in the air on their way to go scream in Spanish at a little league baseball game.
Massachusetts to me is the privilege of getting all the seasons in an intense way, the bright orange fall, the glowing piles of snow, the damp summer thunderstorms.
Massachusetts to me is getting kicked out of Fenway Park in the third inning because you downed a sleeve of mint McGillicuddy’s nips on the train before the game.
Massachusetts to me is twenty sixteen-years-olds all having out-of-body experiences in a basement watching Tom Brady sling the rock in the Super Bowl.
Massachusetts to me is going to a youth basketball tournament where there is a DJ perched on a balcony blasting hip-hop club remixes. It is nine in the morning, and there are five games being played all on courts next to each other. In almost all of the games, people are full-court pressing and aggressively fouling each other, but the refs are not calling the fouls. The parents in the stands are swearing at each other. Again, it is nine in the morning, on a Sunday.
To me, that’s Massachusetts. That’s home.
Self-Reliance (1841) by Emerson is a heroic essay.
This is one reason, I think, why I am so curious. Immersion in so many different perspectives probably stimulated my mind in a certain way, leading to me becoming a serial question-asker.
Fired up after this. I need some tea to toss in the harbor.
Another great one Jeff - thanks!