Ventured into Boston and a couple other spots this weekend. Part 2 from the Portsmouth photos.

Stand with the workers of Store 1572 as they challenge corporate intimidation & fight for their rights! I’ll be sharing the encouraging comments with Store 1572 workers. Your words of support can empower them to stay strong & united! Here’s what helps most:

• Message of Encouragement: Even just a "Solidarity with Store 1572! Stay strong!" 
• Share your Union Experience: If you've been part of a union, share your experience!​ 
• Counter Corporate Propaganda: Help debunk anti-union lies & misinformation they’ll be subjected to! 
• Highlight Power of Collective Action: Emphasize what workers rights & solidarity mean in practical terms.

Hello everyone, I am new to this state And i wonder if you could give recommendations to places where i can have fun in my weekends. I am open to making friends as well. I don’t drink or smoke! So i don’t go to bars. I am 25 I speak English and Arabic fluently. I have a lot of interests but would love to keep recommendations spontaneous :). Have a good day everyone!

Hey guys, looking for great recommendations regarding any good old school style seafood places anywhere along the coast of New England. Looking for that really gritty, “back in the day”, “aye sir” lobster pot fishing atmosphere. Somewhere you find walking to the end of a dock surrounded by sea foam and a joint was erected selling simple seafood boils and dishes. Central CT native so mainly looking anywhere above Boston.

Restaurants w the same vibe as Tuscan kitchen (the Salem, NH location!!)?

Artists: Fame & PdotC | Knicolas

@Fame_NE | @PdotC_NE | @KnicolasMusic

One If By Land, Two If By Sea:

https://archive.org/details/bangarang_202504

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Listen, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five: Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, “If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch Of the North-Church-tower, as a signal-light,— One if by land, and two if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country-folk to be up and to arm.”

Then he said “Good night!” and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay, Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war: A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon, like a prison-bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street Wanders and watches with eager ears, Till in the silence around him he hears The muster of men at the barrack door, The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, And the measured tread of the grenadiers Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed to the tower of the church, Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, To the belfry-chamber overhead, And startled the pigeons from their perch On the sombre rafters, that round him made Masses and moving shapes of shade,— By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, To the highest window in the wall, Where he paused to listen and look down A moment on the roofs of the town, And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead, In their night-encampment on the hill, Wrapped in silence so deep and still That he could hear, like a sentinel’s tread, The watchful night-wind, as it went Creeping along from tent to tent, And seeming to whisper, “All is well!” A moment only he feels the spell Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread Of the lonely belfry and the dead; For suddenly all his thoughts are bent On a shadowy something far away, Where the river widens to meet the bay,— A line of black, that bends and floats On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride, On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. Now he patted his horse’s side, Now gazed on the landscape far and near, Then impetuous stamped the earth, And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; But mostly he watched with eager search The belfry-tower of the old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. And lo! as he looks, on the belfry’s height, A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight A second lamp in the belfry burns!

A hurry of hoofs in a village-street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet: That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, Kindled the land into flame with its heat.

He has left the village and mounted the steep, And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; And under the alders, that skirt its edge, Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. He heard the crowing of the cock, And the barking of the farmer’s dog, And felt the damp of the river-fog, That rises when the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock, When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees, And felt the breath of the morning breeze Blowing over the meadows brown. And one was safe and asleep in his bed Who at the bridge would be first to fall, Who that day would be lying dead, Pierced by a British musket-ball.

You know the rest. In the books you have read, How the British Regulars fired and fled,— How the farmers gave them ball for ball, From behind each fence and farmyard-wall, Chasing the red-coats down the lane, Then crossing the fields to emerge again Under the trees at the turn of the road, And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere; And so through the night went his cry of alarm To every Middlesex village and farm,— A cry of defiance, and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, And a word that shall echo forevermore! For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, Through all our history, to the last, In the hour of darkness and peril and need, The people will waken and listen to hear The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed, And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

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https://discord.gg/YznFQKWF

Artists: Fame & PdotC | Knicolas

@Fame_NE | @PdotC_NE | @KnicolasMusic

Okay, so I posted about stumbling into a play called More Little Devils on Cape Cod, seeing Alfre Woodard in attendance, and having zero expectations. But the performances completely blew me away, and apparently, I wasn’t the only one. Over 33,000 people viewed that post in just 24 hours.

Well, I just found out the show is happening again tonight, and this time it’s free in a completely different town. It turns out this wasn’t just a one-night event. It’s now moving from town to town like a tour across the Cape. They are bringing live theater to different communities, and because of all the buzz, they are not even charging for tickets tonight. It’s free if you’re on the Cape.

These actors are insanely talented, and the Helltown Players’ stories hit hard. Plus, you never know who is going to show up in the audience. Alfre Woodard was at the show I went to, and I still can’t believe it. If you missed the article and the reactions, check it out, people are really talking. You can read more about it in this article I found here!

Oh, and you welcome.

So, I’m from Brooklyn and had never really spent much time on Cape Cod before. A good friend of mine just moved down there, and I figured it was a perfect chance to visit and see what the area was all about. While we were looking for things to do, we stumbled upon More Little Devils, a play that was running in town. Neither of us knew much about it, but the idea of six short plays all packed into one night sounded intriguing. We decided to give it a shot, and I’m so glad we did

The night turned out to be unforgettable, and not just because of the incredible performances. The real surprise? Alfre Woodard was there! I’m a huge fan of hers, and getting to meet her in person was a dream come true. I was honestly a bit starstruck and didn’t even get a chance to ask what brought her to the show. I still can’t believe I was in the same room as her!

It is astonishing how out of touch our legislative leaders are with the actual state of affairs in CT. There is not enough time to list the daily and annual $'s that residents spend that are taxed and "tariffed" by the state over and over and over again. Licenses, registrations, gas tax, sales tax, special automobile tax, energy tax, utility tax,. This statement by the governor is absolutely shocking.

https://ctmirror.org/2025/04/02/ned-lamont-donald-trump-tariffs/