t 5:10 p.m. March 31, Cambridge gave their girl the electronic nod.
Old men put down the newspapers they were reading and wept. Carla Lewis screamed.

I come from a long line of worriers, with one form of anxiety disorder or another being passed down through the generations, not unlike the premature gray hair, hyper-ticklish feet and a propensity for beer.

Oh, googlemaps, how we adore ye — even when you fail us.

We’ve meandered our way across the Somerville line with the help of not one but two police escorts. (They’re nicer than you’d think.)

I’m a journalist based in Roanoke, Va., and my family and I are about to embark on a yearlong journey to Cambridge, Ma., where I’ve been astonishingly lucky enough to get a Nieman Fellowship for Journalism. I hope to blog about our experiences with the move — the culture change from South to North, my [...]