I enjoy being a townie. Townie of course is a description that is up for debate. I have lived in town for 50 years but was not born here so in some cases the native born still consider me a carpet bagger. Despite what others might think, for me it is an appropriate label because I feel like a “townie”.
Nothing reinforces that feeling for me more forcefully than my ride to work in the morning. Although I have a number of options which are more direct and more economical in terms of time, I always go the same way. I start on Francis Wyman Road, head up Bedford Street across 3A, down Center Street to Winn and on to Route 128. I go that way because I start my day every day with a fond trip down memory lane. In this one 2 ½ mile trip most every good thing that has occurred in my life happened along this trail.
It starts kind of slowly by passing by the old Wildwood Elementary School where I attended 2nd grade through 5th grade. These memories are somewhat dim except for the fact that I still see some of my classmates around town. What’s more fresh is the fact that both my children went to the same school and we all three shared the same 3rd grade teacher.
Next up is the local parish where the kids were baptized and we were all confirmed. A little further up the road is the cemetery where my parents are buried as well as many of the local luminaries who I grew up admiring in local politics.
At the top of Bedford Street the memories begin in a huge rush. At the top of the Bedford Street hill there is the oldest church in town where I got my first kiss one night at a church sponsored dance. I will always be grateful to the Protestants for that! On the opposite side is Simond’s Park. This is the scene of so many memories I will condense them into a stream of consciousness. My first home run I hit, the first of many hit off of me, 25 stitches in my face, two broken feet, 6 chipped teeth, numerous sprains, poker games, cigarette smoking, parking, and so many belly laughs I smile just thinking about it. Those were just as a kid. As an adult I have had even more memories there watching my own children and others that I have had the joy of coaching.
On the right side at the lights is an old building that once served as the town’s library. I came from a family of readers so it was not uncommon to see paperbacks lying all over the place. There were always a large selection to choose from in the throne room. Never the less I can remember my first trip to the library and being in awe of such a collection. I can remember just walking down each row and wondering how long it would take me to read all of them.
I look back and completely understand how impressionable kids are when I see this building that I was so with taken with at the time is now an old relic to little to serve any purpose except as the only museum in town.
Crossing Route 3A brings me to the Union School or what is now the police station but 80 years ago or so was the first major school building in the town. When I got there it housed only 6th graders as the town was busting at the seams with school age children. It was here that I met my wife for the first time in Mr. MacDonald’s room. More on that later. The friends I have today were for the most part made on that play ground.
Next up is the Center school which in the 30’s was the town’s first high school but housed just 7th graders by the time I got there. When we started there we were busting out all over socially with dances and the Friday night roller skating bus and 13 year old Hell raising in general. The principal of the school was one Mabel Keating. A stern woman that would strike the fear of God in any of us who she confronted. She patrolled everywhere. Your shirt had to be buttoned to the top, your lunch better be eaten and if you were hanging out in the boy’s room she would damn well come in there and pull you out by the scruff of the neck.
It was against this back drop that one of the funniest events of my short life occurred. A bunch of us including one Martin Hill were hanging around at recess and I lit off some firecrackers I had brought to school. Mabel came through the parking lot like a whirlwind and grabbed poor Marty Hill by the throat. For the moment we all thought this was hilarious. Later on in class we heard Ms. Keating’s voice on the intercom to all the classes say that Marty was in deep deep trouble. We could almost hear Marty whimpering in the background. Ms. Keating said that Marty denied having set off the firecrackers and she expected the guilty party to show up in the office at once. I am not sure if I was feeling sorry for poor Marty or I wasn’t sure he could stand up to the interrogation so I walked up to the front of the room and told my teacher that Ms. Keating wanted to see me as I was the guilty party.
I got up to the outer office and the lady at the desk said not a word but pointed to the half opened door of Ms. Keating’s office. Through the crack I could see a poor forlorn looking Marty sitting with moist eyes. I knocked on the door and walked in and said to no one in particular that it was me. A very angry looking Mabel looked at Marty and pointed to the door and Marty was gone like the wind.
Strangely enough I wasn’t all that scared because I was well deserving of the ruler that was coming to me for this transgression and many others. Everyone knew that Ms. Keating beat the Hell out of kids with the ruler although none of us knew anyone who had actually been struck. Much to my astonishment, Ms. Keating came around the desk with a plate of cookies and offered me one! In a tone of voice which I had never heard from her she said “well Phillip, you are a very honest boy.” We chatted amicably for a few minutes and she sent me happily on my way. Later that day at a school assembly she made me stand up in front of everybody as an example of honesty. It took years to live that down with my peers.
There are two more stops rich with years of memories down the street. On Winn Street is the now middle school which the served as our high school at the time. By the time I was a senior we had had two years of double sessions. It was the early sixties and the system was out of control. I was part of a class of 35 males and rocket science was not our major. Hi jinx of every kind was the order of the day including cocktails and other assorted delicacies. Most all of that subject is to be left for reminiscing with the boys but the best part for me was again being re-acquainted with my later to be bride.
On the first day of school in my junior year I showed up in a Problem’s of Democracy class. Two things I noticed immediately were that people I recognized were actually students so my being there was a mistake. The other was this raven haired beauty sitting in front of me. I told Eddie Hosmer two things, I am transferring out of this class and I am going to marry that girl. About 200 yards down the street on the right is the church we got married in 4 years later.
Those are just a few of the things I like about being a townie and the ride to work.
