Thanks so much for the great response to this blog!
A special thank you to those who have passed it on to others. We are heading quickly to amazing page visits to this blog! Welcome to folks from all over the country and other countries as well, including Lisbon!!

The "Village", as it was called, is located in the northwest corner of the city of Taunton, Massachusetts U.S.A. It covers about 1 square mile with the center being School Street. A large portion of the Village population was Portuguese when I was growing up.

This blog covers a lot of the history of the Village, much to do with my years as a child there: 1940 through the late 1950's. I do have many wonderful photos and information prior to that that and will share those as well. Always looking for MORE PHOTOS AND MORE STORIES TO TELL.

If you would like to send photos or share a memory of growing up in the Village
e-mail me at
feel free to comment on the posts. Directions are on the right side of the blog posts. Jump in, the water is fine and it is easy!!!

I will be posting photographs but not identifying individuals unless I have permission or they are a matter of public record. It you wish to give me permission, please let me know.

I am looking for any and all photos of the Village...

Please note: the way blogs work is that the latest post is first. It you would like to start from the beginning of the blog, check out the post labels on the right of the blog and go from there. Thanks.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012


We have been chatting about the way we played as children in the Village.  Pretty much it was up to us to find things to do and places to go.  But, for A BIG TRIP, we were taken to Lincoln Park in S. Dartmouth, MA.   The history of that place matches the memories.
Here is a photo of my Aunts Eleanor and Alveda and my Uncle Bunny (John) 
probably taken in the early 40's.  

Much of the information I am sharing is from Wikopedia 
and a couple of websites listed below that you can explore. 

As with much else in our lives then, things seemed simpler.
Federal Spending in 1947 was $34.50 billion. Imagine!
But, clouds were on the horizon as we learned about bomb shelters in the 1950's.
 Still, two tunes on the Hit Parade were Serenade of the Bells and Nature Boy.  

                                                  soundtrack: Serenade of the Bells

Lincoln Park began as a small park on 20 acres just where it stood when we knew it. The Park opened July 4, 1894 drawing crowds of people from the towns all around.  They came by trolley, the trolley system had a hard time keeping up. The name Lincoln Park came from a contest,
the winners name lost to history.

In 1895 the original carousel was opened, later replaced in 1921.  That second beloved carousel now sits proudly at the Battleship Cove in Fall River where it was moved in 1985.

In 1912 a "giant Roller Coaster" was added, replaced in 1946 by the wooden Comet we all knew.
Read more in the second website below for what happened in the history of that coaster, which I do not remember or never knew.

In 1940's the Ferris Wheel and more rides and concessions were added. That helps us to date the photo above, as you can clearly see the roller coaster in the background.

 In the 1980's the owners passed away and the Park was sold.  A lot of us remember seeing that old site with the big FOR SALE sign on the fence, and another indicating that condos were to be built there.  The wooden skeleton of the Comet could be seen disintegrating against the sky.  A group was formed to try to save it as it was one of, if not the only, wooden roller coaster left in the country.  Within this past year, the rest of the skeleton was taken down and carted away.

                         Do you have more memories and photos of Lincoln Park to share?

  Meanwhile, for more information to tickle your memories
check out these web sites and do watch the two videos,
they will really spur those memories into action.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Were we Little Rascals?

                                                     Little Rascals Spanky and Shorty
                                                               You Tube video

Continuing with our discussion of playing in the Village, it seemed this video fit. One gets the flavor of wandering kids passing the time of day in their own adventures.

I have some good story telling pickings here from my husband Norm, who is older than I by two years. Norm was brought up as we were but in a French Canadian neighborhood  (did not attain"village" status) in Ocean Grove, part of Swansea,MA.  He, too, hung with a little gang and here are a few of their "little rascal" adventures.

Seaside there were great places to explore, such as where great chunks of ice gathered and flowed in an ocean inlet. The boys, of course, commenced to jump from one ice floe to another til Norm fell in. Looking up he saw only a ceiling of ice. He thought he was done for but managed to get out with the help of the other boys.  However, when he hit the cold all the water froze on him.  Like a  real  Little Rascal he somehow managed to walk home encased in ice. His brother had gone ahead to tell his mother that Norm had "fallen through".  Upon reaching his house, he walked up the one flight of stairs. He said he "had a little trouble with that as he was a block of ice"! His mother, so glad he survived just wrapped him in blankets, tucked him in bed after giving him a "hot toddy." He never even caught a cold!

His other story was playing that old favorite hide and seek. The boys (as did we) played this endlessly in a patch of woods nearby.  They never could find this one boy.  Turns out he dug himself a foxhole and covered himself with tree branches.  Now there is an expert hide and seeker...they did not discover his secret for a long time!

Our parents did not need science to tell us how to let our children grow and develop.  Dr. Spock had published his first book in 1946.  I do not think it was a big seller in the Village.  Our parent's instincts and their own memories let us loose with tethers of love, though it could be nerve wracking.

One must let children fledge and fly or they stay moored in fear, their creativity stunted.

Sunday, November 18, 2012


It was only when the lights flickered and the newsreel began that we kids started to quiet down.
As I looked at some of the newsreels we watched on You Tube, I wondered  if
 that is where our love of history started.
Here we were, little kids, getting a good dose of world events...

The newsreel was not enough to assure total quiet, I can still hear the chatter and shuffling of little feet back and forth from the refreshment counter and or the elegant rest rooms 
                                                (at least the Ladies, done in pastels)                                                          
                                      If you are a movie theatre historian check this website:

Here are a few facts I found about our theaters:
The Park Theatre was listed in theatre publications as early as 1927.
  On August 26, 1927 a Wurlitzer Theatre organ Opus 1712
 was installed there, 
 Interestingly, the first talkie movie: Al Jolson in the Jazz Singer
 came out that year.  Prior to that only silent films prevailed.

An online movie buff from the Taunton area remembers a tiny blue patch on the screen
at the Park...and as soon as I read that, I remembered it, too.  Do you?

This is a photo of an old 40's movie theatre....not one of ours, but you
"get the picture"
sorry, could not resist that.... 

The aisles slopped down, so we all did
that aisle stoop walk back up and ran back down.
 Elegant light fixtures, red carpeting for the aisles,
seats whose bottoms came up and back, and the satisfying drop of your bottom
as you settled in to the seat, even before the seat finally touched down.
The ornate rococo decor along the side faux balconies. The swish of the wine colored
 velvet drapes swinging open to start the show. The smell of popcorn.

Graduations and special
events were often held in local theaters as did my 1957 high school graduation.

Works of art, my fellow of art.

Now back to the facts, just the facts...
The Park was known for having one of the largest stages in New England.  
Owned by
Mrs. Bentley, Mrs. Margaret Lawson, and Mrs. Rosemary O'Neill. 
 it was demolished April of 1971 along with the Strand.  
According to some, the last film 
shown at either one was
Children of the Dammed.

Some cities and towns have saved their beautiful old theaters using them for art
centers and the like or even to continue showing old films. 


Another interesting face is that at one time there were more theatres in Taunton. 

*  The Star at 107 Main St. (above Goldstein and Antine...remember them?) 
The Star had 600 seats and did not survive The Talkies. The Star was built
in 1897! it is 140 years old....still hanging in there, but too far gone to be saved.

*The Whittenton theatre had 1200 seats.

*The Biltmore...well, no information about that one. Anyone?

Also, a reader has reminded us of the State Theatre on Court St.
Could find no info on that one....can anyone help with that?

Graduations and special events were held in local theaters. Mine high school
graduation in  1957 was held at the Strand.

Friday, November 16, 2012


On Saturdays, our goal as kids was to get to the movie matinees,  Girls helped with housework.
Who knows where the boys went, off to some secret club house. Then every kid in the neighborhood went to morning confession at Church.  I can still hear the whispering and kids nudging each other as we all lined up to recite our itty bitty transgressions. Do you think the priests took cat naps as we chanted our soft litanies?  A priest I knew said that hearing children's confessions was like being nibbled to death by ducks...

But, back to the subject at hand as there is lots to tell. After the morning's activities the procession of kids would begin at one end of the Village, and like the Pied Piper more and more would join in, the matinee calling to us like a mermaid's siren. 
 No adults included, thank you very much.  Just us kids.

In the 1950's there were two movie theaters in our small city, about a mile from the Village.  One was the Park Theatre, the other the Strand.  They were right next to each other down on Broadway at the edge of downtown and very near to our majestic public library.

Do these photos jog your memories?
Notice something about these photographs?

My earliest recollection of those theaters was being taken by my grandmother Delphina when I was still very young to see Snow White.I  think it was showing at the Strand. It's second release was in 1944.  I would have been 4 years old. 
I do know that the witch scared me  (in Snow White....not my grandmother).

Once inside the theatre, there was a steady hum of chattering as everyone jostled for seats.
Frazzled ushers tried to keep everyone calm.

Old ticket stub from the Park Theatre from Marty Martin...precious momento.

Next post: a whole lot of interesting facts about these theatres and their ancestors.
Of course, more about us, too.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012


One very special sound plays in my mind : the soft sibilant sound of the Portuguese language spoken all around us as children.  It traveled on the breeze, no harsh sounds to absorb it.  After all, often only the click clack of a manual lawn mower broke the quiet.

I connect the music of that sound to our front porch on School Street in the Village.
 When I looked at the photos of that front porch over the years, 
I could trace the loss of community we took so for granted.

  Take a peek.

Here is my late cousin Jack Bernandino in front of the Souza homestead porch on School Street. It is totally open, big and wide. Its entrance was a  wide stoop of stairs perfect for sitting, for chatting.  Notice the wicker chair over on the right?  That was where my Grandmother Delphina would hold court.  Often there would be another elderly person sitting next to her discussing things of importance: always in Portuguese.  My grandmother went up to the second grade in Madeira; knew how to read and write. As the unofficial Village secretary she was adept at writing or reading letters for folks who could not do it for themselves.  Sometimes though these visits were about pure remembering, no agenda except to share, to remember, to laugh...perhaps to cry. Sometimes just to share Village happenings.

Sometimes my grandmother sat alone working her Madeira embroidery 
remembering her own stories.

Lots of events took place on the porch: weddings were launched. 

 Here is my Aunt Alveda on her wedding day in 1946.  I am happy to announce
that in 1978 my sister Mariellen left that porch for her wedding reception across the street,
probably as our Aunt Al did. 

Since the house was smack in the middle of School Street, people would stop and chat with my grandmother, with my father or mother, with us.  You had to pass our house since then everyone walked everywhere: to Church, to downtown or just for a turn "around the block". No one was in a hurry.  Menfolk going to the Portuguese American Civic Club across the street always gave a shout out of greeting to whomever was sitting on the porch,

As we got older and times changed,  the porch was closed in a bit.  Here my sisters Kathy and Mariellen and I sit with a friend  in the 1950' as we went off to Girl Scout camp, the porch now screened in.

In the 60's 0r 70's the porch was entirely enclosed creating a room with louvered curtained windows. It documented the changing times in our Village. It was no longer as inviting, but perhaps folks were not walking as much, playing freely as they used to or just moving away.  

There have been two owners since we lived there.  
Now there is a wrought iron fence closing off the yard.

Soudade is the word used in Portuguese for nostalgia, but it goes far beyond that, more like a deep yearning.  When I hear Portuguese being spoken, that is what I feel. I tried to look up translations for thte greetings I remember, they did not seem right.  I leave it up to your own memories.  Spending long hours working on my Grandmother Isobel's history, I would play Portuguese Fada music to put me in the mood.  I recommend this beautiful Fado video.

                                    Listen and close your eyes. This is my gift to you today.

Monday, November 12, 2012


Memories spark more memories....that's how this post started out. My husband and I tried to remember the sounds of our youth. Sweet moments as each one came to mind filling us with the sound it evoked.  I am hoping that you can play this game, too, and share it with us.
 We could savor those sounds then
since it was before the cacophony of leaf blowers and the like.
 It seems now that it is hard to find a moment
 when there are not a whole lot of harsh sounds drowning out
the precious ones meant to be savored like the single notes of a bird.

I will be doing another blog just on this topic.

  Help me write the next one?
This is just a start.

The sound of a wooden screen door closing. 
              This is one of my favorites: if  I am watching an old movie and hear this sound:  
  whoosh it brings me right back!

The sound of clothes on the line snapping in the wind.
There was an art to hanging clothes, and a good line was a woman's pride.
They all loved a good warm wind that would dry the clothes beautifully.

The sound of roosters in the morning. 
Our next door neighbors had a chicken coop
for years and I still love hearing that boasting rooster sing his song.
 Remember the busy communal clucking 
of chickens?

The long sound of the rotary phone being dialed.
Each number had a good distance to go before you connected.

The clack of an old typewriter as each letter pounded into the keyboard. 
My sister and I had the job of typing
statements for my Dad's business so even
my fingertips remember this one, I recently saw
 an episode on the TV program Sunday Morning that
talked of young people rediscovering old typewriters and the
satisfaction of control and simplicity of that old style of writing.

Sounds coming from open windows.
No air conditioning meant that household noises could be shared
by neighbors and the street. Laughter, yelling, the clank of
pots and pans and meals being prepared...we heard it all. 

The sounds of music from radios or record players. 
Here  is a precious You Tube musical interlude to
put you in the mood.  We had this 78 record of Jan Pierce singing
The Bluebird of Happiness.  Would you believe I still have it?
As a child I loved it. It may be the first music I remember.

Click on the arrow, close your eyes and enjoy.

If you remember other songs I can get them from You Tube....

Saturday, November 10, 2012


When I look back at my memoirs, stroll through photos, vintage web sites and so on I find it difficult to try to capsulize what folks in the Village did for entertainment.  Distilling it down, however, I find a lot of it centered on the art of conversation, impromptu gatherings by children or adults.  We learned the art of banter at our parent's knees.  We learned to rely on ourselves, our imaginations to pass the time.  I invite you all to help me with your own comments and memory banks as I set out to do these posts justice.  I thought I had written them sufficiently but there is always the challenge to dig deeper.

        Dr. Seuss wrote: "If you never did, you should.  
These things are fun and fun is good."

                                                                     Here we go:

Gaggles of children could be found all over the byways of the Village. You started with a few, then
others linked on and the days search for fun could begin.  It might start in someone's backyard, or at
an empty lot. Maybe a stop at Jigger's or Bernadino's.  But, the times were few and far between when a child was spotted alone.  You were known and knew each family in each house.  You felt safe and
secure as did your parents who let you roam about. You left the house in the morning and other
than lunch stayed out til late afternoon when the calls of mothers could be heard in the Village.

David Semas sent us this photo: he is in the second row first from the left.  A good example of the little groups of children we were all part of in those days.  I find it heartwarming that the friendships we made as youngsters still warm our hearts.  

You remember this favorite summer past time? A good way to cool off and laugh a lot, too.
Thanks to Pinterest for this photo.  Hours could be spent in noisy fun right on your front lawn.
With luck your Mom would come out with Koolaid (the right kind) and some homemade cookies.

Hours could also be spent with your roller skates. This was made even more interesting
as the sidewalks in the Village were not exactly smooth but rather rutted and bumpy.
That meant skinned knees and elbows 
and then it was time for this:

I stil can see and feel the glass applicator that when applied to your wound of courage
would sting but what a glorious red badge to wear the rest of the day!
If you needed a bandaid it would come from this tin.  I can still
hear the satisfying click when it shut tight.  

Much more to come in the What We Did For Fun Series.  I have been looking forward
to these posts.They were a joy to research.  What's more, as an increasing number
of comments are coming in, it helps to keep my fervor going.  Although I am using my memoirs I
am still researching such great web sites as the history category of Pinterest and
online memoirs by others. Everytime I find something new, or you send in a comment
and even a photo, it helps to enliven the blog,  Keep it up!

PLEASE PLEASE jump in with your photos and memories.


Friday, November 9, 2012


Just a little note: more and more comments sharing memories are coming to the blog. To get the most from the School Street Village blog, read each and every one.  The best way is to click on the
comments at the end of each post which appears on the right.

Thanks and enjoy. 

your blogmeister age 4 years
School St in the Village

Thursday, November 8, 2012


" American childhood, as lived in the fifties by a...middle class

family that seems barely to exist anymore." 


                      Quote by  Amy Finnerty reviewing Richard Russo's own memoir "Elsewhere."

I have drawn up a very rudimentary map of the shops in the Village which ringed it around .  This is not according to scale, of course, just a homey map to orient ourselves.  If you have a review, addition or correction
let me know.  Early on my brother corrected one of my memories...some of them get kind of knocked off now and then so no offense will be taken.

Having written about a lot of those little stores we took so much for granted, 
there are a few more to mention.

When I was growing up there was Sassy's Barber Shop.  Sassy was perpetually cheerful,
 neat as a pin, tall and elegant.  Some of my girl friends even had their hair cut there.
 (Brenda Silvia got a crew cut or "rah'rah" and scandalized everyone).  The door was always open and there was always laughter and banter to be heard,

I do not have a photo of Sassy's, but of an earlier barber shop...
anyone remember this or just where it was?

 Right next door to Sassy's was our own Jimmy the Cobbler, or 
Jimmy the Shoemaker as we called him: 
Jimmy Lawrence.  Jimmy had a thriving business and that sharp smell of 
leather and shoe polish still occupies
a space in my olfactory memory. I recall the piles of shoes ready
 and waiting to be worked on or picked up.

That was a time when we all recycled more and were less of a throw-away society.  
Do you think we are finally going back to that?
 I notice I am......

I did not know that there had been shoe rationing during the war. Do you? 
Just found this on Pinterest. 
Seems it ended in 1945.

  There were other types of businesses growing in our Village: Abreau Oil on Wilber St., Souza Electric, started by my Dad, Frank Souza,  first on Blinn's Ct. and then on School Street.  Enos Plumbing on School St. was another. 
All started by boys from our village, sometimes from their Dads. sometimes on their own.  I researched this more when I worked on the Souza Family Genealogy.  My grandfather, Joseph, whom I unfortunately never knew (he drowned on a fishing trip in Fairhaven in 1927) was one of the first entrepreneurs in the Village. In the early 1920's he had his own wood cutting business then later a furniture store (first on School St., later downtown ). I dearly wish I had known him.  Apparently he was involved in many ventures.
My brother took on the business mantle from our own Dad.  
I think the entrepreneurial spirit runs in our blood.

Abreau Oil on Wilbur St. was started in the 1920's also 
by George Abreau Senior who happened to be a
good friend of my grandfather.  
I remember this stately, quiet and gentle man well.

Ventura Grain, Inc. on Longmeadow Rd. was started in 1924 by Arthur Ventura Senior
 and to this day, along with
Abreau Oil,  is still a flourishing business.  

Ventura Grain, Co.way back when...check out the truck.

 Finally, one last photo before we leave the little businesses of The Village 
and go on to a new subject.
Who could ever forgot the guy who kept the wheels turning in the Village: our own 
"Red the Mailman".
Twice a day up and down each front walk walking his beat.  
Hats off to you Red and our thanks for keeping our mail coming and going.

                                                     I never even knew his name....did you?

                                                                        Red the Mailman

If you have more photos to share, even if they are not on the topic we are posting, please do send them to me.
I will use them at one time or another, even in a special post.


Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Entrepreneurs Abounded

Alexis de Tocqueville wrote in Democracy in America: "What astonishes me in the United States is not so much the marvelous grandeur of some undertakings as the innumerable multitudes of small ones."

You could find nearly everything you wanted in the Village, as we said, by taking a short, often informative walk to one of the shops and markets in the Village.

When Jigger's closed, my Uncle John Bernadino opened a variety store on School St. to carry on the tradition.  It was located just up from Fuller School and near the short cut path that led from School St. through the Rocha yard and on to Wilbur St. which ran parallel to School St.  Here is a wonderful picture of my Uncle and his store sent by my cousin, his daughter Beverly Bernadino Blevins.  I remember as a child reaching up to tender my nickel or dime or imagine: a penny for candy.

                                The signs on the little building are like a history lesson.

              Take a look at this list that I found on Facebook and see if you can almost taste some
                                                             of these memories.

Please note:  there is a new photograph on the post about Mrs. Rosalina Semas,
 now we have a photo of Mr. Semas himself!

Sunday, November 4, 2012


Other than the small markets, there was another type of shop in the Village called The Variety.

The first of these, in my time, was Jigger's Variety.  These photos will really kick your memory drive into high speed...they did me.  Jigger's sat facing Braga Square.
The Village denizens who frequented Jigger's were mainly the teenagers  since that was the place to see and be seen.  My Tia Annie Fostin lived right next door and we often
went to visit her before I was old enough for Jiggers.

                                                            Jigger's Variety circa 1950's

The famous old tree to to the left of the building was a great place for swaggering male teens to lean and play "big shot". Their mode of transportion was the bicycle,
 however, and not the hot rod.

Jigger's sold sundries, newspapers and had a soda fountain (which I had forgotten) as well as cigarettes and candies. Note the gumball machine next to Jigger himself below.
 Also, the paper cups that fit into plastic holders, the frappe metal cup.

 Just keeping looking and let us know what you see and remember.
 I kind of recall dark wooden floors and that there was no seating.  I may be wrong.

                                                                Jigger's name was Jerome.

Saturday, November 3, 2012


Having spoken of the little markets that dotted the Village, one must remember
that if you required other items, they could usually be found in yours or a neighbor's yard.
They might also be found in any of the wagon or truck vendors that traveled the Village such as
The Fish Man who parked in the square while women stood in line to buy fresh fish. Soda from
Gus, the Soda Man (Gus Duarte with his cases of White Eagle Soda), the Korman Water man whose name I do not recall but who was red cheeked and jolly.  Korman Water was added
to the laundry to whiten whites.   Why do I remember more people smiling and taking time to talk in those days?  Maybe because of low overhead: people working for themselves and taking more pride in what they did? Their customers were friends, after all.  People taking time to smell the flowers and enjoy friendship. The lost art
of conversation...either in English or Portuguese.  

                                                    Sandy Souza and Theresa Rezendes
                                                               circa 1944 -1945 
                                                    in the Rezendes vegetable garden on
                                                                     Floral St.

People canned garden produce and "put up" fruits and vegetables.  Large blueberry bushes flourished in the swampy areas along Longmeadow Road. We children, with our parents, would tie bandanas around our waists, hang clean tin cans from them 
and get to picking as much as we could.
Pies, cobblers, muffins, etc would follow and then when freezers became more common, be a taste of summer in the dead of winter.  No one ever heard of toxic preservatives and pesticides then. They were never used.  There was a ubiquitous grapevine in every yard.  It provided shade under which to enjoy a chat, or a place to keep a rabbit hutch.  But, it provided grape juice and jars and jars of home preserved grape jam. The Village was a center of the so-called and very "in" green movement, long before it came into fashion.

                                     My sister Kathy, age 3 or 4, under one of those grapevines.

Some wonderful comments have been shared with us.  The memory of Fuller School being torn down and the children in fourth grade having to be bussed to Hopewell School, the sweet tradition of going home to your parents for lunch no longer a fact of life.  The memory of small market owners keeping their customers fed during the Depression, often forgoing credit payments.  The loyalty that was engendered in Village families right up until those markets finally closed.  Families kept that loyalty in spite of the large supermarkets coming in to the City.   
A very sweet memory of a Halloween party being given by my incomparable Tia Eleanor Souza
whose personality was a light to all who knew and met her.
The memory of Rose Serras who had Serras Market with her husband
with roughened hands doing the math on
 paper bags for a purchase.
Finally, the little boy who was afraid to go into a garage that said: For Tenants Only...thinking Ten Giant Ants lived there!  The little boy down on School St who sold pony rides for a dime....

The Hood milk bottle brought memories of the scoop that took
 out that wonderful cream on the top.
Another gentlemen recalled that when the milk froze out on the stoop, the cream rose up and
pushed off the bottle cap.  As soon as he said it, I remembered it!  Bingo.

Keep them coming!  

Friday, November 2, 2012

                                                     Rosalina Semas, wife of Mr, Semas
                                                                        44 Floral St.
                                       Mr. Semas who brought his cows coming home in the evening.
                                             and here below is a photo of Mr. and  Mrs. Semas
                                                         and their late son, Charley Semas.
                                                              from their grandson, David.

In the Portuguese culture upon meeting a grandparent or elder relative, it was the custom ,when I was growing up, for a child to address them thusly: " Avo, su bencao."
Grandmother, give me your blessing.
The elder would place a loving hand on their head
and answer, "Deus te bencao." God bless you.

David Semas, grandson of Rosalee sent this wonderful precious photograph of his grandmother
making bread in her cellar kitchen. You can see her kneading the bread
 with strong capable hands.

The hands of our mothers and grandmothers were worn and often reddened. I can still see my mother's hands; sewing, baking, canning, creating and weaving her home.  I remember my grandmother's hands as they performed the miracle of Madeira embroidery. 
She also washed and ironed all of the alter linen
for St. Anthony's Church.

Hands were reddened and rough, too, from hanging wet laundry on outside clotheslines in cold weather, later picking them stiff as boards after being frozen dry on a winter day.

Bless you, David, in turn, for sharing with us.


Many memories are starting to be shared in this blog, thank you in behalf of all of us who were so fortunate to be brought up in that time and in that place.  In the next post, I will be sharing more of
the comments that have been coming in as well as more that have come my way.  I am trying to put together a rough map of the shops in the Village.