This one goes deeper.
Yes, the photos we share dip back into those days, those wonderful dear folk that peopled that place. But, what about way down where the tiniest of memories crowd among all the others. Remembering the dress I wore when I recalled that marble game in the Fuller School playground. The feeling of exultation when I was chosen in the game of Red Rover ,Red Rover! The whoosh of air and the sense of taking off in flight when your swing went as high as it could...and all was possible
The camaraderie that tightly bound us. even as little children, goes on to this day even when the storms and fears and loneliness of old age roam around us.
When we gather, even just two of us, sometimes storytelling is such that we end up laughing so hard it is hard to catch one's breath. Remember when....remember when...?
Remember Broadway in the 50's as it looked when we were children and teens.
Mulhern's Pharmacy, the cars we rode in...
Photo courtesy of Charles Crowley( see his Facebook page)
This beauty below is from a time I do not recall yet it does not take much to see it in my imagination. This was the corner of Weir Street and the Green probably sometime in the 40's . Some type of Parade when parades meant something. I do recall that in my youth there was another pharmacy, Dunnington's, on that corner, though not so large, I do not think.
Below, Main Street in 1939. Imagine: the ever present New York Lace Store! That store has weathered the years and is still in Taunton at that same spot today, 2014! It would be great to research that downtown mainstay. I believe this photo is thanks to Steve Koska.
These photos are meant to tickle your memories or if you did not grow up in the fair city of Taunton, to try to recall the downtowns of your past. This blogger would welcome any of your photos in this regard.
We humans have whole lifetimes of memories that we can store deep inside. Amazingly, most of us can retrieve them from our immense capacity! No wonder they come trickling up unbidden. You know how that goes? One must capture them, let them flow and link on to others. The trick is to let the joy bubble up. When you grew up in the Village, they usually are the bubbling variety, I assure you. Too often we let computers replace our memories and they grew hazy.
Above, late cousin Barry's first birthday in the 50's, a party loaded with cousins and aunts.
On Blinn's Court off School St. in the Village. Barry is being
held by his Mom.
Computers can help, but not replace. That is the sadness of dementia for so many, that they are robbed of those memories. I pray that perhaps, though we do not know it, they still strengthen them. The first friend I knew as a child is now in that darkness.
This is a precious photo of my first friend on School St. where we both were born.
This photo is from my archives. Somehow my mother saved this all those years.
It was probably taken around 1945. It is as cloudy as the years that have passed.
But, it is clear in my heart. This was taken in the backyard victory garden of her family,
next door to where we lived for a time.
Sometimes photos tug on your heart strings and make you sad to know you can no longer reach out.
Yet, I believe that somehow still reaching out touches somewhere with love.
I was her Maid of Honor way back when ( we bought her gown and my dress at NY Lace Store). Now every few months I send her a card. No matter that she does not remember. Yet her husband one day said my name to her, she thought a moment and said....."wedding"... It gave my heart such comfort to hear that. I have three friends total in her category. I keep on sending my little cards reminding them and their families that I do not forget.
The treasures of growing up are locked inside of us. The events, the history of our time help us to access what lies beneath. What lies beneath for me is rock solid love and safety. As a high schooler I babysat after school and did not head home til around 6 p..m. In the winter months it was dark. Alone I shuffled my feet through the piles of leaves along Dauphin's fence. When I could see 184 School St. it was the golden light of the front window that welcomed me. I knew it was warm inside, busy with children's voices, and the smell of another wonderful Mom dinner. Home.
During those days, I promised myself I would never leave Taunton. Well, that sure did not happen except for a brief few years. I wandered to far off places and experienced a life far removed from that little house. That is why now I realize that I never did leave, neither the Village or the Taunton I knew growing up. It still inspires me, it still makes me feel safe. It still teaches me what a real community offers the people it shelters.
Photos help, stories help. Fingering the pages of my scrapbooks or going through my iPhoto albums all takes me back. It takes me back to see the photos Charles Crowley posts or the memories shared by Arlene Gouveia. Precious are the leaves of our lives stored in these photos and stories.
To further enhance this post click to my earlier posts below.
They will reference the reasons I began this blog.