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.

Tuesday, December 20, 2016


For  myself and others graced with a childhood in the "olden days", Christmas memories twine around our hearts like a wreath.  Kind of like the photograph below taken by my
mother.  She had carved and painted the little hearts that are so full of message.

Why, we ask, is the term "Christmas" so frightening for some?  It's been a tough couple of years for "Christmas".  Hijacked, reviled, given other meanings, subsumed into someone else's holiday...poor Christmas.  Christmas has never done anything but be itself.  The term means Christ-Mass, a specifically Christian derivation.

Still with all of that Christmas shines on.  Precisely because
 the term is less seen it shines even brighter!

The remnants of a real Christmas are all around us.  Twinkling lights set off apps in my head tuning into the real meaning of Christmas.  Those of us born in the 40's and 50's
 can access that meaning knowing that it is more about the Creche than commerce, 
more about love than gifts.

There was a spirituality about it all, the Christmases I knew.  We can still find it today if we seek it in the right places, sort of like following the star.  But, back then it surrounded and comforted us.

My memories jostle for space - they live at the foot of years upon years of Christmas pasts.

Joy was found in DIY (do-it-yourself)  long before the term became vogue.  Out in the woods on a sharp snowy winter day looking for the perfect greens, the best moss, holly and red berries. Small feet crunching on packed snow looking for the wherewithal to create a creche for the Holy Family.  

It tickles the top of my nose to remember the cold. 
Our baskets filled with gifts from the forest.

As I went through old photographs not yet on my computer albums, I came across this one. Amazed, I realized it was taken in 1947 and included our Christmas tree and creche or it was my Aunt Eleanor's?   Just above my head (I am the oldest at 7 years old,)  is the creche filled with greens from the woods nearby. Greens we had picked.  You can see the wise men figures approaching the crib.  Note the levels, they were comprised of moss and rocks and perhaps boxes holding it all up. Next to that on the right is the Christmas tree strewn with old fashioned tinsel. That is my little brother on my lap, my sister Kathy next to me.  It was tradition that we girls wore velvet for Christmas day, and this was taken Dec, 25, 1947. To the right is my cousin Helena, my Aunt Eleanor's daughter. To this day I love wearing velvet around this holy day.

One of my sisters has my mother's handcrafted creche with all its ceramic figures she lovingly painted in a ceramics class.  I recognize each little statue like an old friend feeling the curves and lines of the angel watching over it all.  Year after year more tiny figures were added as my mother was given or came upon little squirrels, tiny fish, a mirror to act like it was a pond.  Then she started carving her own little animals, too. Each year the Creche became higher, wider. Soon there were levels that pretended to be hills and sparkling dark blue cloth like the night sky. First, we as children were drawn into the Christmas story within that beloved scene, then grandchildren knew it each year as they grew.  There were two stories.  The great, grand story of a Savior's love for us, and the wonderful warm story of a mother and grandmother's love for us children. Added to that was another Creche created out of love and that was of our dear Aunt Eleanor.  Her Christmas seasons were over too soon but not before her love had marked us and kindled in us the understanding of this season.

                                 Mom's Christmas figures in a new home still telling its story. Below
                                        more tiny creatures to grow the Nativity Scene.

Did you know that St. Francis of Assisi created the very first Nativity Scene in 1223? He had been inspired by a trip to the Holy Land. His Scene was a live one. It started the whole world wide custom and continues to this day. Each culture made it their own with the landscape and people.  For example, the Portuguese put a little pot of sprouting wheat seeds alongside the manger symbolizing the Bread of Life.  In every Christian Church today, some form of Nativity scene is displayed, and in many homes as well.  The Message continues.

As a child, our Christmas times were filled with wonder and what seemed like a never-ending celebration.  The stars in the Village winter nights promised bulging stockings (even if only with tangerines and hard candy) and presents below our tree (not many but each precious).  By the by the Christmas stockings were our own and not works of art.

The great Creche in our Village Church, St. Anthony's, could fit a small child as it did so long ago. The bright warm lights and soaring voices of our choir set our souls aglow. The Nativity set was so large whole pine trees guarded its boundaries, red poinsettias warming it along with the single light shining down on the manger where the child would lay.

Part of all the magic was going down to see the Christmas display on the Green in the center of Taunton.  As a 7 year old the lights and snow must have seemed incredible. Would that we keep our childhood sense of wonder.

Below is a photo of the Taunton Green Christmas display in 1947, the same year as the photograph above with us children. years of the Christmas City displays.  An interesting note from the book "Candles on the Green" is that the lights-on ceremony that year boasted light snow.  On Christmas Eve the temperature was below zero. The day after Christmas, Rosalind Ballroom burned down! A few historical tidbits from my little city that keeps its Christmas displays going even to this day...and always containing a religious motif!

The gift of Family was learned, too.  Back then, the arms of many Aunts, their coats scented with the cold, were always seeking to hug and clasp close a small one.  The laughter and energy of a gaggle of cousins high on Christmas candy and excitement sounded through our house.

We feed on our memories, the good ones from my childhood Christmases color over in bright hues any sad ones.  There was such a place as the Village in the 40's and 50's and we lived there. It takes longer to reach back now, I may forget a thing or two. But, they continue to be brought back to life.

 Our memories can still be a source of smiling and sharing.  They still occasion a prayer for those no longer here.  Today the digital world provides us with a way to share such memories.  The great thing about this blog is that it will still be here long after I am gone.  Still a remembrance of such a place - of faith, family and friends.

But, not yet.  Still going...this little engine of memories.  Still being crafted and dusted off.

         May your memories sparkle this year, soothe what might ail you
 and keep you and yours close.
Sandra Souza Pineault




Story of St. Francis of Assisi and the Nativity Scene

1947 Photograph of Christmas on the Green: Bristol County Historical Society

Candles on the Green: Charles Crowley and Dr.  William Hanna. Available at the Bristol Country Historical Society as well as

Photographs from my Collection and that of my sister, Kathleen Campanirio.
Photography collection of my mother, Angelina Souza.

Saturday, September 3, 2016


                         Ah, of course I could not retire altogether, could I?

Not when something special comes along- like this: THE ROSE FAMILY MUSICAL LEGACY.
This new post is about Arlene Rose Gouveia and her creation of a legacy document or family history. She has packed this work with family history going back decades.

The term legacy document is a legal term but I prefer it to have another connotation. I prefer it
to be a unique kind of written bequest that gifts a family with their own history. Genealogical charts are incredibly important to any family.  But, it is when these facts are brought to life with story
and pictures that it comes alive historically.

                   What a legacy to leave to a family now and way into the future!

Not only did Arlene write a book, with the help of her son it is also an e-book so that untold
numbers of people can and will read it.  You can read it at:

In the case of this book, she has taken only one aspect of her
family history, albeit a very major one,  and created a 
delightful historical textual and pictorial work.  You do not
have to be a member of the Rose family or even have
grown up in the School Street Village to enjoy it.

I am pleased to publish this post announcing where you can find this. Both Arlene and I have been dedicated to keeping our families and the magic Village where we grew up from
being forgotten.  For me, it was this blog.  For her, it was assisting with this blog and now with this lovely and important book.

God bless, Arlene, and we hope this is only the beginning
of more of your sharing to keep our history alive.

Wednesday, July 6, 2016


FULLER SCHOOL circa 1950's
 Bidding goodbye to my Memoir of the School Street Village.  It is hard to summarize the story of this Blog, the places it went, the people it met, remembered and met once again.

 It began five years ago, the need to assure that the School Street Village story was not lost. It
began with an old photograph of our beloved Fuller School above.  It started as a memorial for all those classmates and dear ones lost over the years. It was dedicated to a dear friend since my early childhood who can no longer remember.  It's purpose was to remember for her.  It ended up being much more than that.


 It went on to gather, to present the stories of our people bit by bit and some of the history they lived through. It went back and back. It searched out stories of the Village that I knew and that others taught me like the incredible Arlene Gouveia.    I  cherished and presented like jewels each story for others to recall and savor all over again.  I wrote each word with all the love that grew in me for that place that was my childhood home.

Dredging up my memories, you see me at the age of five below, the the tapestry began to take place. Soon others joined in and the story grew with photographs so precious they took my breath away.

Me  at age 5 years

I have loved each moment of writing and researching this blog over the years.  I hope that it encourages others to try to gather their own basket of memories and reach out to others to put it all together.  So many readers have visited this blog and I imagine that it rings many bells of their own growing up.  Those of us that lived through those times are richer because of it.  I know others will continue to read it, to goggle some word or title that brings them here.  They are most welcome.

                                          I walk the bygone streets of my School Street Village 
and greet those who walked with me, who
laughed and cried with me.  I greet them with
a song of thanksgiving for all we had together.

I have tried to be the friend who remembered
for those who've memories have failed and for
those gone ahead of me.

Saturday, June 18, 2016


In the last post  I posted incredible photographs from  Camp Myles Standish including group photographs of the switchboard operators at the Camp in1943.  I had no idea that anyone could possibly be recognized!  Our incredible Arlene Gouveia did just that and identified Mary Pina from School Street in the Village: third row up 7th from the left. A wonderful way to link the Village with the Camp and the woman we were writing about in that last post, Jacqueline Tremblay. The photograph was sent to us by Jacqueline's daughter, Melanie Capriotti. 
A shared heritage from mother to daughter.

If I am not mistaken the Pina family were neighbors of my Souza grandparents at 184 School St.
When my grandfather died tragically in a boating accident in 1927, my grandmother was
caring for a neighbor, Mrs. Pina , who had just given birth.  Connections, connections.....

Below is another fascinating follow-up. Kudos to the Internet, it can bring great good not just great harm.  But, it is the researcher's best friend.  Remember the posts about the baby spoon marked Mount Hope Hospital found in Brazil?

  Well, this is not so involved but still amazing.  In the past few weeks I received an e-mail from someone in Perth Australia who was trying to date this photo of the New York Lace Store circa 1800's.  This was a new one on me, I had never seen it or realized that the store had been located somewhere other than on Main St. next to J.M. Wells or prior to that in the Whittenton. Below is the link to my original post.

The researcher was actually looking for information about the photographer
upstairs in this photo: C.L. Fearnside. 

I sent out an info request on I'm From Taunton's Facebook page and found this 
out for our Aussie fellow historian.

I also sent the link to the post on Vintage Photographers I had done as well.

It is grand that people around the world can link into the history
of the Village where I grew up.  It means the Village and its
people will live long in this blog, and not be forgotten.

Saturday, April 9, 2016


In 2013 I wrote a series of posts about Camp Myles Standish, an embarkation depot and P.O.W Camp in Taunton during World War II.  The coming of the Camp saw the "war came to Taunton." Using eminent domain 1600 acres of farmland were taken from their owners to serve the war effort.

A large part of the research and writing of my previous posts in 2013 was the romance and wedding of my Aunt Alveda and her husband Ziggy Napieralski, he a soldier in WW II and she a native of the Village in Taunton.They were married the year after the War ended in the Village in Taunton.

 This  post will tell you more about the Camp in those years and add yet nother romance to its history. To set the stage, you can find my earlier post at this link:
              There are 5 posts following this one (newer posts) all related to this story.

The post I am writing today was occasioned by Melanie Capriotti whose mother, Jacqueline, (nee Tremblay) had been a telephone operator at Camp Miles Standish and who had met her future husband in Taunton.  Meeting the daughter of that mother and collaborating with researching the subject was a fine experience and the way I love to write my posts. Knowing that her mother, in her 90's, would read and relive it is a joy.  Jacqueline was born  at home in Arlington, MA, 6th of 8 children. She graduated from Arlington High School in 1943.

In this case, we are not speaking of a Tauntonian or a Villager. We are actually speaking of a temporary Tauntonian, one who lived in Taunton in some of its most fascinating years. The young woman who came to Taunton during the war years was hired to be a telephone operator at the camp.

Many of us can remember the 40's when telephone operators worked like these women below in 1943, manually plugging in caller to caller.  Imagine the size and importance of the switchboard at a large military camp and its importance.

Those young women would have been carefully vetted for that task, We are certain the gal whose story we tell here was as well.

                I introduce you to Jacqueline Tremblay, this is her 1943 high school photograph.'Jacqueline was born at home in Arlington, Main March of 1925, 6th of 8 children.  She graduated from Arlington High School in 1943. Below is her high school graduation photograph.

Jacqueline's story as told to her daughter breathes new life into what we know about Camp Miles Standish during the war years with a totally new aspect of those who served and worked there.

Like my Aunt Alveda and Uncle Ziggy, Jaqueline met her husband, George in Taunton. They
actually met on Taunton Green where each weekend there were band performances.

This is George's 1941 high school graduation photograph. George was born in nearby
Fall River, MA. in 1923, graduating from Durfee High School in 1941.  
He passed away in 1946 in 
Seeking, MA.

Below is their engagement photo. George Mycock did not work at the Camp.
He was from Freetown/Assonet often going to Taunton with his buddies. That is how he and Jaqueline met. If she had not been working at the Camp, destiny would not have had its way. .George was 4F due to flat feet and a perforated eardrum.When he went to Canada on a family trip, he
wrote to his lady each day. She still has them.

Imagine all the other young couples who met at that Camp or its environs in those years..
It was a huge military complex and occasioned many visitors also
to the city of Taunton.  Young people love meeting other young people.

Many of the young women coming to work at the Camp stayed with relatives or with those who would accept a boarder.  Jaqueline was housed with the Widow Babbitt who was very particular as to the girls she accepted to board with her.  Mrs. Babbitt lived at 5 Summer St. in Taunton.
Jaqueline recalls that she got along very well with her landlady and tells us that she would wash Jaqueline's hair for her and they would talk for hours. 

 Jaqueline also remembers her incredulity that they were allowed go to any restaurants in town and order whatever they wanted, just sign the check and it was paid for.  Coming from a poor Irish family that was a quite a treat.  She said that they were allowed to go to the the Officer's Club for dances but not allowed to go to the Enlisted Club. They were careful and watchful of the girls providing bus service to and from the Club.  They were expressly forbidden from accepting rides from the men stationed there at the Camp.

The photograph below is of all of the switchboard operators at
Camp Myles Standish in 1943. It is a precious momento of  the young women who
worked the switchboards at the Camp and kept it functioning smoothly. Some were from Taunton, others came from other places to gain valuable experience in this field. Women were a vital part of the war effort, as we know from such stories as Rosie the Riveter. They freed up the men for
combat in Europe and elsewhere.

                      Did the best I could in enlarging the left side of the above photo....perhaps it will
be easier with your magnifying glass...

                                                      Right sided photo enlargement

Hard for us, in this digital age, to think about telephone operators of the "old Days" and their role in peace and in war.

Communication at all times is paramount to keep a society running in an orderly manner. It is even more important in wartime. In researching this post, I came upon an obituary of another telephone operator in those war years: Margaret P. Stewart, age 90 years, a native of Haverhill, MA. During WWII Margaret served as a telephone operator at Camp Edwards, Otis Air Force Base and Camp Miles Standish. She was then employed for 36 years by New England Telephone Com. She was a member of the telephone pioneers of America. She may even be in the above photo.

Below is our gal with other switchboard operators at the camp. She is third from the right in the first row. Next to her was a good friend, Synnove Strom on her left.  Synnove was from Norway and returned there not long after they all left the camp when the war was over.

Each time we receive another bit of the history of Camp Miles Standish, we build upon that fascinating period of history in Taunton. When the story is a personal one, it makes it even more interesting.  I am hoping that some of our readers will be able to add to this, perhaps recognizing someone from the photos or adding another story.

When we dip into a bit of history, like following the the crumbs left by Hansel and Grettal we are led to so much more history.  That is what happened to this post. It opened many doors. I invite you to peek into more history by perusing the links provided at the end of this post. They add to our knowledge of that time.  I also include a link to the Telephone Pioneers of America and the Hello Ladies of World War I. I  found it a wonderful read.

      I thank Melanie Capriotti and her mother, Jaqueline Mycock for sharing memories with us.

*This is a very interesting video about more details of Camp Myles Standish Military Base.

This site has the above video but with the text.

History of Telephone Operators

The Hello Girls of WW I-Telephone operators in the military - a terrific read!,_a_Volunteer_Network

Friday, March 11, 2016


A common problem with historians and collectors of documents and photographs is organization. It is a continual struggle to place items where they belong and can be found at a later date.  Sometimes I win on this, and sometimes I lose.  Such is the happenstance with this wonderful photograph of the fifth grade 1946 Class at Fuller School below.  I had misplaced it and thus it did not get its rightful placement in the last post.

Fuller School Fifth Grade Class of 1946

 The accompanying roster of names includes the teacher who was before my time.  Her name: Mynette Briody Dewhurst. She was the morning teacher going between Fuller and School Street School.  School Street School was way up the top of School St. near downtown (there is an oxymoron for you...up downtown.)She also, the article states, taught many years at Cohannet School in Taunton.

A found photograph  and new thoughts to add to our story of the Children of the Village.

A Fuller School and Village classmate of mine, Cynthia, found this bit of paper among her things.  A child's writing in shaky cursive learning that good deeds can come from that little wooden schoolhouse.  A positive beautiful sentiment.  There are so many thoughtful aspirations that we often forgotten by too many in this contentious day and age. Lined paper, handwritten painstakingly - the good deeds written over as if to emphasize.

                                    This puts all our class photos in a time context
                                         of  a simpler, kinder, more honorable day. 

The year 1946 saw peace after WW II.  Looking at the clothes of the children, you see a higher brand of clothing and a general sense of contentment on the faces of each child . Everything was starting over. The economy was booming: a gallon of gas cost 15 cents, the average house price was $1, 459.  Tupperware was introduced and selling in hardware and department stores.

There are many familiar faces for me here.  These children were about 5 years older than I.
A cousin, Beverly, and the young Donny Rose we saw earlier in his First Communion photograph are pictured.  The youngster in the second row first on the left is the daughter of a dear friend of my Aunt Eleanor and I remember the Riendeau family very well. I remember Linda Rapoza well as she was the sister of one of my classmates.  Ronald Almeida I knew as his parents owned the three decker we lived in when my parents were first married where I and my sister came home to after we were born at Morton Hospital. We all looked up to these children, they seemed so much more sophisticated. Elaine Baptiste up in the fourth row middle was the subject of another post and hopefully we will tell more of her story.

It was an exciting post war time, and optimism prevailed...the hope that there would never be such a war again.

The bikini went on sale in Paris. This was the year, Donald Trump was born...connecting the dots to today. There were International War Crimes tribunals in Nuremberg and in Tokyo. The U.S. started testing the atomic bomb on Bikini Atoli. 

This was the time when these children started their schooling and went sailing into their lives. 

As the War ended, it did so with the bombing of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. A story from Japan told of a little girl who developed leukemia from the radiation.  She set out to make 1,000 paper cranes to try to counteract her disease.  She made 650 before she died, her classmates made the rest and brought them to her funeral. The war was over but nightmares for children would not be....or for adults for that matter. War leaves unsettled questions in its wake. Slowly more stories would emerge, of the Ghettos, of heroism, of tragedy like that of Anne Frank.

Still, America was settling in with enthusiasm and vigor and that was contagious. All seemed well.

There was much on the horizon.  Unbelievable advances in medicine, such as the polio vaccine. The children above and their parents would have been very aware of the danger of contracting that dreaded disease. (Read this post to find out how a Tauntonian was at the center of combating that disease on a national and international level:  This was an eye opener for me.

Today we are tech savvy and I can write a blog like this with the ease of research that a computer allows, restoring vintage photographs and so much more.

Yet, with it all, we are so in danger of forgetting the values of family, friendship.

It is good to look back, to ponder the things that we learned, that we held dear
for it teaches us about today.

In closing:

This morning I read an article in the newspaper (Last Guy Chosen for Stickball) by the great writer, Herman Wouk (Winds of War, Marjorie Morningstar and many other books) who has turned 100 years of age.  He was born in Bronx in New York and in this little bit of an essay he wrote...

"I was an Aldus Street boy, and that was the end of it. I had no idea there was 
something like Park Avenue or Manhattan that might be better. I was happy 
where I was and loved being alive. My mother and father - Esther and Abraham-were 
old fashioned loving parents, and I'd bring that feeling down to the streets and my friends."

Thank you, Mr. Wouk for putting it so well.

Friday, February 12, 2016


My memories of the School Street Village are wrapped in my childhood days.
Previously, on many posts I shared some of the photos of those times and earlier.  Laced together they form a timeline of Village histories highlighted in its children.  I recently read a Facebook post which said that "children are a wonderful way to start people." Children grew our Village. If one could hear echoes from as far back as the early 1900's the song on the wind would be children's laughter.  Bright and eager, let's put them in the context of their times.

This is my oldest photograph of my paternal Souza family.  My Uncle Joe is the oldest on the right and I can date this to about 1914 as he was born in 1909.  The little girl is my Aunt Mary Souza later Bernadino. I love that she is grasping her precious pocketbook like someone is trying to take it from her. The little boy on the left is my Uncle John Souza.  

These children played the Village sidewalks just as I did and the back yards and fields, too. We just dressed differently.  They grew up at 184 School St. where I spent many years of my childhood in the 50's  Strange to think we played in the same room , these children who would be parents of my cousins and friends years onward.

The year this vintage photograph, 1914, there was the first ever Mother's Day. Wrigley Field opened in Chicago and Babe Ruth was signed by the Red Sox.  Charlie Chaplin appeared in his first film and Tarzan of the Apes was published.  

Most significantly, World War I began.  

This next photo is a treasure from the annals of Fuller School photos.  Fuller School, you may have read when I started this blog, is where I and decades of Village Children went to school.  It was a two story wooden building smack in the middle of the Village, where it's heart would be. Though I have showed this photo before, it never hurts to show it again. Fuller School was demolished in the 1960's and a sigh could be heart throughout the Village and probably beyond.

Every group photo throughout the years would take place on those wooden front steps. It would be grand to have more photos of the classes. However, we are fortunate to have what we have.

At Fuller School over the years dear teachers, all women, lovingly taught us and cared for each of us. Within the next photo is our beloved family physician, mothers of my playmates and more. A well known piano teacher is here, too. Fuller School received its name in 1909. It was in those first years of the 1900's that Portuguese immigrants would be moving to the Village. among them my paternal grandparents.

See the clothes in this photo below?  It is clearly winter as one can tell from the obviously handmade hats. Hats- mothers way of sealing their love and warmth in those children. Grandmother's and Aunt's way of reminding little ones of a family love that sought to protect.  They all had reasons for keeping these children warm. A horrific Spanish Influenze made its way through the world seeking the most vulnerable during that time.Thankfully, it seems the Village was not terribly touched.  Perhaps Avos.or Portuguese grandmothers had their own medicinal treasures to protect beloved children as well as young adults. Imagine, cold and flu seasons without Kleenex- that would not be invented until 1950!

The rest of their clothing: long leggings or long johns, high laced boots
similar to the ones worn by the children in our first photo complete their ensemble.

There was a little one room building in the back of the main school where children who only spoke Portuguese could learn English so that they could catch up with their classmates.  My mother went there. here is her photo at age 9 so this is around 1925. She perhaps saw her future husband, by father, playing in the schoolyard....   A little girl who would face a lot more in her young life than the inability to speak English.  Like many children brought up in another language her lack of English hid a sharp and talented mind. Our Mom lived in the Village for awhile. My parents and my paternal siblings all went to Fuller School.When she married my Dad she returned once more to the Village.

In the 1920's Amelia Earhart made her first flight just as these children were making their way through their childhoods.

In 1929 Herbert Hoover was elected President and in 1929 the lives of the children above and their families would change dramatically as the Stock Market crashed.

A new app called Desktop Pixr has allowed me to restore this third grade 1929 photograph much more than when I initially showed it. This Class photo was taken on the occasion of the Fuller School class winning a music award that year: First Place in a city-wide competition. The students are: (first row from left) Arthur Alves, Louis Carvalho, Evelyn Dias, Hilda Costa, Mary Camara, Zelmira D'Arruda, Alce Braga; second row (L to R)  Edward Coute, Anthony Costa, Lillian Duarte, Joseph Mendes, Elsie Furtardo, Mary Costa, Augusta Agrella, Catherine Foster, third row (L to R)  Adeline DeMello, Francis Thadeio, Alexander Taylor, Aurelio Santos, Arthur Amaral, George Abreau, Anthony Pinto and back row (L to R) George Texeira, Arthur Furtardo, Gabriel Texeira, Anthony Rebello, Mary ventura, Delores Agrella, Alveda Braga and Hilda Dias.

I recognize so many names, for they were the adults of the Village during my childhood. Their parents would struggle to make ends meet during dark economic times. They would have given thanks for the closeness and support of their Village does take a Village when times for all are so difficult.

                         Photo taken Monday, December 8, 1941 the day after Pearl Harbor.

Speaking of harder times still ahead.  Here we are in 1941.  Above  is the class of Arlene Rose Gouvia second in the first row from the left. On a winter December 7th these children and their parents would be stunned by the news that Japan had bombed Pearl Harbor. Arlene remembers that she and her classmates were deeply troubled and afraid. Their third grade teacher,Miss Marguerite Hoye (who would in the 50's be MY third grade teacher)  would help to calm them while they learned their lessons. More children and adult frightening scenarios would make their way to the public when news of the Manhattan Project came out toward the end of the war.  The class photo above was taken on Monday, Dec.7, 1941.

Children in the photo: front row L to R-Lorraine Ferreira, Arlene Rose, Lorraine King, Robert Gouveia, James Pine, Second row: Alice Rugg.  Norma Gouveia, Loretta King, Natalie Torres, Charles Leanard, David Rosse, Third row: Catherine Duarte, Mariano Amaral, Elizabeth Jacinto, Jeremiah Raposa, Leo Perry, Joan Fontes, Raymond De Thomas and back row: Evelyn Torres, Virginia Sanson, Carol Rose, Jeanette Lopes, John Andrews, Margaret Soares and Gilbert DeMello.

       The next class photo we have is this one, First Grade in 1946. I am not here as I went to a kindergarten/first grade school that year and then joined this group in the second grade. The color of the film here reminds one of the Little Rascals and other movies we watching Saturday afternoon. But, the future would be changing far ahead into the future for children and everyone....the first computer was built in 1941.  There was a lot of easier breathing for everyone in 1946, for the second World War had ended the year before.

Who knows where the next two years of class photos went the 
next is my fourth grade class at Fuller.
There is one little girl here, to my left, whose family left for 
California either this year or the next. 
We were very good friends...imagine that through this blog 
we met again and reignited that old friendship!

Coming almost full circle in the following photograph. Some of the children seen above can be  recognized all grown up in this one of my THS class reunion photo. Some of us still lived in the Village, some in Taunton, others far away.

Most of us went from Fuller to Cohannet School just past downtown Taunton for grades 6-8 and then on to Taunton High School about a mile away. Our journeys in life took us along different roads, some roads converged back again to Taunton. Always our group of children then adults kept track of other's paths the best we could. Many of us cannot make the general reunions so there are regional reunions, as we have in Florida and the west coast.

      This photo of the 2014 regional THS "57 reunion in Ponta Gorda, Florida
 includes two Village gals...

It has been a virtual trip down Memory Lane with these photos.  Many of the children we grew up with are no longer with us....but live in our hearts.

Life is a journey. Ours started in a very special place, so special that those we met there, who loved us then and love us now still inspire and comfort us. There is still laughter when sone of us meet even though our senior years can be full of pain and loss. I have ever been and will always be deeply thankful for the School Street Village, for its friendships, its life lessons and the energy to keep on the journey of life with courage.