THE VILLAGE VARIETIES...

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.

LITTLE MARKETS AND THEN SOME....

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!  

                                                     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.