More Summer Memories and Thoughts....

Summer seemed endless in the days of our youth.
Previously, we mentioned the smell of freshly mown grass

taking us back to those summers.  But, the one that does it for me....whoosh...
is the aroma that pine needles give off baking in the sun.
They take me to one place: Myles Standish State Park.
 For our family, and many other Tauntonians, this was a favorite day trip.
 Like Swift's Beach, it was an easy drive and little to no traffic.
 It offered safe swimming in the ponds and easy children-

viewing by parents nesting in the pine groves.

The State Park is in Carver, MA and consists of 14,635 acres of pitchpine forest, the largest such north of Long Island.  No wonder it gave off such a wondrous scent 

and so imbedded itself in my memory.

It is ecologically significant as it has 16 "kettle" pond left over from 

melting glaciers 12,000 years ago. Who knew they flowed in and out 

of the surrounding aquifer 

 giving you the fresh water in which you swam?

What did we know....we kids splashing into the calm pond waters?  We knew it was hot and we were at one of our favorite spots.   Our family often had mini-reunions there.  Our parents, aunts, uncles and cousins loaded up with picnic stuff from the cars and trotted down to a site we could adopt for the day.  Chairs were unfolded, tables set with vinyl tablecloths. 

We were there til sunset when

we would be called in from the water by both the smell 

of hotdogs and hamburgers and

 the beckoning voices of parents at water's edge.

Often the trip would include stopping at nearby Edaville Railroad in Carver. It was a chance to take a train ride through the deep red cranberry bogs.  In those bygone days, most family members were close by and such excursions were more common.  Today, it would be a major endeavor to gather us  from 

all over the country.  There is also one child here not a cousin, but who was brought along anyway.  This would happen often with one or another neighborhood child.  

After all, we were a Village....

Ah, days gone by.  When it got hot, you turned on a fan or gathered together to go off to a pond like this where memories were made. 

 Of all the seasons summer seems to evoke the most memories.

Those summers were spent in the raw sweltering arms of Mother Nature. 

 Home air conditioners were rare.  You loved it when a thunderstorm broke the heat.

You ran in the heat....all day and into the evening.  You drank when you were thirsty.

You swam 'til you were tired out.  You learned how to swim pretty quick.

You laughed and giggled.  

You learned the art of interrelationships with brothers and sisters, and cousin

buddies without reading a book.  

 Everyone in your class was your buddy, too, as were all the kids in the Village.

 You read....a lot, and loved it.  From there you learned 

a vocabulary, you learned history and geography.  

You learned from storytelling when we families gathered at times like these

at  Myles Standish as the parents relayed experiences

 and family stories.  You listened and appreciated. You learned the art

of storytelling yourselves.

You absorbed.  You were used to prayer in public places as was everyone. 

 It was another time,

far, far removed in so many ways, 

yet right nearby. Those times still offer us

the values, the mores, the traditions we so need in these

confusing days we live in.  If we seek quiet more often,

perhaps their lessons would comfort us in times like these.

Remembering our group wanderings, out of parents views in the neighborhood

 I recently came upon this quote:

"Hypercaution has saved lives, but it has diminished lives in the bargain." 

                      

Seems that there was less worrying then, more living.....

Summers in the Village: Post II: Cloud Gazing and Other Activities

Simpler pleasures of childhood days back in the Village.  Life in your backyard and everyone else's, too, was uncomplicated, at least for us children.

In the 50's in the Village summer activities included drowsily lying on a blanket on a hot summer day. Only thing to do was look for cloud pictures and daydream.  Dream about what
wonders you would do as an adult.

This, of course, after household chores were done.

                                                                   One of my Mom's photos 

Cloud watching might be accompanied by the drone of bees visiting the honeysuckle.  No loud boom boxes then.  The most you might hear was the push lawnmower chewing up

the grass with the help of a Dad or a brother. 

You might also hear the ccrrraackkk of a wooden bat colliding with a baseball as some boys got a

pickup baseball game going nearby.  Totally spontaneous, the boys in the Village 

homed in on it like ants at a picnic. 

Way back "in the day" Arlene Gouveia tells us that a group of neighborhood

girls formed their own baseball team. Ahead of Title IX they played at what was then

called the Winter St. Playground, land near Ventura's Grain on

Longmeadow Road.  So we will pretend there is a ponytail hidden under this cap. these
girls who were 

The Village version of a League of Their Own.

By all accounts they were quite good. Emma Andrade

and Mary Medeiros Veira Fontes were members, Mary being the catcher.

(Emma Andrare and Leo De Mello shared this with Arlene).

Precious is the time now when one can manage to sit under a shady tree (or grapevine more often in those days) letting thoughts roam where they would. You might then have also heard the soothing cluck-cluck of chickens in the next yard chicken coop as they scratched the dirt looking for food.

In the time before air conditioning the outside was the coolest place to be.  People learned to minimize activities during the hottest part of the day.  Grandmothers could be seen fanning themselves on front porches.  Laundry hung lazily in the heat, hardly moving in the rare breeze.  In the house you learned to find air flows, opening as many windows as possible with a portable screen that slid open and shut.  Babies were bathed in kitchen sinks to cool

them off. Then dressed only in diapers (cloth)  they were placed 

in their carriages in the shade with

a net over the opening to keep bugs out.  

Then, everyone for an afternoon nap!

 One of the cooling treats - besides the coming of the Ice Cream truck-

 was  Mom's chilled homemade root beer.   

I can still taste those root beer floats....root beer with vanilla ice cream.

My Mom made root beer from scratch every year.  There was big excitement

one summer as somehow, in the heat, the capped bottles started to explode, one by one.  What a racket, and what a frothy mess!!  Back then one did not think violence or terrorism,
 today we would all hit the floor!

                                                                Ah, simpler days.

               Just a treat to lull you if you are fortunate to be lazing on a summer day....  or not. 

I find myself listening to it over and over.  Thanks Van Morrison.

A VILLAGE FOURTH OF JULY

               A happy Fourth of July to all !!

This post is harkening back to the Fourths we celebrated when I was a kid in the Village.  Here is a photo from 1947, just as a reminder.  I call it the Watermelon Brigade.  

Sure looks like we were enjoying it!

Cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents- everyone in extended families gathered in the ritual of the Fourth.  One or another backyard was the venue.
No need for fancy; simple and tasty did just fine.

Every yard had a backyard fireplace with grills cemented in place.  It cooked hot dogs and hamburgers perfectly.  This was way before you needed a degree in grilling to handle a souped up stainless steel gas grille with surgical cooking tools.

 The photo below is of one of our family Fourths in 1950, before we

moved to School St.  Note the car in the background if you doubt the year. A Packard, maybe?  All the Moms cooked beforehand: special potato salad, deserts like home made apple pie and cookies, corn on the cob .  All washed down with punch for the kids and beer for the parents. Later, over the waning fire, we kids would toast marshmellows.

                          Kids all at one table, for the most part, which was fine with us.

Later, at dusk, we would have the fun of running in the dimming light with sparklers.  I do not recall many firework excursions.
The Dads may have stockpiled a few to make the night more exciting.

After all, we had the walk later down to the Corner when it was dark for the bonfire, which was all the excitement we needed to cap off the night. An annual event not to be missed. It did not last long, as the police were always called and made sure of that.

But, before that.... 

Nightfall. Kids chased each other around the yard.  Storytelling by the parents began accompanied by one-up-man-ships by this or that relative.  We did not realize it then, but the history of our parents were spinning around us like the fireflies we tried to catch. There was laughter by the grownups which warmed the hearts of the children, like me.

All of it was warm and good.  

It felt so at the time and it still does today.