MUSINGS ON CHRISTMASES PAST

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

         

                                                                                               123f.com

Sources:

Story of St. Francis of Assisi and the Nativity Scene
http://www.uscatholic.org/church/2012/10/who-invented-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 Amazon.com.

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

LOOK WHO HAS WRITTEN A LEGACY DOCUMENT?

                         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:

https://issuu.com/johngouveia5/docs/rose-family_document/1

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.

I BID YOU GOODBYE AND FOND MEMORIES

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.

(Pinterest)

 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.

FOLLOWING UP ON PREVIOUS POSTS....

In the last post  http://schoolstvillage.blogspot.com  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?

http://schoolstvillage.blogspot.com/2013/11/the-little-spoon-that-could.html   

  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.

http://schoolstvillage.blogspot.com/2015/01/new-york-lace-store-history-of-downtown.html

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.  http://schoolstvillage.blogspot.com/2014/04/touching-past-power-of-vintage.html

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.

TELLING A NEW TALE OF CAMP MILES STANDISH !

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:

       http://schoolstvillage.blogspot.com/2013/03/the-village-and-love-story-camp-myles.html
              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.
https://vimeo.com/128491788

This site has the above video but with the text.
http://news.wgbh.org/2016/03/25/local-news/ghosts-world-war-2-pows-haunt-taunton-industrial-park

History of Telephone Operators
http://www.vintag.es/2015/12/vintage-photos-show-hictory-of.html

The Hello Girls of WW I-Telephone operators in the military - a terrific read!
http://www.worldwar1.com/dbc/hello.htm

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pioneers,_a_Volunteer_Network

LET'S READ MORE ABOUT THE CHILDREN OF THE VILLAGE

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 learned...so 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:  http://schoolstvillage.blogspot.com/2013/09/post-scriptthe-historic-fight-against.html#uds-search-results).  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.