David X. Sheehan
I write my memories, family, school, jobs, fatherhood, friendship, serious and silly. I read Vocal authors, and am humbled by most. I'm 74, in Thomaston, Maine, Any, tips will be donated to Camp Jabberwocky on Martha's Vineyard, MA.
Here Come the Sun
The times of the late 1950’s to the end of the 1960’s interwoven with my friends and family input my memory files with treasures that some may never know, they were mixed in a giant melting-pot called school. In 1965, June 17th to be exact, I graduated from West Bridgewater High School.
I'll Be Seeing You
My parents (Mama and Papa) were opposites that attracted, something that doesn’t always work for everyone. Married in post WWII Portland, Maine in 1946, they had a boy (me) in 1947 and another boy (Chris) in 1948. Papa took an electronics job with Stromberg-Carlson and proceeded over the next 5 years or so to do the job, with hundreds of others, of building local telephone offices throughout the Southwest and South. During this period, Chris and I had time to have Diphtheria while in Jefferson City, Missouri and Chris to have his tonsils removed in Hobbs, New Mexico as well as a couple of operations to correct his eyes. The four of us lived in 37 states for short durations until I was old enough to go to school. A month of first grade in Oneonta, Alabama and two months in Tampa, Florida, before Mrs. Nelson’s class, in 1953, at Sunset Avenue School, in West Bridgewater, MA. the place my heart will always call home.
Boyhood Bathroom Blues
Today has begun with the weirdest weather since my move to Florida. I get up early most days and always look out the window to try and get a quick view of what to expect and decide which tee shirt goes best with my cut-off jeans. I looked out this morning and could not see a thing. Visibility zero with the thickest fog I’ve ever seen. I could hear traffic 10 to 12 feet from our front porch but could not see headlights or those super bright school bus flashers.
Wayback or Now
I was recently asked, if I could go back into the past, would I change anything? At first, I thought that was an easy question and figured I could produce some clever twisting of words or a memory or two that could have gone in a different direction. However, what seemed like a simple straight forward request has dominated my thoughts for over a week. Sure, it would have been easier to have made myself 6 foot 4 inches and to not have flat feet, oh baby, to jam in a rebound against an East Bridgewater Viking or Bridgewater-Raynham Trojan; to be numbered among the greats at Westies High; or maybe to have had the clothes and toys and cars and things that many others had; or to have been ballsy enough to tell girls what I really thought of them; maybe to have gone to college and become the English teacher/basketball coach I thought would be so fulfilling.
Rest In Peace, Sweet Camelot
THE HURRICANE "In the 1940’s many US distilleries were used to manufacture necessities for war time, and domestic liquor was scarce. However, Rum coming up the Mississippi river from the Caribbean islands was plentiful. In order to buy a case of Bourbon, for example, there was strong incentive to purchase large quantities of rum. With General manager George Oechsner Jr at the helm, the folks in the bar experimented with recipes, and eventually everyone agreed that passion fruit was a hit! A glass shaped like a hurricane lamp was the perfect vessel and the Hurricane drink became New Orleans favorite libation."
First Face I Ever Saw
Missing my mother today, and remembering what a wonderful impact she made on me and my siblings and so many people. Willa Anne (Tibbetts) Sheehan, born in Lawrence, Massachusetts, on July 30th 1926. Mama passed on this date 11/11/1980. Clearly, I loved her, I write about her a lot, and I feel her spirit is in some, if not all, of my work.