Summer Memories from 2013

In 2013, I took a trip from my place at Fort Myers Beach, Florida to spend the summer in Brattleboro, Vermont. I would stay a couple of months with my sister Pat and her husband Conrad. They were about to open a B&B called The One Cat. Pat had spent many many years in England, and she and Conrad, got a good deal on the house, after deciding to return to the USA; it was a good chance to catch up with each other. The idea was for me to get away from the high temperatures in a hot Florida, and spend some time in a more mountainous atmosphere where the summers were cooler. (WRONG) The summer of 2013 in Brattleboro, Vermont had a couple of weeks, when the temps, even at night, did not fall below 90 degrees.

I had been on a diet, with walking as the exercise piece, and if nothing else, Brattleboro provided me with several Everests that the, then, 66 years old me, with COPD needed, but struggled with for sure. I started with a walk down to the Brattleboro Food Co-op, shopping a terrific number of organic items from produce to cheese to fresh meats. The return to The One Cat on Clark Street, was uphill, not far, but I’d have to stop several times to catch my breath. I leaned against telephone poles or a stone wall, anything I could find. If anyone asked if I was OK, I’d say yes, that I was just waiting for my Sherpa to carry my 20 tons of groceries up the hill, did I mention UP the hill? It would be and hour round trip for me, minus the shopping time. At the end of summer, I was climbing uphill to the Price Chopper’s Market, exactly one mile from the house, and nearly tumbling downhill in half an hour. It was good for my health, and I felt well, for the first time in a long time.

My plan was to stay in Brattleboro until the middle of September, then I would spend the rest of my extended vacation in my home town, West Bridgewater, Massachusetts. I would stay at my daughter, Kathleen’s, home on South Street. From here, I could attend the first meetings of the class of 1965’ 50th Reunion, and also a Millennial Reunion meeting, which would include West Bridgewater classes going back to the 1950’s.

The entire trip was centered around the last West Bridgewater High School football team’s last game on the old field, as the school, my school, was being torn down and a newer, better one was to be erected in its place. I was wicked excited about the West Bridgewater “Homecoming” game on September 21, 2013 and looking forward to seeing old friends no matter the weather, I hoped all present and former students, graduated or not, would show up for the celebration.

I think, so often, of little snippets from WB football, other than getting creamed by Bruce Holmquist or run over by Teddy Burber or Phil Asack. As a spectator, I remember Bobby Lovell intercepting a pass in the end zone and running it all the way back for a 100+ yard touchdown or Holbrook High trying to slow down Jim Cheyunski, by bending his cup; which while the team surrounded him, got straightened out (I swear I could hear the smithy’s hammer on anvil). I can even remember Coach Beano Barreira sending some reserve out onto the field to jump on an arm or leg that was sticking up out of a pile of tacklers. It takes tough people to play this game, and West Bridgewater certainly has had her share of them, some famous, some, not so much. I remember playing against guys like Doug Maclean, as Alta, his younger sister, has said, "Doug just loved the game". These boys/men gave all they had, the locker room always had the combined essences of drying room, blood, various liniments, sweat, jock straps, socks and the mud from the field permeated every corner, nothing that an institutional size bottle of Febreze couldn’t erase today. I walked around the bases and recalled how the field was as hard today as all those years ago, when I played. I remember watching David Baker take his turn at batting practice and how hard and far he could hit the ball; he made me a better 3rd baseman, when I played that position, more from fear than natural ability. Tommy Conniff’s fastball caused body parts to shrivel, and that was just practice; while conversely, a Wayne Dufault bender was like waiting for the Robert E. Lee to tie up to a Mississippi River dock. Eddie Carlson found the reason athletic cups were invented, when a Coach Harry Tozier practice pitch bounced off the plate and sent Ed to the locker room for a full self examination. Of course, cross country meets began and ended at WB field, ( I came in first for us just one time, against Holbrook) this field would soon be part of the next incarnation of the West Bridgewater High School building proper.

Wandering in the old school last week, I wondered if they would let groups of us roam as freely on September 21, and if they’d just leave the equipment room door ajar open long enough for us to grab a basketball or two and maybe, if we had the right shoes on (remembering the Converse canvas shoes of our day), take some shots, and push ourselves to the limit for 30 or 40 seconds. One can only dream, and as most know, I do. I pray God sees fit to give me another day to be with those who were the carpenters and sculptors of this writer. I just want a moment to flash back to the still fresh memories that each dear friend has painted, they hang in the Louvre of my mind and heart.

As I watch a large group of Canada Geese winging southward, it signifies that my time here in Vermont and Massachusetts is coming to an end, and for a moment I think about going home (but I am Home). This trip has dramatized for me that home is not only an address, but the place where you are both loved and where you love. I have had the unbelievable great good fortune of living in a lot of places and am so grateful to have enjoyed loving and being loved, in each home. Still, the Currier & Ives version beckons me to the recall, remember, and return to West Bridgewater; only God knows; for now, with each morning, a little chillier, Fort Myers Beach, the Siren of Southwest Florida sings her temptress song, and I must obey. just sayin’..Later, God willing.. Love to all..does this ramble make my ass look fat? LOL