Raising a family in the 1950’s was not like what it is today. In the summer or the weekends we kids would all feed ourselves breakfast, go out in the morning, play, and be back by dark or dinner time, which ever came first. In almost all cases my parents had no idea where we were and what we were doing. They weren’t considered bad parents, it was just the way many adults parented in those days. Even after school, it was every man for himself until dinner. Regarding discipline, both parents practiced spanking as a last resort if yelling didn’t work. We used to act upset when Mom slapped our behinds, but when Dad was on spanking duty, we started screaming before he laid a hand on us. The ex-Marine did not hold back. Even our teachers were allowed to hit us if they saw a need. I recall several times seeing my classmates getting slapped hard on the arm by an angry teacher’s ruler. Mom was not a fussy, fastidious, or overly protective parent. I remember getting off the bus once with Johnny Page who had a great idea. He said, “let’s soil the knees of our pants so we don’t have to change. That way we can play right away.” So we ground our knees on some freshly cut grass, and he ran inside to his mother and told her he got dirty on the playground and she gave him permission to go out and play without changing or washing up. Jubilant now, he rushed back outside to tell me the plan worked perfectly and encouraged me to try it on my mother. I knew of course, Mom never asked me to change or wash up after school. In fact I didn’t know what “wash up” meant. But I didn’t want to rain on his parade because he looked so wildly excited by his devious brain child, so we went anyway. I ran inside, with him within earshot right outside the door, and said, “Hey Mom, I got dirty on the playground, I don’t need to change do I?” She looked at me like I was some sort of alien child and managed to say while shaking her head, “only if you want to.” I said, “great.” Johnny’s eyes popped with anticipation as he asked, “Did it work.” “You bet!” To Johnny it was a perfect crime, to me is was a way I could make Johnny feel good about himself. After all, what are friends for?
Because we lived in the country, there was no end to the possible ways we could’ve killed ourselves. There was a dump and a number of junk cars on our property, rattle snakes, mountain lions, granite quarries, ponds, tall trees, a major road, poison ivy, abandoned houses, wells, roaming dogs, and a any number of crazy in-bred neighbors and hobos. At the same time there was an abundance of nature that I really appreciated: blueberry bushes, apple, pear, and peach trees, wild roses, and lilacs. But the thing I remember most was the change of seasons. In New England it was a vivid and striking transformation. Snow was on the ground the entire winter season, followed by a rainy, relatively short spring, and a warm summer. The fall in New England was my favorite. The sharp lighting boosted the color saturation of the world, making the changing leaves more orange, the grass greener, the sky bluer. And when you add the smell of burning leaves, I am back there in Upton walking down Wood Street with Johnny Page, ready to play.

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