Under The Streetlights - The Grand Finale

What would you say if I took you for another nostalgic stroll down Arlington Street? You'd probably look back at me and say, "For cries sakes, Paul, can we at least take a walk down around the corner or something?" I really couldn't blame you if you did.

The first 15 years of my life were spent down on Arlington Street. After that we moved up around the corner onto Foster Street. 4 years later I graduated from Everett High and took off to Newfoundland for the better part of a year. Two years after my Newfoundland excursion, I got married and settled down in North Reading.

Moving to North Reading didn't break my association with the City of Everett by a long shot. For the next twenty years I worked as a gravedigger at the Woodlawn Cemetery. That being a six-day work week on the average, I spent the first forty years of my life in the city of Everett. Man, you talk about getting stuck in a rut, huh?

I focus so much on Arlington Street because that's where I grew up. By the time I mastered the art of riding a two-wheeler in the first grade, I was all over the city of Everett. Even still, when the daylight grew dim and the streetlights came on, Arlington Street was where I hung my hat.

Not once did I ever suspect how deeply my surroundings were embedding in my mind's eye as they unfolded all around me. I saw nothing out of the ordinary, mind you. These were just everyday things going on. It took another forty years or so before it dawned on me that these commonplace things had made such a powerful impact on who I was to become when I grew up.

We're not talking about some imaginary place located somewhere between illusion and nostalgia. We're talking about the places, and the people, and the things that played just as much of an influential role in the shaping of your character as they did mine.

You don't come here just for the nostalgia. You come here to get back in touch with your roots. This is where you belong. This is where you come from. This is what you're all about. Don't ever forget that.

What's going on in the outside world right now is so out of kilter that it's enough to drive you out of your freaking mind. That's why no matter how bad the day breaks, you need a place to come home to. You need a place to lean back, kick off your shoes, and get away from it all. And there's no place like home.

This is your home. This is not some nostalgic induced state of mind. When you come here you are surrounded by familiar people, places, and things. Everybody needs that. Yes, even you. And in your heart you know I'm right.

So now that you're here, you may as well set a spell with the rest of us and take a load off. I'll get ya a cup of coffee. We'll have a good gab for ourselves. We'll just hang out and do nothing together. We deserve that every once in a while.

Hey, you talk about familiar things? There's Charlie Johnson taking a leisurely stroll down the sidewalk across the street. He's always got a smile and a wave for anybody that crosses his path. He's just as much a fixture on this street as the streetlights and fire hydrants. Arlington Street wouldn't be Arlington Street without Charlie Johnson.

Every so often you'll hear a hearty laugh rise above the murmuring voices from the crowd of teenagers gathering around my brother Billy's Rambler American. He's got it back up on blocks again in the backyard. He blew the transmission burning rubber down at the Big Burger on the Parkway.

He keeps shooing me away every time they all bust out laughing. I can just imagine what's going on back there. Let me introduce you to a couple of these guys. You'll probably recognize some of their names. They all come from a long line of Everett families.

The two oldest guys down there are Sonny and Junior. They're brothers. I understand they're quite an item with the ladies. I'm not surprised. You'd be hard pressed to find a sharper looking and well groomed couple of guys. They come from good stock. Their mother is an absolute angel from God.

My fondest memory of Mrs. Forgione is sitting out on our back porch with her. She used to point out recognizable shapes and images in the clouds to me as they rolled by. On beautiful days like this she'd sit out in her rocker and hum pleasant tunes to herself. And of course she'd doze off every now and then.

I have this deep-rooted memory of Mrs. Forgione calling out to my mother across the back porch railing. She lived across from us up on the second floor. "Send Paul over," she'd say. "I got carried away again and cooked too much supper."

She wasn't fooling anybody. Mrs. Forgione had a heart as big as the Parlin library. That's what that was all about. I mean honestly. We all get carried away sometimes and cook a little bit more than we can handle, but how many times do you over cook so much that you could stuff an extra six people?

I'd step into her kitchen and she'd have this giant pot steaming on the stove that wafted such a heavenly aroma that it'd knock you off your feet. She'd wrap potholders around the handles and tell me to just take one step at a time. It's not as if I had a choice. That pot weighed about as much as I did.

What that woman could do with meatballs, sweet Italian sausages, and hand made raviolis is almost sinful. The gravy alone was so unbelievably thick and rich. Dipping a great big chunk of Italian bread down into that gravy and scooping up a mouthful was a dream come true. It's making my mouth water just thinking about it.

Okay, that's enough about Mrs. Forgione's cooking. It's making me hungry. Let's get back to that crowd my big brother hangs around with before I eat myself out of house and home, as my mother used to say.

Leaning up against the fence is Charlie's brother, Johnny. Johnny was one of the most easy going guys you'd ever want to meet. He had this dry wit about him that absolutely cracked me up. His style of humor reminded me of Bob Hope's notorious one liner come backs, if you know what I mean.

Then there's Arty and George. No matter how big and bad you might think you are, these are two guys you really don't want mess around with. As much as I love these guys, there is definitely a screw loose upstairs somewhere.

You could tell Arty was a little flighty by some the crazy schemes he'd dream up from time to time. And you just gotta take one look at his big brother, George, to know this is a no-go zone, let me tell ya.

Somebody once told me this crazy story about George. I have no idea if it's true or not. It supposedly happened one night when he was blowing the suds off a couple down at the Rendezvous Cafe on Ferry Street.

Some guy at the other end of the bar saw that George was packing heat so he called out to him, "Hey Pal? I'll bet you ain't got the guts to shoot me." Next thing you know George drew his piece and shot the guy. It's like I said. I have no idea how true that story is, but that does sound like something George would do.

My funniest memory of George happened one day down in Manny's Variety. His store was on the ground floor of Henry Gray's apartment building down on Ferry Street. Years later Tommy Gear bought the place and changed it to Tee Gee's sub shop.

This happened when Stanley and I were probably in the first or second grade. Believe it or not, we were stealing funny books at that age. That's what we were doing when all of the teenagers from Arlington Street came barging into the store laughing up a storm.

George was definitely three sheets to the wind. Besides that, he was dressed up in a flowered hat and a lady's sweater with two balloons stuffed in it for boobies. Manny yelled at him and told him to get out of the store. He said it was indecent to go parading around little kids dressed up like that.

George snapped back at him and told him to lighten up cuz it was only a joke. Then George turned to me and asked, "Hey Paul, are you offended by this?" As if I'm gonna say "yeah" to George - right? So naturally I said, "Nah, it doesn't bother me."

"See," George snapped back at Manny. "Paul doesn't care."

"Well I care," Manny yelled back. "Get out or I'm calling the cops."

"What are the cops gonna do? I ain't breaking the law."

Manny picked up the phone and said, "I'm warning ya. If you don't get out of here I'm calling the cops."

"You've got no sense of humor," George waived him off. He did leave. After all, George had a record longer than the Warren Commission. The last thing he needed was another run in with the law.

The only reason Stanley and I were bothered by the whole scene is because George had called Manny's attention to us. We were smack dab in the middle of stealing funny books. That really put a damper on our indiscretion, let me tell ya.

Leaning up against the car next to my brother, Billy, is his good friend, Pat. He's that muscular handsome kid with the crew cut. This kid's an awesome athlete, and a perfect gentleman in every true sense of the word.

The girls go crazy over this kid when he comes walking down the street. He's got somewhat of an air about him that even the grownups respect. Good things are coming this kid's way. You mark my words.

And that's Jackie sitting over there on top of that trashcan. He lives right downstairs from us. He's kind of a smooth operator in his own right. He plays a mean electric guitar. I do know that.

Even to this day Jacky tells the story about the day my mother frightened the living daylights out of him. He's a few years older than my brother, Billy. On this one particular day when Billy was about kindergarten age, he came running up into the house crying because Jacky wouldn't let him play out on the sidewalk.

My mother looked out the window and saw Jacky leaning up against the brick wall across the street so she took off after him like a bat out of hell. Jacky said, "your mother grabbed a hold of the collar of my shirt and picked me right up off the ground. She put her fist up to my face and yelled, "You son of a bitch. If you ever so much as go near any one of my kids again I'll knock every one of your teeth down your throat."

Jacky laughs about that now. "Can you imagine a skinny little kid like me picking on a big gorilla like Billy? Of course, Billy wasn't a big gorilla when Jacky picked on him. He was just a little kid. That sure changed in no time flat.

Then there's little Mikey. We call him "little" because he's sixteen years old and he's no taller than I was in the second grade. All of the grownups do a double take whenever they see this "little" kid striking up a Winston behind the wheel of a car. Mikey's an excellent kid. He lives up the projects behind Glendale Park, but he hangs around here so much that he's considered part of the neighborhood.

The same goes for Donny. No, he's not little by any stretch of the imagination. He lives down around the Malden Street area somewhere, but he's always out on my front steps. In so many ways Donny reminds me of the "Fonze" on "Happy Days." You know the type. He's constantly slicking his hair back and always wears a tee shirt with a pack of Luckies rolled up in the sleeve under a black leather jacket.

Man, I could tell ya a hundred and one funny stories about Donny. He was still in the sixth grade when I got there. I think Donny and Beaver were in stiff competition as to who could stay back the most. It would be interesting to find out who eventually won out in the end.

There were many other kids in with that crowd, for sure, but that's a good sampling of some of the bigger kids who hung out with my brother. Those are the ones who come to mind when I sit here reminiscing about summer days gone by down on Arlington Street. We'll back away from these guys for now and let the scenery change.

Time is running out on our summer vacation. One by one we're being plucked off the sidewalks after supper by our mothers to go shopping for school clothes. Why do we have to wear a tie to school anyway? That's what I'd like to know.

This is probably our last night of playing "hide-and-go-seek" under the streetlights. That heat wave finally broke and my mother wants us to start getting used to coming in early again for when school starts. We've got the Labor Day weekend coming up. It's all down hill after that.

So what do ya say we get back to our game? There's a lot of kids I still haven't found yet. Man, I never realized how many kids grew up in Everett. If we all banded together we could start our own political party. We could call it the "Vargis" party. And as they say, "Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their party." I remember my sister having to type that out a hundred times or more for her typing class up at Everett High.

Okay, enough chatter already. Let's play.

"Three - two- one - zero, ready or not, here I come."

I'm gonna swing by the corner of Ferry and Woodward to see if I can spot Dale. I haven't seen him in ages. What a great kid he was. His mind could soak up information like a sponge. And he had a smile about him that absolutely radiated. Dale graduated with me. Let's go find him.

Them I'm gonna swing by the corner of Ferry and Shute to try to find Elly. She's probably still reading her cherished Everett newspaper that celebrates Everett's first 100 years. And by the way, has anybody seen Jerry in their travels? I can't find that kid anywhere. I know he lived down on Oliver before they moved to Gilmore Street. If you see him tell him I'm looking for him.

You're not gonna believe this, but if you're looking for Johnny K, he's still over at the 1964 Chelsea High junior prom. Now there's a romantic at heart if there ever was one. Oh yeah, and I still haven't found Linda from Irving Street yet, either. Her mother worked at Whitehill Pharmacy on the corner of Ferry and Nichols for years. I'll probably find her there.

Before I forget, I've got to get back up to Russell Street to find Mark. I better tread lightly, tho. This kid's scared to death of hippies. Which reminds me, I haven't found Rocky yet, either. Let's take a peek into Maxie's Bowling Alley in Glendale Square. He usually goes down there on Saturday mornings so he can bowl for a dime a string. If we don't find him there we'll track him down at Huskie practice tomorrow afternoon.

I've still got Ron down on Elm Street to catch up to, as well. He's probably down at the Meadow Glen Drive-in chasing my sister and Linda around the parking lot. If it wasn't for Ron's mother we would have lost sight of the last days of the Horace Mann school building forever.

And I better not forget Kelly. She comes from one of Everett's biggest families. Her mother was one of the Marsinelli kids from down on Cabot Court. Kelly has lived all over the City of Everett in her day. She's lived on High Street, Green Ave, Reed Ave, and Heath Street. She's also an alumni of the Horace Mann, the Parlin, and Everett High. I'd be nuts to forget a kid with that much Everett history in her veins.

I'm all worn out from chasing all these kids all over the place. There's still Danny from Harvard Street to find. What a "clam." And there's Richie from Prescott Street. He graduated with me. He played the drums in the Everett High band. And my best friend, Stevie, from Malden Street. His sister Barbara was the lead singer and rhythm guitarist for the Ultimate Spinach. I kid you not.

I've also got to touch base with my good friend, Mikey, down on Bailey Street. He comes from another big and well-known Everett family. They're not only big in numbers, but also big at heart. We worked together for many years. Friends like Mikey are a rare breed, indeed.

And I forget what street Vinnie grew up on. We shared many a good gab in class up at Everett High. He graduated the year before I did. He still remembers the day I told him that I wanted to be a cartoonist when I grew up. I told him that when we were walking down Broadway together after school one day. Isn't it funny how some things just seem to stick in the back of your mind somehow?

There are still a lot of kids out there that I never did find. I knew I couldn't catch you all, but believe you me, I will catch up to you in another place at another time.

By the same token, there are just some kids I'm not gonna find no matter how hard I try. Kids like Billy from Ferry Street. He was one of the stars on our football team who graduated with me. I fondly look back on all those times he'd stop me in Glendale Park with his fatherly advice. He was concerned that my bohemian hippie lifestyle would eventually lead me down the path of ill repute.

Billy had a good heart. He genuinely cared about people. There was nothing selfish about this kid whatsoever. I can't find him now because God called him home. An emptiness echoes in a corner of my heart because he's gone.

The same goes for my good friend, Charlie, from down on Mansfield Street. He's another star of our football team who graduated with me. He'd look back at me sometimes and shake his head and laugh. I'd say, "what?" and he'd laugh back and say, "You really are a space shot. Do you know that?"

"What do ya mean?" I'd laugh.

"When are you gonna straighten up, find a job, and latch onto a steady girl? You can't spend the rest of your life like a guitar playing beatnik. You're gonna need to settle down eventually."

"I'll worry about that when "eventually" gets here," I'd tell him.

And there's also Kathy from Russell Street. We once spent a winter afternoon together watching them light the Christmas tree down in Everett Square. You had to know this kid to really appreciate her. She was one in a million.

When I mention these kids now my eyes well up with tears. I'm not so sure if it's for them or myself that I cry. I loved these kids. I miss them dearly. The sound of their voices, the smiles on their faces, and the goodness of their character will live on in my heart for all the days of my life. They once walked among us. And because of that they will always be a part of us.

Okay, that's enough of that or I'll have us all bawling our eyes out.

This was the last night my mother's letting me stay out after the streetlights come on. Over the next few days she's taking me shopping for school clothes, and then it's down to the Eagle Barbershop on Ferry Street to get my hair cut. Man, where did the summer go?

Time passes by in the twinkling of an eye. I'm sure you know that. In what seemed like a sudden flash, most of the things we cherished in our lives growing up in Everett vaporized into thin air. That's why it's so important to appreciate what we have while we still have it.

Nothing is more valuable than time. Right now we have each other. Together we share a unique legacy that is warm in friendship and true in character. And I'm including all the kids we grew up with from the surrounding communities like Malden, Chelsea, Medford, Revere, Charlestown, Melrose, Saugus, Somerville, Cambridge, Lynn, and places like that. In so many ways our lives were so commonly intermingled with each other.

There's not very many people out there who can honestly say they had what we still share in our hearts together. We can tho, because "We're from Everett!"