Under The Streetlights - Part 4

When I think back on my childhood growing up in Everett, it makes me wonder as to how I ever survived. Every Sunday morning my dad sizzled up two pounds of bacon, and then deep-fried a feast of hand-shredded potatoes in the leftover fatty oils. After that, he broke open a dozen and a half eggs and plopped them down into that very same bacon grease.

Add onions, peppers, and a little garlic into the mix and you've got a bouquet of fragrances that will absolutely tantalize your senses. The aroma filled our entire apartment, spilled out into the hallways, and wafted out into the neighborhood below. That is precisely why Joey came banging at the back door an hour before Sunday school every week like clockwork.

By the time you licked that platter clean you swallowed enough fat and cholesterol to kill or cripple a rogue elephant. Besides that, my dad was a butter freak. He couldn't stand the sight of margarine. So on top of all that bacon grease you sat down to at least a half of a stick of butter if you add up what he put on your toast, your home fries, and your scrambled eggs.

You've never tasted anything so mouth watering delicious in your life. The funny part is that in the eyes of our parents, that was about as healthy as a meal as you could get. And I'll be honest with ya, since I've started eating healthier foods my tastes buds have gone flat.

Besides getting away from that supposedly life threatening diet we grew up on, I do believe it was my generation who started taxiing our kids all over the place. That was so unlike our parents because, for one thing, when we were kids not every family had a car. By the time I graduated from Everett High just about everybody had one.

I can't imagine walking up to my dad and asking, "Can you give us a ride down to Glendale Park? We wanna play tag rush." He'd look at me like I had two heads. Besides, I could almost fit as many kids on my bike as he could into his 1952 Ford Custom. That was mainly because my dad was a truck mechanic who always had tools and rags strewn all over the back seat.

Whenever the urge hit us to take off anywhere, the thought of asking our parents for a ride never occurred to us. If we wanted to take off to Revere Beach for the day we just stood at the bus stop in front of Whitehill Pharmacy at the corner of Nichols and Ferry to hop on the 110 Wonderland. And if we wanted to take off for Pine Banks we'd hop on our bikes.

Back then nobody suited up in spandex pants and a helmet just to coast down Ferry Street on a bike. You wouldn't be caught dead in anything like that when we were kids. All we ever did was roll up our pant cuffs so not to get caught in the chain.

We can poke fun at and ridicule our modern day bicyclists all we want, but we had just as many hang ups about our bikes back then as they do today. Ask any guy who grew up in Everett. There was a certain modus operandi involved with bike riding back then, that if not observed, all the other guys would think you were a sissy.

As soon as you got a new bike you had to knock off the fenders. Fenders weren't cool. And please, don't even think about venturing beyond your backyard with streamers flowing from your handlebars. You'd never live it down.

A chain guard is okay so long as it's black or red and there's no decorations on it. If there is you'd better peel them off before that thing ever sees the light of day. Better yet, go ahead and knock that chain guard off altogether so you won't have to deal with any unnecessary flack.

You'd be crazy to totally ignore at least the basic rules of safety involved with bike riding. We did anyway. As a result we crashed into telephone poles, got hit by cars, and fell down that long flight of steps at the back of the Parlin.

Frankie from Foster Street tried to ride his bike without handlebars once and wound up getting a surgical plate put into his head. He's lucky he wasn't killed. You remember Frankie, don't ya? His father used to own the plumbing shop on the corner of Villa Ave and Ferry.

I can't tell you how many times my mother screamed at me from our second story window for having more than one kid on my bike at any one time. It was no big deal, really. I've done it at least a hundred times.

There really was something to that 1960 classic horror movie called the "The Village of the Damned" they showed down at the Park Theatre. That was the movie in which if you taught one kid anything at all, all the other kids automatically knew it without being taught. It just seemed like if any kid anywhere in these Untied States figured something out - every other kid in the country found it out instantly.

I'm talking about things like how to fit five kids on an airplane you made by wrapping three swings together, how to make a matchstick shooter, and how to ride three kids on a bike. When was the last time you saw three kids on a bike? And when was the last time you saw a matchstick shooter?

Come to think of it, do they even make those white-tipped stick matches that you can strike on just about anything imaginable to spark em up? It was once a favorite past time of ours to see if you could spark it up by striking it across the seat of your pants. Hey, and do you remember that song we used to sing? It goes like this ...

"Matches, matches, m-a-t-c-h-e-s,
You can light em on the wall,
You can light em on the grass,
I once knew a kid who could like em on his,
Matches, matches, m-a-t-c-h-e-s."

Those white-tipped stick matches were the very reason that every little boy became enthralled in playing with matches. They always said, "the way to a man's heart is through his belly." That may be true once he grows up, but when he's still a little boy the way to his heart is through matches and firecrackers. Ask any boy who grew up in Everett. He'll tell ya.

Of course, you're hearing that from the very kid who charred all the back porches on that six-family down on Arlington Street with a box of white-tipped stick matches when he was in the first grade. That certainly cured him of his obsession of playing with matches, let me tell ya. That is, without a shadow of a doubt, my most noticeable contribution to the Arlington Street community, if I do say so myself.

That's why I say, regardless of how small it may seem, each and every one of us has made our own contribution to the growing up in Everett experience just by being a part of it. Unlike when we were kids how we just knew something automatically because another kid halfway across the planet figured it out, I know nothing about your contributions to the "growing up in Everett" experience unless you tell it to me. And since we started this project you have told me plenty.

I guess you could say that's what's really behind this citywide game of "hide-and-go-seek" series anyway. This gives me the opportunity to share with you what other kids from Everett have told me about their childhood experiences, and the contributions that their families have made to our community. I say "kids" because when we gather here to reminisce about the moments we shared growing up in Everett, we become kids all over again, regardless of how old we are today.

So let's get back to our citywide game of "hide-and-go-seek" under the streetlights, shall we? We've still got a whole slew of people to touch base with. Which reminds me, I wanted to jump back to Dorothy who I tagged on our last outing.

All I knew about Dorothy was that she was a good friend of Paula's. That, plus the fact that she still had some of the dishes her mother got as give-aways so many years ago at the Park Theatre. That's all she ever told me.

Well, it just so happens that Sam, Paula's better half, filled me in on a few more details. Dorothy is obviously very modest about her family's contributions. Her family goes back for many generations here in the Everett zone.

Sam told me that Dorothy lived on Nichols Street in the house just past the block of stores that ran from the corner of Woodlawn Street. She later moved to Malden Street. Many generations ago her grandfather drove a horse & buggy through the streets of Everett as a junk man.

Now there's a term that conjures up an image that is so uncomplimentary to the true character of its profession. When somebody says "junk man" you picture a poor laborer who hasn't got two nickels to rub together. Nothing could be further from the truth.

In all actuality, "Junk men" (we used to call them "junkies" but that means something altogether different now) salvage precious metals from discarded goods and are rewarded handsomely for their efforts. It is a bit of a dirty job, but it is certainly a respectable one, and it contributes to the recycling of usable goods. I dare say, a "junk man" was the first profession of the Industrial Age to ever contribute to the good of our environment.

So let's give notable recognition to Grandpa Shapiro for his contributions to a cleaner environment a hundred years before it was fashionable to do so. And let's do that with pride because Grandpa Shapiro was from Everett.

Dorothy's family contributions don't end there. For you see, her father was once the proprietor of the Summer Street Market. That's the store at the fork in the road between Summer and High. I've written about that store many times over the past two and half years.

I can't count how many times I've strolled from those steps at the Horace Mann playground down to the Summer Street Market for a Hoodsie on a hot summer afternoon. If you grew up anywhere from behind the Parlin down to Ferry Street, then you've frequented the Summer Street Market more times than you could possibly remember. It was that much of an icon to our community.

Since I had already found Dorothy, I figured I'd pass along that info before we got into tonight's game. Thanks for sharing that with us, Sam. And thank you, Dorothy, for all the contributions your family has made to our "growing up in Everett" experience.

And now without further adieu, let's get back to our game in progress.

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

Since we're kind of on a roll here about the contributions that so many Everett people have made to our growing up experience, let's go hunt down a few more people of noticeable recognition. Let's start with George.

George has made many contributions to our "Growing Up Everett" picture archives. The pictures he's shared have brought back into focus many of my long lost childhood memories. Like seeing the back of our old Everett High School as it once looked in 1970 before the new addition. I'm still calling it the "new" addition even tho it happened decades ago. Funny thing about me is that anything that happened after the 60's still seems like it's new.

Those bird's eye views of Everett Square from the 50's and 60's have conjured up countless memories of coasting down Broadway on my bike delivering newspapers. Seeing the old Devens school again rekindles the time we all ran helter-skelter down Broadway to watch it burn to the ground. Even that aerial view of Norwood Street back in the day makes me feel like I'm standing right outside Freddy's record store. It makes me wonder whether I should take a stroll into Gorins to say "hi" to Peter, or just head on over to Kresge's lunch counter for a grilled cheese and a side of fries.

George's family is an icon in the City of Everett for many reasons. His family has enjoyed a multi-generational history in proprietorship of the famous "Home Appliance" shop down on Main Street. It is still there along with a dry cleaner and a real estate agency. And yes, it is still the same family owned proprietorship serving the Everett community.

George's father is affectionately remembered as one of Everett's most popular mayors. He was elected to six consecutive terms. His administration spanned from 1967 right up until 1978. Keeping within the family tradition, George's Uncle also followed in those honored footsteps by winning six consecutive terms as our Mayor spanning from 1986 up until 1998. Now that to me shows a true blue Everett spirit with a sense of local pride that has community responsibility written all over it.

I dare say, George has also followed that path of family honor for giving back to our community by his many contributions to our "Growing Up Everett" picture archives. He has shared so many of his childhood memories with me that I feel as though I've known him all my life. It is a privilege to count him amongst my most treasured friends. And besides all that, I just got his gools.

Another person I'd like to tag tonight whose family has made notable contributions to our "Growing Up Everett" experience is Victor. He is a proud alumni of the 1978 Everett High school graduating class. It is upon Victor's father that gives me great pleasure to shed some interesting insight.

Many of you will remember Victor's father as the highly respected Everett High School teacher we all know and love as, Mr. DeRubeis. This native of Tussio, Italy, arrived in theses United States way back in 1924. And he introduced the study of Italian at Everett High School when he began teaching there in 1937. Pretty cool, huh?

By the time Mr. DeRubeis retired from teaching in 1979, he was personally responsible for many notable innovations to our education. Just to give you brief idea as to some of those distinguished accomplishments, let me begin by pointing out that he was instrumental in giving birth to and organizing the annual Italian Night (Una Serata Italiana) presentations by the students. They included plays and skits, many of them written by Mr. DeRubeis himself, and songs celebrating the Italian culture. And might I also add, they were all done in Italian.

Mr. DeRubeis also instigated the introduction of the language laboratories at Everett High and at the Parlin Junior High. The introduction of the Multi-Language Lab in the early 1970s allowed students to independently study any language they chose through programmed learning tapes. It was a forerunner of the Pimsleur and Rosetta Stone programs so popular today. Among Mr. DeRubeis former multi-language lab students was Patrick Schena, who is now a professor at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy.

I pass that information along almost verbatim from Victor himself. What that tells me is that Victor is proud of his father's legacy, and for the contributions that his family has made to our "growing up in Everett" experience. And so he should be.

I, on the other hand, am truly grateful for the opportunity to have walked in the shadows of such an accomplished individual. That is the kind of selfless quality in character that made Everett such a wonderful place for a kid to grow up.

Think about it. Those innovations didn't fatten anybody's wallet. They were not done out of personal gain. They were done for the good of our community as a whole. And that is precisely what is missing from our society today.

Ever since the "We're from Everett" project began, we've spoken about many individuals who have made selfless contributions for the good of their neighbors. They have come from all walks of life. They were Jewish, Italian, African, German, Hispanic, Native American, Irish, and God knows what else. Because we grew up in a community that looked beyond the limitations of labels, we accomplished things that people with closed minds could never have achieved.

Everett always was an authentic representation of the American melting pot. Because we lived together as people, instead of as splintered factions of isolated ideologies, we formed a trusted community with a bond that ran so true through our veins.

Some people's contributions may seem more influential than others, but the truth is, you may never realize how just one small act of selfless kindness may change someone's life. Who knows, it may have been your very smile that caught my eye when I was just a little kid that kindle the fire in my heart to be so passionate about my hometown, and all of its people. You never know.

Each and every person who has ever lived in Everett has contributed to the overall experience. Even crazy Rosie played an influential role in our community. It was people like her that taught us to be more receptive to the less fortunate. She taught us how to open our hearts. And she certainly taught us how to deal with an embarrassing brutal honesty. I'll give her that.

I do hope that you will forgive me for not finding very many people tonight. There was just so much to tell that the night flew by like that bat of an eye. Hey, I'm a poet and don't know it.

There are many stories still out there yet to be told. If you've got an interesting tidbit to tell, by all means, share it with us. Throw your two cents in. Get your story out there. Everyone deserves to be heard. All of the stories you've so enjoyed about other people who grew up in Everett only materialized because those people were generous enough to share their experiences with us.

Keep in mind that what we're doing here is not only to reminisce about the good old days. We're leaving a legacy behind for our grandchildren's grandchildren. We are telling our story to our descendants who have yet to be born. A hundred years after we've gone they will know their ancestors personally because of the stories we've told today.

Tell your story to your grandchildren's grandchildren. Don't take it with you beyond the far horizon. Tell it now so they will know you personally in their own lifetime. Wouldn't you have valued the opportunity to know your great grandfather on such a personal level?

This is, by far, the greatest gift you could possibly leave behind to your descendants. The stories you tell will double them over in laughter sometimes, and at other times their eyes will edge with tears. They will know that we were human. They will know that we had our trials and our tribulations. And they will know that we had loved and we had lost.

We won't be there to rest a reassuring hand on their shoulder when they can't see the light at the end of the tunnel, but we can actually do the next best thing for them if we chose our words wisely, and give to them our truth. They will feel our presence. It will give them a sense of reassurance and pride.

Above all else, they will know that we do love them from beyond the far horizon because we cared enough to reach across the infinite distance of time to touch their hearts in such a personal way. And just as importantly, they will also know that - "We're from Everett!"
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