A Labor Day Weekend in Everett

When you're a little kid, you really don't fully understand much about the working people's important contributions to the basic fabric of our way of life. All you know is that Labor Day weekend is the very last weekend of summer before school starts.

Nower days, everyone goes back to school a week or two before the Labor Day weekend. What the logic behind that is - is way beyond me. Nonetheless, that's the way it is. Thankfully, we did not suffer such indignation when we were little kids growing up in Everett. I must say, that's one thing that the public education system got right back in our day.

And just as you might suspect, there is one special Labor Day weekend during my childhood growing up in Everett that I'd love nothing more than to share with you. It was the Labor Day weekend of 1962, when I was ten years old.

Going away on holiday during the Labor Day weekend is one of America's most distinguished family traditions. It's right up there with cookouts on the Fourth of July and turkey dinners on Thanksgiving. The luckier kids in the neighborhood had grandparents who owned summer cottages either up in the White Mountains or somewhere down on the Cape. Those of us who didn't, were sometimes blessed with taking little day trips during the holiday weekend.

The Labor Day weekend of 1962 sticks out in my mind because shortly after the Fourth of July that summer, my dad suggested that we all take a road-trip out to Indiana. My Dad was born and raised in Indiana. Back then, the only other person I ever knew who came from Indiana was Red Skelton.

I knew absolutely nothing about my father's side of the family. I never met them, and he never talked much about them other than to say, "I ain't got much use for that crowd."

My sister used to say, "Don't you remember the time when Aunt Margie came to visit?" No, I don't. I was only a toddler when that happened. That was probably around the same time when I first discovered that I had a nose. In all honestly, something so momentous as discovering the nose on your face is bound to overshadow anything else that's going on around you.

Up until then, the only other state I had ever visited was New Hampshire. So just the thought of traveling half-way across the country ignited a fire in my soul beyond my wildest imagination. I couldn't wait to tell all of my friends up at the Horace Mann school playground that I was going to Indiana.

During the summer months, there was a family from Pennsylvania who visited with relatives at the top of Villa Ave. They had two daughters who hung around with all of us up at the school ground. The oldest was several years older than I. And the younger one was my age.

For one reason or another, the younger sister couldn't stand the sight of me. She went through great pains to make that fact obvious to everyone - including me. And because she went to such great lengths to make her sentiments toward me so well known, it bothered me. Well, to be honest with ya, it down right hurt my feelings.

Everyone liked her. Heck, even I liked her. We all got a big boot out of the way she talked. The moment she opened her mouth you could tell that she was no New Englander. What was so troubling about the whole situation was that she seemed like such a nice kid. She just couldn't stand me.

I've got to tell ya something. I've been an artist since I could hold a pencil. If you're artistic - you're sensitive. It's that simple.

On this one particular morning, I was the first kid to show up on those little school ground cement steps on Foster Street. I was just sitting there playing with my sneaker laces waiting for everybody else to show up that morning. As fate would have it, the second person to show up was that girl from Pennsylvania.

She just sat there across from me - totally ignoring me. After a few minutes, I broke the silence and asked, "How come you don't like me?" I will never forget her exact words for as long as I live. They were the hardest words ever spoken to me. She said, "I hate you because you're ugly and stupid." Jeez, so much for that "You've got a friend in Pennsylvania" slogan - huh?

How can you argue with something like that? I thought that maybe if we talked it out, we might be able to iron out our differences and become friends. The last thing I ever expected was a response so harsh as that.

There is neither an answer, nor a response, to such a bold remark that could ever lead to anything positive. Because she was so well liked amongst all the other kids, I just felt like if I kept hanging around, everyone else would eventually turn against me as well. Without so much as a single word, I got up and walked home.

From that moment on, I stayed way from the playground. I went out riding on my bike instead. Whenever anyone suggested we go ride the swings up at the playground, I only agreed if it was in the late afternoon when I knew she wouldn't be there. I just figured that if I wasn't there to aggravate her, she wouldn't keep saying bad things about me to everybody. "Out of sight - out of mind," as they say.

The only reason her harsh words didn't totally destroy me was because of my upcoming trip to Indiana. My Dad had penciled out our driving route from Boston to Terre Haute on his Rand-McNally road map. Every night we'd go over the map together at the kitchen table and he'd tell me all about the different places we were going to see along the way. And on the following day, I would point all of that out to my friends. They were all so excited for me.

It got to the point where I knew by heart, the names of all the major cities we were going to stop at along the way. You should have heard me rattling them all off. They were Boston, Worchester, Springfield, Pittsfield, Albany, Schenectady, Syracuse, Buffalo, Cleveland, Columbus, Dayton, Richmond, Indianapolis, and finally, Terre Haute. And they were in that order, too.

I was so excited that I started to learn things about that part of the country that I never knew before. Terre Haute borders Illinois. It's where the original Coka Cola bottle was designed. The name, "Terre Haute, Indiana" means "The High Plateau in the Land of the Indians." I love the sound of that. Terre Haute is famous as thee "Crossroads of America." If all that wasn't enough to ignite the imagination of a little kid, then maybe the thrill of venturing off to the Midwest was. It certainly was for me.

We all know that famous old saying about how "The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry." It was to become a bitter pill for me to swallow during the summer of 62'. By mid-August my Dad's car started falling apart. Our ten year old Ford Customline had literally turned into a rust bucket.

It started with a clicking noise somewhere near the rear axle. Then, the motor started to cough and sputter a few rounds after you shut it off. It started losing more than a quart of oil a day. The clincher was when my Dad rolled into the driveway after work one afternoon spewing white smoke from the engine. Little did we know that when old Betsy sputtered to a halt that day, she was never to go again.

For the next two weeks my Dad hitched a ride to work with his best friend, Jack Thomas. In the meantime, he shopped around for a reliable used car. My worst fear became a reality when only a few days before the Labor Day weekend my Dad announced, "Maybe we can go to Indiana next year."

"Next year? Maybe we'll find a new car before Labor Day." I still had hopes.

"There's just no way," he said emphatically. "After I pay for it, insure it, and register it, I won't have any money left for any kind of trip this year. It's completely out of the question."

With all of my wildest dreams dashed against the rocks, I now had to face all of my friends with my tail between my legs and say, "We're not going to Indiana after all." The disappointment alone seemed too much to bear. My heart was broken.

Forgetting all about my self-imposed exile from the Horace Mann playground, early the next morning I went up to drown my sorrows with a ride on the swings. I made sure I went early enough so nobody else would be there. I didn't feeling talking to anybody. I just wanted to be left alone.

The first kid to show up that morning was my good friend, Ann. With a warm welcoming smile she said "Hey Paul, I haven't seen you for awhile." She then took the swing beside me.

"So where have you been?" She asked.

Ann is a great kid from a really nice family. I played stick ball with her brothers all the time. She's a very pretty girl with a wonderful personality to match. I absolutely cherished her friendship.

So I told her, "that girl and I just can't get along so I've stayed away."

"Why don't you get along?"

That's when I told her what that girl said to me. Then I added, "When she shows up today, I'm gonna leave."

"Well you don't have to worry about that because they went home to Pennsylvania yesterday," she said.

"Well, that's a relief."

"Why didn't you tell everybody what she said to you?" She asked.

"Because it's embarrassing. Besides, everybody likes her. I was afraid nobody would like me if that's the way she felt."

"Paul, our families have been friends since we were born. My brothers are your friends. We like you. We like you a lot. Don't you think we would have stuck by you instead of some conceited outsider? If we all knew she said that to you none of us would have liked her at all."

"Really?"

"Don't you have any faith in your friends?"

"It was me I didn't have any faith in."

"Well, don't worry. Everybody likes you. And if there's one thing you're not - you're not ugly. She probably had a crush on you and was too immature to show it so that was her way of getting your attention," she explained

"Besides, if she hated you that much why would she sit down beside you when no one else was around? If I hated somebody that much and they were the only other kid in the playground I would have gone back home."

"Come on, let's make an airplane," she suggested.

So that's what we did. We wrapped three swings together to make an airplane. I sat in the pilot's seat and she stood at my feet and pumped us up into sky. Ann made me feel good about myself for the first in a very long time. Gee, I didn't even feel so bad about missing out on that trip to Indiana any more.

When the time came to explain to everybody that the trip to Indiana was off, I got a great response to that as well. As it turned out, most of the other kids weren't going anywhere that year either. "This is great," Tommy said. "We'll all be together over the holiday weekend." It feels great to have such good friends - let me tell ya.

On Friday morning of Labor Day weekend, my brother Billy woke me up out of a sound sleep saying, "We don't have time to sleep in today. We've got a lot of work to do to get ready for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Dad said we can't go to Indiana this year?"

"Who cares about that?" He said. "If we're going to have a backyard carnival tomorrow we've got to get everything all set up today."

"A backyard carnival? Us? In our yard? Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious. Come on, let's get to work."

Billy's friends all showed up that day to help build our backyard carnival. We started sawing wood and banging things together that didn't start to make a whole lot of sense until sometime in the late afternoon. Mikey and Donny headed out on their bikes to advertise our backyard carnival all across the city of Everett. The excitement was overwhelming. This wasn't turning out to be such a bad weekend after all.

Come Saturday morning, that backyard of ours had transformed into something out of this world. Me and Carl stood out on the edge of the driveway at the ticket booth raking in all the cash. Well, it wasn't actually a ticket booth. It was a small folding table with a cigar box that we threw the money in.

Yes, we had tickets. We handed out ten tickets for a dime. It cost a ticket at each of the attractions. And you know old soft hearted me, if you didn't have a whole dime I gave ya the ten tickets anyway. I was having such a good old time that I really didn't care about profits. The joy in my heart was all the profit I needed. Who needs Indiana anyway?

Did anybody actually show up for this thing? I thought you'd never ask. You should have seen the crowd that showed up for our backyard carnival that day. Donny said we even got a few kids from Malden and Chelsea. Can you imagine that? Our backyard was filled with kids from one end to the other.

When the newcomers dwindled down to a mere trickle, my brother Billy said, "Come on, Paul. Give yourself some tickets and enjoy the carnival." That's just one of the many benefits of being related to the manager.

One step inside that carnival and it became obvious as to why we had such a great turnout. You should have seen all the things there was to do at our backyard carnival. It's funny how I never realized how much was really going on inside this thing when we were building it. Looking at it through the eyes of a participant gave me a whole new perspective.

Come on, I'll show you around.

Over here we've got the traditional "knock over the stack of milk bottles with the pimple ball." It's not as easy as it looks. Sure, they've got prizes, and kids are winning them left and right, too. They somehow amassed a ton of party favors and were handing those out for prizes.

Just after that, they've got an old wicker basket dangling from a free swinging rope. You got three chances to throw the basket ball through it. That was a blast. They even had a purposely lopsided wobbly bowling alley all set up. You got three throws to try to knock all the pins down. That was both fun and challenging.

Rides? Sure, we've got rides. First that had a tire swing hanging from the only branch that hung out over our yard down along where our yard crossed over into Henry Gray's property on Ferry Street. When you hopped onto it, they pushed you so high that it actually got a little scary. A year later that tree got struck by lightning and blown apart in a severe thunder storm.

My favorite ride was the "Wagon Shoot" they put together with some old planks. It was much higher and steeper than the aluminum slide up at the playground. What was so much fun about it is that when you got to the top, they sat you in a wagon and you coasted down the planks, full speed ahead, until you crashed into the bushes at the bottom. What a laugh and half that was.

Oh, and did I tell you about throwing darts at the balloon wall yet? You won a prize if you popped three balloons with three darts. Not bad - huh? There was also a game where you got three tries to kick a football though a swinging tire. Besides all that, they had one game where you dropped a marble down into a fish tank full of water. If your marble landed inside the glass at the bottom, you won a prize.

We ain't finished yet, believe you me. We had a ring toss game where you tried to loop the ring over a peg that was floating in an old washtub. And if that don't beat all, the water balloon attraction was more laughs than a barrel of monkeys.

My brother Billy sat on a folding chair in front of a sheet of plywood with nails sticking out of it above his head. All you had to do is hit the nail with the water balloon and he got drenched. He was soaking wet by the end of the day - let me tell ya.

That was the only carnival we ever held in my backyard, but it was a real doosey. It filled my heart with enough treasured memories to last a lifetime. What could have been the most disappointing Labor Day weekend of all time, turned out to be one of the most memorable moments of my childhood.

Reliving that magic moment touches me in a melancholy sort of way. My big brother Billy, and three of his closest friends that help put that backyard carnival together are now gone. From somewhere deep down inside my heart, I see their smiling faces, and hear their laughing voices, just as they were on the day we held that backyard carnival.

It wasn't until later in life that I fully realized what it was my brother had done. At a time in his life when a backyard carnival was the furthest thing from his mind, he gathered his friends and put together a Labor Day weekend for his little brother to make up for all the disappointment that lurked within his soul. He certainly did that.

With friends like these, you don't ever have to worry about enemies. They just don't matter. Speaking of enemies, you're probably wondering whatever became of that girl from Pennsylvania - right?

I honestly couldn't tell ya. We never really crossed paths again. Many years later, when I was around seventeen years old, I was driving my Volkswagen down Foster Street past the Horace Mann schoolground steps. The days of schoolground teachers were now gone, and kids really didn't play at that playground any more. There sitting at the top of those steps was that girl from Pennsylvania.

She didn't look happy. She looked kind of lonely sitting there all by herself. "There sat the queen in her empty court," I thought to myself. In an ironic sort of way, I kind of felt sorry for her. What happened between us was so long ago now that it really didn't matter any more. Chances are, she's matured and hopefully acquired a little more tactfulness along the way.

Another reason I felt sorry for her was because here we are seventeen years old and she's still so codependent on her parents that they're still dragging her along on family vacations. Usually by the time we're seventeen we have jobs and lives of our own. I never saw her again after that.

That's what it was like to grow up in Everett. You made friends that remained true throughout your entire life. Oh sure, you hit a few rough spots along the way, but I don't know anyone who grew up with friends like we have. And we did accumulate a lifetime of cherished memories in our day because - "We're From Everett!"
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