Although, this post is not about RSD, that's ok because RSD is not the sum of me , just a part of me. This post is about my memories of growing up in a small tiown.
A CHARMED LIFE
Though young at heart, I am a senior citizen (older than dirt, haha). Despite growing up in a dysfunctional home, I have great memories of growing up in New England; ice skating at the park, roller skating down the hill where we lived, the candy store and ice cream parlor nearby, four seasons, foliage and snow. Our home in Reading, MA, was a big two-story house with lots of charm and lots of hiding places. It had two attics, two basements and two long porches, a banister to slide down and a hidden stairway that had been cut off (becoming yet another hiding place). I remember boy friends and best friends and the local movie theater which cost 25 cents for the matinee. I remember climbing out my bedroom window and playing dolls on the roof of the front porch. Although, my favorite memory is of the wintertime; as we lived on a hill and the side of the house had a rock wall extending from the back porch down to the back yard. Add to that the height of the porch railing and now you have a good distance, ideal for jumping off the railing into the snow mounds below. Though this account does not detail the antics of a mischievous child (like skipping school, sneaking out at night, etc.), those too are cherished memories. Apart from the tumult of a dysfunctional home, the setting where I grew up was similar to a Norman Rockwell painting. It was the 1950’s and 60’s in a suburb of Boston. My dad worked for (and later owned) the town cab company, my mother worked at the town diner and we would ride the train into Boston to attend Red Sox games. We were big fans, especially of Ted Williams and the like. Now those were the days. My older brother and I were close in age, so he would get crushes on my friends and I would get crushes on his friends. The bowling alley was the local hangout, as was the drive-in movie theater. They were simpler times back then that evolved into fond memories. Roots grow deep and love endures. We may stray at times but family is forever and I’m glad that my siblings and I are close knit.
It’s funny how even little things can leave a big impression; things as simple as doing the dishes. That’s where I learned all the secrets typically kept from children…like Santa Claus is not real, there is no Easter bunny, and Mommy was married to someone else before Daddy. WHAT???????????? Yup! She eloped as a teenager and Grandpa had it annulled. Oh, my gosh! No wonder I was a tattle-tale. It probably stemmed from all the times of saying “MOMMMY! Nickie just said……………..! And the baby (the favored one), however cute, was not welcomed to tag along with me (the big sister) as it interrupted my fun. Good thing roots grow deep and love endures.
In my pre-school days, I would have tea parties with my best friend; in a wonderful playhouse that was built by her dad. We used to have such fun…until my family moved away when I was six. I missed her terribly but life was too busy to visit back and forth across town, as my mother worked two or three jobs to support us. My mother was very domestic and made all my clothes. Plus, despite working so much, there was always a plate of home-made cookies awaiting us when we arrived home from school. To this day, my childhood friends remember that fondly.
In elementary school, I met my next best friend and we were inseparable. They had a huge house and I would sleep over a lot. I even lived with them a few times. Their family kind of adopted me and I came to be called “the fifth sister”. We would pick fruit from their orchard and vegetables from their garden. We carried fresh tomatoes with us everywhere we went, even a salt shaker. We would make pot holders and sell them to earn money for Christmas shopping. We even ran away together once.
In high school, I had another best friend and more excitement. She, too, was very special and we had LOTS of fun together. Even in adulthood, I wouldn‘t dream of going home without visiting her. The friends I grew up with were remarkable then and they’re remarkable now. I always felt that growing up in Reading was “a charmed life” and, even though so much has changed over the years, I know from my former classmates who still live there that it has remained an ideal community.
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