"Isn't it funny how some of those long ago memories are still there," responded Judy Stevens to an ancient memory of mine mentioned in this column.
"My first memory of being in a car was going to get my mom (she went back to work after I was born) in my dad's Model A Ford," she continued. "I was standing up in the front seat, and my head didn't touch the roof - no seat belts back then, that is for sure. Not sure how old I was, perhaps around 2."
Judy, a real Townie, lives in the house she was born in and writes of another ancient memory. "I remember about being afraid of the dark. I still was in a crib and it was in the same bedroom I now sleep in. My dad was my protector and would do most anything to make me feel safe. I guess I was calling for my parents in the night because of the dark. It was a scary world around me. So my dad hitched up a rope that was tied to the side of my bed and it went along my ceiling, across the hall and into my parent's bedroom. At the other end of the rope was a bell that was just above their bed. I was to pull the rope, if I got scared.
"I remember wanting to pull that rope but not knowing what to say if my mother appeared. I did pull it, and the only thing I could think of was to ask for a drink of water! Needless to say, that bell came right down the next day."
"My parents got me a 'night light' instead," Judy says. There weren't such things as night lights in stores back then, and so I had an angel that was meant to sit on top of a Christmas tree as my night light. I thought she was beautiful. She had white hair and a cone shaped gown made of some type of plastic, and her skirt lit up. So she protected me for many a night. I was blessed with a safe, secure childhood. I wish all children had that kind of memory."
Indeed, Judy. Thank you for those nice memories.
Knocking out street lights
The night light story reminded me of street lights and what scamps we were. Street lights were the enemy of kids. Many people from my era have said that after supper they were told to come home when the street lights came on. I wasn't told that because I lived close enough to the Playstead and Park that I played there 95% of the time. Both places were within the zone of my father's whistle. No human could whistle like he did. He'd stick a couple of fingers in the back of his mouth and make a sound so loud it would hurt your ears if you were close. His whistle told his boys they'd better come home.
However, when we were old enough to stay out after dark, anyone who played in the Park at night disliked a particular street light because it ruined after-dark games such as capture the flag. The light was above the stone bridge over Rogers Brook. (When the brook was buried in the late 1950s, the stone bridge remained to become an object of curiosity to newcomers.) Unless someone was being particularly spunky, the light was on during the cold part of the year when there were no night games in the Park, but during the summer, that light was dead. If it were in inmate on execution row, it would know that the final bell of the school year meant it was about to take the walk down the long corridor leading to the electric chair.
Street lights in those days were simple things. A large incandescent bulb hung below a flat tin disc that was 15 or so inches in diameter, The disc was white to reflect the light downward. The light was hung about 15 feet above the ground. Even a small wind would catch the disc and move it.
The disc would make loud reverberating noise when struck by a stone, as often it was. We had good arms, even as little kids we played sandlot baseball, but the target was small and the tin was sometimes hit dozens of times until the lucky throw broke the bulb. The sound was a familiar one around the neighborhood, but I don't remember anyone complaining or the police getting involved. I think it was assumed the light went out in summer - too many kids and too many stones.
(Looking back, and having changed broken bulbs myself, I feel sorry for the town worker who had to remove the shattered bulb and replace it. The best way to do the job is to cut the power, then use a raw potato and stick it inside the hole and slowly turn the bulb counterclockwise (lefty loosey, righty tighty).
For those of you who didn't know that trick, you have now learned that this column is filled with valuable tips.
Bill Dalton writes a weekly column for the Andover Townsman. He enjoys receiving your emails at billdalton@andovertownie.com.
