Readers of this space know that with a few exceptions in the past 6 to 8 weeks I've turned the streets of our city into my personal "memory lane," relating people, places and happenings called up from my 64 years on Attleboro's thoroughfares.
As we approached our teenage years though, we were discovering diversions just a bit outside the hometown borders. A few examples were the North Hop, Jolly Cholly's, swimming at the YMCA's Camp Finberg in Norton, skating and fishing Chartley Pond/Bristol Farms,(not to mention the food and ice cream that ol' Ev Leonard dished up at the latter) to mention but a few.
Then too, there were the summer day trips which began around the time we were 12 or 13 (which would have been roughly 1960-61).
We would either ride our bicycles or hitchhike - "thumbing," as we called it, was a safer, more generally accepted method of getting around in those awkward pre-driver's license years.)
One of our more pleasurable summer day trips involved hitching or biking to Frate's dairy bar on Route 140 in Norton, on the Mansfield Road. Upon arriving, if we had worked up an appetite (and what boys our age didn't), Frate's would be more than happy to help you stave off those hunger pangs for a nominal price.
Frate's in those days was a natural magnet for motorists cruising Route 140, particularly those with children. It was located beside cool inviting bodies of water right where the well-traveled Freeman Street joined 140. Even more than location, though, Frate's was defined by its strikingly distinctive architecture - the outpost was shaped like a giant white wooden milk bottle about 30 feet high with several popular offerings from their menu conspicuously posted.
Having arrived at Frate's and eaten our fill, we could then swim, fish or rent a canoe or rowboat from the Robinson family, which owned and operated Robinson's Rentals in Norton Grove.
Until we grew too old for such pursuits, those summer days in those boats on the reservoir provided my pals and I with countless fun-filled flights of fancy, all stemming from our incredibly fertile imaginations.
One bright summer morning, we were four surviving buccaneers from a sleek man-o'-war, the skull & crossbones snapping in the brisk trade winds as we engaged in clandestine escape in a lifeboat from that mortally wounded pirate ship.
The ship, we told ourselves, was damaged in a lightning raid on one of His Majesty's plumpest plums, a dreadnought stuffed to the gunwales with Spanish gold which the Brits themselves had plundered on the high seas.
Between us in the lifeboat sat a teak chest heavy with booty which we planned to hide away on this nearby island - after which we would reunite with any surviving shipmates, capture a Corsair and yet again hoist the Jolly Roger!
On yet another day, a recently read " Hardy Boy's Mystery" by Franklin W. Dixon inspired us to chase down clues while attempting to crack the baffling case which confounded the police force. Holding our oars aloft from the water in muffled oar locks for silence, we furtively approached the island which revealed the bad guy's hideout.
Then too, there was the time tested "Soldiers at War," our rowboats serving as LSTs ferrying us to our island beachhead, just as Uncle Joe had done on Saipan not too many years before.
Inevitably, the sun fell low in the west, signaling that our full day of boating swimming and fishing was once again over. So we dutifully returned the boats to Mr. Robinson and made the short hike through the darkening woods to Frate's for cheeseburgers, french fries and coffee frappes to sustain us for our homeward leg of the trip.
Grateful to well-wishers
I would like to thank those well-wishers caring enough to take the effort to send notes of recovery and best wishes both to Bob Warren and to Jim "Bunny" Rich; both men were grateful enough to request that I extend their profound gratitude to those who responded.
Bunny revealed to me that he was very pleasantly astonished to hear from several classmates he hadn't been in contact with since their high school graduation (1954!) I can only add my thanks to those compassionate correspondents.
In an unrelated matter, anyone out there who is able to provide information on two former local theaters - the Olympia and the Star - I'd be most grateful if you could contact me at 146 County St., Attleboro, MA 02703, or by sending it to the offices of the Sun Chronicle, PO Box 600, Attleboro, MA 02703. Any information will be greatly appreciated.
Parting thoughts
Condolences this week to the family of Charlotte Mae Grimes Goding, who was once my teacher at Thatcher and AHS, and who, with her late husband, Kenneth Goding, taught generations of Attleboro students.
Sympathy goes especially to her sons and their wives, Charles and Nancy Goding: Jeffrey and Marianne Goding and Lyman and Jeanne Goding; and also to 8 grandchildren, 11 great-grandchildren and great-great grandchild.
Our sympathy to the family of Mary Jane Perry, particularly to her husband of 49 years, David Perry, and also their son, Sean and his wife Lynne; also to Kayla, a granddaughter, and to Mrs. Perry's brother and his wife, Padraig and Bridie Connolly, and their children, Kieran and Anne. Condolences also to her brother-in-law, Joseph Moran, and niece and nephew, Shannon and Matthew Moran.
Please be good to one another out there and try to do a good turn for another each day; in particular please try to help those less fortunate than ourselves, the hungry and the homeless.
Don't be lulled by the weather turning warmer - the war against indignity and indecency is constant, I'm afraid. Peace...
