What if just one person who attended Sacred Heart School in Sharon, Massachusetts reads this diary? That would be very special.
Good evening and welcome to Got a Happy Story? The fourth anniversary of this series that was founded as a refuge from the horror that is George W. Bush comes in just ten days. Carnacki will be here to celebrate the event in two weeks.
This would be a resolutions edition if I had any to report or get happy about. It could be a back to work edition because that feels so good but I'll be unemployed again in the middle of next week. So once again I will attempt to go back in time.
I've been thinking for a while that being involved in not one but two Carnacki founded series is pretty special so tonight's Happy Story is part one of a two part series. The conclusion will be in Monday's Top Comments and it will have a question for you.
Now Monday is also my birthday so I'm hoping as a birthday present you will come and answer the question. The question will be "What actions during your formative years helped to make you a political activist?"
This really isn't much of a story but it is a happy story of a pleasant diversion. After devoting a few Happy Stories to childhood memories do you feel like taking another step back in time with me tonight? Perhaps I've gone to extremes this time, extreme nostalgia that is.
This story came about because of a little Google Maps curiosity. There was some Daily Kos synchronicity to go with it too. First a Boston Kossack Meet Up at tnichlsn's house got me thinking about that school. Then the search came after an autumn walk through the small stand of eastern white pines in the New York Botanical Gardens for my diary Got a Happy Story? Chrysanthemum Celebration Edition.
Have you ever walked in a forest of Pinus strobes or Eastern White Pine? There is a very small stand in the New York Botanical Gardens and whenever I walk there I get that spiritual aspect.
The smell of the acidic needles that are like cushions underfoot, the almost black bark at eye level with a whitish sap bursting out in places and the darkness caused by all of the green needles overhead make a pine grove about the quietest and sweetest smelling place on earth.
The pleasant turn of the century architecture where I attended school is now a parking lot for Sampson Park but it seemed like the the ugly 1950's era dormitory that was once hidden behind the pretty façade was still standing.
What really caught my eye was that the pond and a large eastern white pine forest that was was on school property seemed unaffected by the passing years. So I got in my car on a very rainy Saturday in November and on the way to a great party I made a brief stop at a place I hadn't seen since the Summer of Love.
The drive to Sharon, Massachusetts was a road trip to recapture some of my youth and so much came back. A long drive followed by a walk down memory lane. What is left of the boarding school I attended in the 1960's is a mural on the side of the bedroom I once shared with 200 other boys.
The stairs where I once taught many New England boys the Big Apple art of Stoop Ball is now overgrown in Asiatic bittersweet.
And the marvelous little pond where they taught me hockey seems to have been been forgotten.
I can't even begin to describe the goose bump flush of memories that hit me looking at that pond. Glorious shots past a too slow goalie and sliding down the man made ski jump that once stood at the back end of the pond. We never had skies and would just grab cardboard boxes from the school kitchen for the fast slide down and then across the pond.
The strongest and clearest memory was weekend days sitting besides that pond with my portable phonograph and the pride of my life the rectangular box filled with 45 R.P.M records. I clearly remembered sitting there with six other boys, playing the same record over and over but flipping it each time so we could debate which side was better, Come Together or Something.
I didn't stay long. Because of the rain I was already late for the party. And because I'm such a chatterbox that can't do two things at once I didn't get out the camera until half the crowd had left. But here are a few New England Kossacks that stay till the end of the party.
It was great seeing old friends and making new ones. It was also nice seeing Boston again. After a night in the Boston Park Plaza I took an early morning on the Boston Commons.
Followed by a trip to The Museum of Fine Arts.
And then it was back to school. That abandoned dormitory that was a roller skating rink on the first floor with big identical rooms on the second a third floor, each bedrooms for 100. Not much sleeping memories but that many rainy days spent roller skating to music that was chosen by the students brought back some great memories.
And another thrilling walk besides the ugly building to the pond I loved so much.
Not as pretty as I remembered it but what do you expect from a Bronx kid?
I was really there for those pine trees and on the second day I took time to explore the first forest of my youth.
That place where I discovered the mysteries of nature has not changed much. The broad leaf trees seem to be finding a place in the forest now. Back in my day it was just pine needles on the trail to Lake Massapoag.
The public beach looks exactly the way it did when I was a boy. Not that I'd ever been near it.
The school had a raft and a private beach that is now overgrown. In summer camp we could see the girls playing at their beach. It made us all crazy. Going back and thinking about those days I was reminded of the scene in Cool Hand Luke when the prisoners watched Joy Harmon wash a car. Isn't car washing fun to watch?
One of the worst thing you could get caught doing at this all boys school was fraternizing with one of the local girls. While I only saw the girls at the beach from far away and never talked to any I still have pictures in my mind of a few of them swimming and teasing the boarders.
There is a new addition. The town has added a dog park half way between the school and the lake.
On that November afternoon I had more interaction with the people of Sharon than I did in the four years I went to both school and camp there. They explained why the dormitory was still standing;
And there was one more trail to explore. It is now overgrown but there was a path through the forest that offered the Stations of the Cross and while it was off limits without supervision there was one brother who considered me to be a teacher's pet. I would walk with Brother John who was both the football coach and history teacher and we would discuss history but that will be the topic of Monday's Top Comments.
Almost nothing remains of that path.
But I found one bench in the middle of the forest that I may have sat on when I was ten years old.
I could go into the bittersweet memories but like many I only remember the good stuff. I think that my fondest memory from my boarding school days was one of my earliest original thoughts and the first time I flew. On the morning of the Blizzard of 1966, after the usual regimented breakfast the prefect announced there would be no school. Realizing that five feet of snow would make a great cushion I ran to the swings and once I got the swing as high as it would go, I jumped off.
Those sure seemed like really good years now. The good old days when Dwight D. Eisenhower represented the right wing and Democrat meant Democrat. Seriously they were very good years of organized sports and learning and I got off easy. The brothers were real sweethearts compared with the nuns I left in the Bronx.
Well That's it out of me. Sorry I'm so late tonight and didn't have enough time for the text part but I'm back to work and pressed for time.
And not to forget what Happy Story is all about.
Got a Happy Story is a community gathering every Friday night where we share stories large and small that have put smiles on our faces. It is a time to acknowledge the joy and wonder we experience. The Happy Story diary exists as a way to anchor the community in hope and comfort while we do the hard work of taking back our country. Everyone and all sorts of stories and pictures are welcome. May we find joy and strength here.
Do you have a Happy Story?