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Pages From My Memory
Book...
By
Reno Litterio |
 Quincy
- The neighborhood I grew up in is still around me, having
lived most of my life in the same area and where I still
reside, in the city of Quincy. How can I not remember things
from the past that are so ingrained in my mind? The house we
first rented was on Hayden Street, it’s still there, a
brown, two-story clapboard with shingles and a long
driveway. An empty field, long ago, was running along West
Street and a lot of empty lots with less crowded neighbors.
In the front door of our house were fruit trees and a large
vegetable garden with a variety of delicious tomatoes,
string beans, yellow squash and cucumbers. I always had my
eyes on one particular apple tree. I loved to climb trees
and at the age of eight or nine I was always hungry. I had
to make sure the owner was not in sight, but as you would
guess she was inside watching me from her window most of the
time and started yelling at me to get down. Was she
concerned with my safety or her precious apples? What are a
few apples anyway for a growing boy?
Every day my friends would walk with me to the Willard
School on Furnace Brook Parkway and Copeland Street, usually
down Doble Street and under the bridge. This particular
morning we were late so we decided to walk on the railroad
tracks which came from the granite hills where the Crown
Colony now sits. I started to run on the tracks when I
tripped on a tie which knocked the wind out of me. I laid
right on the tracks unconscious. My friends couldn’t lift me
but dragged me off the tracks. The crushed stones were all
in my mouth and clothes with grease and dirt. A passerby was
asked to carry me home. When my mother saw me being carried
by this strange man, passed out and stones in my mouth, she
thought I was dead. But with a lot of love and all the good
food I was on my way to a recovery.
I remember one evening in the middle of the night; I awoke
with such a severe pain in my side that my mother called our
family doctor, who came within an hour; they did make house
calls then, and diagnosed my problem as appendicitis. I was
taken to the hospital the next day, where the doctor
performed surgery. After some days I was sent home, where I
was to stay for a week and miss school. I was happy when I
heard I could eat all the ice cream I wanted.
We finally moved into our own house, Dad liked the area
because of the location to schools and his work. At the
corner of West and Center was a square brick building, it’s
still there, and on the first floor the Ojala’s family ran a
variety store.
I especially remember the Plymouth Rock ice cream sign out
front advertising 5 cent ice cream cones and couldn’t
believe the size of the scoop they gave you. I couldn’t keep
up licking the side of the cone as the ice cream kept
dripping on the side. That became one of my frequent stops
when I had to run errands for mom. It’s now occupied by
Creative Works, recording studio.
As I grew up in the fifties and got my first driver’s
license, I felt like an un-caged bird. All the time I was
saving up for my own set of wheels. With the help of my dad
I finally bought a brand new Dodge, a three tone with a
white top and two tone blue body. It had dual exhaust
system; white walls and push button transmission box high up
on the left side of the dash board, chrome trim and slight
fins above the trunk. The new vehicle cost was only a little
more than $3,000. I remember a gallon of gasoline was only
26 cents and Dwight D. Eisenhower was president. |
About The Author
Reno J. Litterio is the cofounder of the Ward 4 Senior
Citizens Social Group in Quincy in 1992 and is now Chairman
and Director of the group. You can reach Mr. Litterio at
renowarior@ aol.com.
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