“Heap high the farmer’s wintry hoard!
Heap high the golden corn!”
By John Greenleaf Whittier

I love seeing the ears of corn in the stores right now. They are much less expensive than they were when they came to market three weeks ago. You probably can find them @ 10 for $2 in one of the markets. I have also found the glass jar with the corn holders inside. There are six ears of corn waiting in our basement refrigerator for a cooler evening to put on the big pot to boil water in which to cook them.
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Last Tuesday. I received a call from Stan at the Elderly Commission. He was wondering if I would be available to appear on the commission’s TV show “Seniors Count” on Thursday. I was taken aback by the request. I’ve only appeared on TV once before and I was on pins and needles throughout the show. I do know why. When I write my columns, I can refine them. And daughter Sue often offers me a better word for the one that I’ve already used. I couldn’t remember the word “guardrails” when I was writing about our school bus that decided to stop on the Expressway. She gave me the word. There would be no guardian angel to give me the correct word in my ear if I were on TV.

The studios for the city’s TV stations are located in the Egleston Square area, on Washington Street. I lived in Egleston Square when I was a little kid, in the late ‘30’s to mid 40’s. I decided that I would ride with Hubby to make sure we knew where to go on Thursday afternoon. As we drove through the area, memories came flooding back to me. My first school was on School Street, the Ellis Mendell School. (The street is now one way, the wrong way, so we didn’t go down to see the school.) I used to walk up Washington Street and down School Street to school. I walked by the Home of Frosted Lemon Pies on Washington Street each day but never went in to buy one. During World War II, we walked in air raid Lines going home from school. Miss Durant, the school’s principal, used to ride up and down School Street in her little blue coupe to make sure we stayed in line until we reached Washington Street. We would get scolded if we broke formation. For years, my Uncle Tip was assigned to the fire station in Egleston Square. In those years, firefighters worked 48 hours on duty and 48 off. My Aunt Ethel would make a plate of dinner food for Tip, and I, being the oldest, would walk up Atherton Street (I think) to the fire station, which, in those years, was near the Egleston Theatre. (It has since been moved.) The local supermarket, First National, I think, was at the corner of Washington and School streets. I would walk back and forth for my Grandma, who with Grandpa lived with my mother, father, brother Jackie, and me, and with my Aunt Ethel, Uncle Tip, and Cousin Jimmy, plus my Uncle Tom, when he was not away in the service. It was a huge apartment, with one room for each our families. We finally were able to get an apartment for each of our families with kids, a year or two after the war ended. As we left Egleston Square the other morning, we saw Dunn’s Movers, the signs for Our Lady of Lourdes Church, which cousins Margie, Janet, and Bobby, my Aunt Getta and Uncle Bob attended, and finally Doyle’s Café.

On Sunday afternoons, we went to Sunday school at St. Mary of the Angels Church. (The top floor of the church was never built, only the basement.) It was on the corner of Walnut and Columbus avenues, I think. Sunday school ran from 2 to 3 p.m. Then we would run down the street to the Egleston Theatre to see two movies. I loved those with Maria Montez, Jon Hall, and Sabu. On Saturdays, Jackie, Jimmy and I would sometimes go to Franklin Park and run across the huge rocks while my parents, aunts, and uncles walked along the footpath. When I was very little, my Aunt Ethel had taken me to Franklin Park. We went to the lions’ and tigers’ houses. I invited a big black cat to come sit on Auntie’s lap. She told me, years later, that the pretty black cat was a panther. We always focused our attention on the Elephant House. I remember Molly, Waddy, and Tony. I think we collected change to help feed the trio. There was a Chinese Laundry on the corner of my street. When I brought my Dad’s shirts to the laundry, the owner would reward me with a chip off his large block of rock candy. What memories I had as Hubby and I drove through Egleston Square.

We rang the bell at the BNN Studio building and were admitted. We took the elevator upstairs and sat down. We realized that the building was formerly used by the Metropolitan Transit Authority. There were big pulleys and chains hanging from the ceiling to move heavy vehicles around the building. In came Annette, the woman from the Elderly Commission who was to host the program. We chatted for a few minutes and then went into the studio. We both had our microphones attached and then Annette began the program with a welcome to viewers. The program was to be 25 minutes long. It was the fastest 25 minutes I’ve ever experienced. Annette asked me how I started writing. I mentioned that my friend Nancy, who wrote for another Dorchester paper, became ill and asked me to jump in to write a column until she improved.

Ed Forry called in August of 1983, and asked if I would like to write for his new newspaper, The Dorchester Reporter. It was to be a monthly. I hesitated and then I figured that I could do a monthly column. Then the paper changed to every two weeks, then finally weekly as it became more popular. Annette asked how I got my news. “People call me to tell me,” I said. “I also go to many events so that I can write about them.” She didn’t know that I do the Birthdays’ column and the Neighborhood Notes column besides “The View from Pope’s Hill,” which is where I live. “I enjoy my work. That’s why I’m still there after 32 years.” Then the program was over, the 25 minutes had flown by. Annette told me that the program should appear on a Thursday in about two weeks.

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The following is something that appeared in St. Ann’s Church bulletin quite a few years ago, but it is still true: “”A smile’s a smile in any language.”