Beginning "My Life In Your Hands"

(Letters to and from Me)

Dear Mr. Hunt:

Hi! My name is Christina. I'm fourteen. Mr. Patenaude wants us to write you about ourselves and Central Falls.

Well, I'm writing to you now in Mr. Patenaude's class. The whole class is supposed to be writing you, but most of them are just goofing off. There's a kid named _________(left off--jeh) in front of the class who thinks he's God's gift to the school. He's stupid and corny and looks like he belongs in kindergarten.
(Well, just to give you an idea of what goes on here.)

I'm not going to bore you with unimportant details about C.F., okay? But (sic) I'll tell you about it. Remember "Jenks Park?" Well, it's not that great anymore. The tower is all vandalized and stuff.

You would probably be disappointed if you came back. The people here are confused and crazy. Well, enough about Central Falls.

I'd like you to understand what kind of person I am, okay? Well, I'm curious about things, and I like letters. So I hope we'll be pen pals for a while. I don't trust a lot of grown-ups, and I hate "know it alls." I like music, pizza, flowers, "The Oprah Winfrey Show," TV, and hanging out downtown shopping. I like pastel colors and white, ballet, eating, and being myself, even though I hate myself. I hope I get to know you a little more soon. I hope you get well soon!!! Bye.

Sincerely,

Christina


Dear Christina,

What a delight it was to receive your letter. I could picture you writing to me at your desk while all the others were just goofing off (so how come I got this big stack of letters to answer, huh?).

You better be careful about that kid named ________; sounds like you might have a little crush on him yourself. Life is funny that way; we start out trying to put someone down and find out we like them.

I'm sure you are right about me being disappointed were I to come back to Central Falls. We can never go back to a place and have it meet our expectations. That is why it so important that you and your classmates enjoy life now so you will have good times to look back upon (as I have today).

I like it when you say you are curious about things and like letters. That is a prerequisite to an interesting life. At your age, it's understandable that you don't trust a lot of grown-ups and, quite frankly, neither do I. It's refreshing to hear you admit it though, especially to an old man like me (forty-eight). I'm not really that old; it's my body that is that old. I'm as young as my mind; and I try to keep that young by being curious.

I used to live near the corner of Cross Street and Dexter Street, right across from Cavanaughs' Spa. On my side of Dexter, just down from my house, was a pizza parlor and a fish and chips store. We used to play the jukebox (Fats Domino, Paul Anka, etc.) while waiting for the best pizza in the world. They used to serve shakes there too.

I am not quite at death's door as Mr. Patenaude seems to have painted a picture of me. I did have heart surgery in 1979, but I'm okay now as long as I take my medicines daily. I cannot do physical work, however; hence, my propensity to write.

Do write to me again, Christina, and please call me John. The mister sounds too stuffy.

Your friend,

John E. Hunt




Dear John,

Hello, how are you? You don't know me, but my name is Pamela. I am in ninth grade, and fourteen years old. I go to the Central Falls High. I live on Garfield Street. Mister Patenaude told the class about you. Sorry to hear about the surgery, but I hope you are doing better.

I like to go over to my sister's house on Dexter Street. I also like boys. That's my hobby. I have three sisters and one brother. My life is okay, but it could be better.

Well, I have a cute Chihuahua named CoCo. He is brown and weighs around fifteen to twenty pounds. He is very mean to people he doesn't like or even know, but very loving to his family.

My parents are originally from Alabama, but have been living in C.F. all my life. They tell me about Alabama, but I have never been there. I wish to go one day. Maybe you know my father? His name is Douglas _________. He is a machinist. Well, I don't know what else to write so, I guess I will close. My address is: (left off--jeh)

Sincerely,

Pamela

P.S. Well, I hope you write back real soon.
Good-bye.


Dear Pamela,

I went to school with a Cary ________ in Argentia, Newfoundland, in 1958, but I don't think he was from the South, so he is probably not related to you since your parents come from Alabama. Alabama is my next-door neighbor, you know. They have much the same weather as we have here in Georgia but are more in the path of the hurricanes.

You say your sister lives on Dexter Street, but you don't say where. I used to live at 391 Dexter Street, across from Cavanaugh's Spa, near Cross Street. Does she live anywhere near there? So you have three sisters and one brother, but you don't say where you fit in. I have a hunch you are the youngest sister and have a younger brother to take care of (what a drag, huh?).

Oh well, at the age of fourteen, you have all your future ahead of you and it should be an interesting one if your hobby is boys, as you say. Just don't be hasty and rush to grow up too fast. The next four years of your life will be the most intense and memorable, so stretch them out as long as you can and make them very interesting.

Your dog, CoCo, doesn't sound much like a Chihuahua to me if it weighs fifteen to twenty pounds. Mind you now, his temperament sounds like a Chihuahua, but most of those only weigh around three pounds. I have a cocker spaniel named Lauren, five cats named Knobby, Little Knobby, Rusty, Misty, and Toby. I also have two parakeets, named Harry and Angel.

Garfield Street is a familiar name to me, so I probably have been on it before. As a matter of fact, a lot of the street names your classmates live on or mention sound very familiar, but I don't recall the topography of Central Falls, so I cannot orient myself. Perhaps if it wouldn't be too much of an imposition on you, you could ask someone to send me a local map or make it a class project and draw a simple one of the Central Falls area.

Of necessity, this will be a short letter because I have many more to answer. You all wrote to me at almost the same time, and I don't want to disappoint anyone, so I will answer all individually, but at the same time, hopefully, before the
Christmas school break (I don't think I will make it, though). Please feel free to share your letter with your classmates if you want. Should you later wish to continue our correspondence, I will write to you at your home address.

Please don't be disappointed because you are getting this letter in batch form, so to speak, at school. It is the only way I could think of to answer all letters in a timely manner and pass on a lot of information at the same time. In future, I will respond individually to the home address of each writer as promised.

I talked with my wife today and she says if things are going okay here next year, she will let me go to the thirtieth class reunion of the class of '59 (my old class). I would love to do that, and if I do, I will make it a point to personally visit the ninth grade class and thank them for making my life a little more interesting. That includes you, young lady.

Be good and be happy.

Your friend,

John E. Hunt



Dear Mr. John Hunt,

John, I hope you don't mind me calling you by your first name. My name is Jeannie. I'm now living in Central Falls, but I came from North Providence about three weeks ago, therefore I don't know much about Central Falls. My father, on the other hand, has been living in Central Falls all his life.

In Central Falls the recent things I have seen are: the school I am attending now, which is C.F.H.S., and I've been to my father's garage and the store down the street called Paulette's.

They no longer take basketball as the big entertainment of C.F. Football seems to be in now that it's the season for football.

I've been to Jenks Park a few times. I enjoyed myself. I live right next door to the park.

Since I came, I also met several people. In my opinion, Central Falls is a lot different than North Providence, and the school I attend now is also different.

I'm very glad to have had the opportunity to write to a man who knows a lot about a city I am new to. I will eagerly be waiting for your return letter.

Sincerely yours,

Jeannie


Dear Jeannie,

You don't have to worry about calling me John. I prefer that mode of address anyway; it makes me feel old when someone says mister. They say you are only as old as you feel (if that were true, I'd be 101) but I think it's all in the mind. My body is forty-eight, but my mind is as old as I want it to be and when I reminisce about old haunts and old friends and talk with someone of your tender years, I will my mind to become young again. You can do that when you write, you know? The years just melt away, and I am transported to that other me.

Your letter stands out, not because you are so new to Central Falls, but because of your address. You see, my first conscious memory of Central Falls is from a second-story window of an apartment on Washington Street. I must have been four or five years old, so that would put it at about 1944 or 1945. My father was in the Navy in the Pacific, and my mother was raising me and my brother by herself there on Washington Street. I was too young for school, but I used to watch for my brother to come home from first grade. The school was on Washington also and was a Catholic school, and we only spoke French. (My mother is Canadian French, and I didn’t speak English until I started second grade in another state--but that's another story.)

The walk up in that apartment was a very scary place for a four-year old, especially at night. I still have one very scary memory of a drunk asleep on the stairs grabbing my leg as I tried to pass him. His stubble beard on my leg (we wore knickers in those days) scared me but not half as much as I must have scared him when I screamed.

I remember going to the store with ration coupons to get butter and flour. There was a corner store (a tobacconist, I think, which might be the store you call Paulette's) I used to pass that store every day. It had an old wooden cigar store Indian statue out front and some old (to me) men used to sit outside on the steps and share a water pipe and the local gossip.

If I'm not mistaken, the streets were cobbled in those days. I remember the iceman delivering ice to the apartments. He'd haul large blocks of ice in his horse-drawn cart. The ice would be under burlap sacks. When you paid him for your ice, he would take his ice pick and chop off an appropriate amount of ice, grab it with his tongs and toss it over his shoulder, and carry it to your apartment. He wore a leather apron.

As you say in your letter, Jenks Park is only a stone's throw away from where you live. When I was young, the pool would be filled with water in the summer and all the little kids like me would play in it. The deepest part was less than three feet deep, what is now called a wading pool. I stubbed many a big toe running around the apron. It used to be pretty scenic to climb to the tower or the gazebo at the top of the rocks and look out and down at those in the park. I understand that it is a bit rundown now, but I'll bet I could still recognize it.

You say football is in season. Well, perhaps so. But if you knew Central Falls like I do, you would know that basketball is year round and the king of sport in that city. I think it always will be.

I certainly hope you will learn to love Central Falls as I did. It has got to be easier to get around than North Providence; it's a lot smaller, for one thing, and I believe it has an international flavor, what with its diversity of ethnic groups. That's what makes it so interesting.

Well, Jeannie, I want you to write to me again, but please don't make it a school project. It's very difficult answering all these letters at once. If you all spread your letters out over a period of time, I will have time to answer them directly to your address.

Until next time then,

Your new friend,

John E. Hunt



Hey John,

What's up? I've heard you've been sick. Well, it happens to all of us.

I've heard you haven't seen Central Falls in quite some time. Well, a lot of things changed. The high school is a lot bigger. It runs nine to twelve grades. No swimming pool or a track. Ashley playground is now Sacred Heart Park where I play basketball all the time with my out-of-school friends. There is no more pool, but there is a swell field where you can throw the football or play a game.

I live on Cross Street, which is a nice street. As far as I know, there are no bars on this street (present time).

Now in Central Falls are people of all races or color. If you want to live in Central Falls close together, it has a lot of Spanish, Colombian, white, Irish, Afro-Americans, Polish, and whatever else. That's good.

Although Central Falls is not so clean anymore, or the parks like Jenks Park are not well put together anymore. My mother said Central Falls lost its beauty. There are still many trees in Central Falls.

Remember that train station on Broad Street? Well, it's now a broken-down dump. No one wants to fix it up. It's a dangerous place to go. Bums live in there now. There is still the Blackstone River. I don't know if the Blackstone River was pretty clean back then, but now it's so dirty that if you fell in there, you'll probably die. It's so polluted by everything.

The taxes in Central Falls are the highest in the state. It is called Sparkle City, probably because there is a lot of drugs. But we are cutting the drugs down a lot in the past four years. You should come down and see Central Falls. It will be an interesting trip from Georgia. Just get better.

Bye,

Jim


Dear Jim,

If you are living where I think you are on Cross Street, then you are living in the same apartment building where my aunt and uncle lived in 1957. Is it on a downhill about halfway down the street on the left-hand side after you cross Broad? The address sounds very familiar, but I could be mistaken.

Central Falls High School never did have a swimming pool or track, but we kids always managed to stay in shape with some sport or other. For swimming, though, as I recollect, we used to go to a place called Lincoln Woods. We would ride our bikes, and it would be an all-day affair.

They changed the name of Ashley Park to Sacred Heart Park because of the church of the same name near there. From where I used to live on Dexter Street, I used to cut across to Jenks Park and over to Sacred Heart, which I believe is on Broad, and on down to Ashleys. Yeah, I know there is no pool there. The pool I was referring to in my letter was a wading pool at Jenks Park.

Sacred Heart Park, as it is now called, is where I used to do most of my basketball playing year-round. We used to shovel the snow off the court. There used to be a railroad track running next to the court, some swings, and most of it was just field. From your letter and others, it doesn't sound like it has changed that much.

Cross Street always was a nice tree-lined street from Dexter to Broad. It never had a bar on it. It is strange you should mention that, though. It brings to mind a story. There used to be a funeral home on the left-hand side of Cross, about halfway between Dexter and Broad. It had a fancy blue neon sign out front. I remember one evening that same uncle I alluded to earlier had visited me and my mom on Dexter Street and had availed himself of an abundance of alcohol at our place. My mother asked me to see him home when he left after dark.

Of course, we had to walk because he was in no condition to ride my bike. So with his arm draped across my shoulder, we started for lower Cross Street. Naturally we had to pass the funeral home and they had the neon sign on. You can guess what my uncle thought it was. I had a devil of a time to pass that place with him, but I managed to convince him that the only fluid he could get there was embalming fluid, and he was well on the way to that state of being anyway.

Yes, Jim, I do remember that train station on Broad. As a matter of fact, I caught a train there one time, but I don't remember the occasion. It was pretty rundown then too. Is it still in use? You mention the Blackstone River also. I remember as a kid walking downtown and across the Blackstone River Bridge to go to the movie house near there; especially on Saturdays! Those were the days when they had the best cartoons and also the continuation of the serials. You would be able to learn that the hero really didn't die in the previous episode, as you had thought, but was saved by some miracle or other.

The Blackstone and other rivers in our great nation have long been polluted by us. It will take a conscious effort on all our parts to reverse that trend. I do what I can through my writing to my representatives, and you should also. The more
people who express their concern for the environment in writing to their statesmen, the better chance of something being done about it. Also add the personal touch by not littering ourselves.

Drug abuse is a nasty happening, and it's a shame that C.F. has been saddled with that reputation. Central Falls is a small city and a disproportionate amount of drug traffic was found to be passing through there a couple of years ago. That is regrettable but should not stand in the way of cleaning up the city. It's a good city and the people who make a good city are inherently good. At least I shall always have fond memories of it. For your information, Jim, the class of '59 (the class I would have graduated with) is having a thirty-year class reunion next year. If I can make it, I will and I'll try to stop in and see Mr. Patenaude's class while there.

Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Your newly acquired friend,

John E. Hunt


Dear Mr. Hunt,

My name is Martin and I live on Fletcher Street next to Jenks Park. I just moved here and it's beautiful out here. I don't hardly know this place but it's wonderful. A lot of things have changed by the way Mr. Patenaude described it when you were here. A lot of stores have different names now. It's a nice place here in Rhode Island.

I have three sisters and one brother. I live with my mother and my cousin. I came from New York to live here and find a better life. We came to live with my aunt and cousin.

Enough about me how are you? I hope you're fine. How is it in Georgia? I heard it's wonderful.

Well, I have nothing else to say. I hope you write back soon, it's nice writing to you.

My address on Fletcher Street is a family house and I live in back. Write soon.

Your friend,

Martin



Dear Martin,

So you too are a transplant to Central Falls! It seems a lot of your classmates are also. That always makes for great diversity and makes life much more interesting, don't you think? I'm so happy to hear that you like C.F. I, too, have fond memories of that city as witnessed by this spate of correspondence over a period of absence in excess of thirty years.

You didn't mention where in New York you have come from, but I'm sure you are finding it quite a bit different living in a small city like Central Falls. Where on the ladder of siblings that you mention do you fit? Are you the oldest, youngest, or in between someplace? Did you all move to Rhode Island to live with your aunt and cousin at the same time? It sounds like you have a fairly large clan of kinfolk. Sometimes that's good and sometimes bad, depending on where you are on the ladder.

There was only my brother and me in our family and he had joined the navy by the time we returned to Central Falls and I enrolled in C.F.H.S. You might say I was an only child from the age of fifteen on, because my brother made a career of the navy, and the only time we were all together again after that was when we were all in the Navy in 1960 1961, and stationed in Virginia. We had a very disunited family life after that, with never any two of us being stationed at the same place.

You didn't ask, Martin, but since I am trying to pass out a few tidbits of information about my life there in Central Falls, I'm going to bore you a little now. I hope you aren't really bored, though, and if you pass this information on to your classmates, they might find some interest in it.

My first money-making job ever was acquired there in Central Falls. I don't recall exactly where it was located, but it was a Swift Meat Packing Plant. I worked there for two weeks, packing sausage. A skin would be placed over the outlet of the meat- grinding machine and when the grinder was turned on, the meat would be fed into the grinder at the top and would come out and fill the skin at the outlet. A man would twist the sausage into links, pile them into a cart, and take them to the freezer. That is where I worked, along with about five other boys during the summer. They gave us parkas to work in the freezer, but when you have to work with knives to cut the sausages into the proper length links, and then pack them into boxes with a see-through cellophane cover, you cannot wear gloves. Let me tell you, it got mighty cold in there and we had to take frequent trips outside to warm up. Sometimes it was so cold, we would cut ourselves and not notice it until someone spotted the blood on the sausages. It usually was just wiped off and packaged anyway. Believe me I didn't eat sausages for over twenty years after that experience. The reason I only worked there two weeks? I caught bronchial pneumonia. If anyone knows where that place is and is thinking of getting a job there, take my advice and don't.

My next job was a lot more lucrative. I worked for W.T. Grant on Broad Street. Actually, I was a stock boy and worked in the warehouse diagonally across the street from Grant's and on a slight uphill on the left. This other stock boy and I would load merchandise on dollies, take it down the hill and across Broad Street, into the store and to the appropriate floor and department. It was a rough job but a muscle-builder also. It taught me to be nimble when crossing Broad Street during the rush hour. The lucrative part was that at Christmas, I got a discount on a model train set that I gave to my cousin. That made a nice Christmas for him and made me feel good too.

It doesn't get as cold in Georgia as it does in Rhode Island. We have a little snow every year but seldom more than a half to three inches. It is usually gone in three or four days. The bad thing about snow here in the South, though, is that most drivers do not know how to drive on it and we have a lot of accidents. Most of the schools close if we get more than an inch. Doesn't sound like New England weather, does it? I like it because I really don't like the long New England winters.

Well, I'll say good-bye for now because I have to write to the others also. I hope you have learned a little about me and C.F. during my day and maybe you will come to appreciate your city and its environs more. It really hasn't changed much that I can tell.

Thanks again for writing Martin, and write again soon.

Your new friend,

John E. Hunt



Dear John,

Hi, I'm Pamela and I live on the corner of Summer Street and Fuller Avenue. I'm a ninth grader in C.F.H.S. The school is pretty much the same but now there's not only basketball, there's soccer, football, cheerleading, volleyball and wrestling.

I heard you were a basketball player. You must have been really good if your team always won. Mr. Patenaude...wanted us to write to you. I guess all of us are writing to you.

The street you used to play basketball on is now called Sacred Heart Avenue. It must have been fun playing ball from morning ’til night.

There are mostly new teachers. A lot of the old teachers retired. The classrooms are the same. There's a new part of the building now, but it still looks the same.

Well, hope to hear from you.

Sincerely yours,

Pamela




Dear Pamela,

Thank you for taking the time to write to me and telling me some of the changes in Central Falls since I was there.

Yes, it was fun to play basketball year round and I was good. Unfortunately, I was only good enough to make second string. The big guns were those you saw pictured in the newspaper clipping I sent you. The last year I played, 1957, our team was runner-up for state championship but was beaten by URI. The year of the picture, 1959, as the article states, C.F.H.S. won the state championship. It has always fielded a good basketball team that I know of, but we didn't always win.

The CYO (City Youth Organization) in Central Falls has always been active in supporting youth activities year round and that is why the school always had good athletes.

I expected that most of my old teachers would be retired by now so that doesn't come as a surprise. What I don't understand, though, is why nobody seems to have any idea as to if they are still alive and would be interested in hearing from me. I sure would like to hear from them.

I understand that a Mr. Jack Keough is a teacher in the area. He is the son of my old Geometry teacher there at C.F.H.S. The thing I most remember about the elder Mr. Keough is his uncanny ability to draw near-perfect circles on the chalkboard free handed. He had a compass for that purpose but never used it.

Do you like school Pamela? You didn't tell me too much about yourself so how can I get to know you? Perhaps you'll fill in the gaps in your next letter huh? At any rate, write again soon if you want to, but loosen up some kid. Don't make it a chore, but a pleasure. I enjoyed hearing from you.

Your friend,

John E. Hunt



Dear Mr. Hunt,

Hi, I'm fourteen years old and my name is Wendy. I live on Hunt Street in Central Falls and go to C.F. Jr/Sr. High School. I'm in the ninth grade.

I have lived here almost all my life. I love Central Falls. I would never want to move. I like it because it's full of different kinds of people. It's not just an ordinary city. There are Spanish, Portuguese, French, English, and a lot of other different kinds of people.

Our mayor is Carlos Silva. He might be fixing up the playgrounds and making them better and safer. There are a lot of new houses going up in Central Falls, too.

There is this good music group called the "Jets!" A radio station was having a contest to see what school the Jets would do a concert for. So we had to write on a little piece of paper to the radio station, and the school with the most papers, the Jets would go to that school. Rhode Island is the smallest state and Central Falls is the smallest city in Rhode Island, but we did it. The Jets gave a concert in the gym of C.F.H.S. in 1987. We won because it is the most spirited school in Rhode Island!

Well, I have to go now! Got to go! Bye!
Oh, P.S. Please write back to me and tell me about yourself!

Yours truly,

Wendy

DON'T WORRY BE HAPPY
(draws picture)



Dear Wendy,

I loved your little smiling face you drew at your complimentary close. It has been a long time since I got a drawing like that on any letter. Thank you also for the newsy-type letter.

It's nice that you like Central Falls and the ethnic diversity it has to offer. A lot of people are racial bigots and don't understand that the ethnic background and culture that is a composite factor in the make up of the city of Central Falls is what makes it such a great and interesting place to live. It is what has held a grip on my memories lo these many years.

You mentioned your mayor, Carlos Silva. I know him. We used to play together as boys in Jenks Park. He used to be called "Chick" back then, but the reason escapes me today. I think it had something to do with his good looks. I had a crush on one of his sisters; they were good-looking too. I hope he is a good mayor and helps Central Falls become even nicer in the future. I hear from another friend of mine that Mr. Silva has been mayor for the past six years. He must be doing something right.

I suppose belated congratulations are in order for your school being picked for the Jets to perform in last year. It is the spirit of the kids who make up the student body of Central Falls High School that makes it such a good school. Keep up the good work.

I've been on Hunt Street, but I cannot recollect where it is at the moment. Hopefully, I will soon have a map of the city to orient myself after my long absence.

Tell me, what is the name of the large church at the far end of Dexter Street, coming from downtown Pawtucket into Central Falls? Is it Notre Dame? There used to be a school on the right-hand side of Dexter Street, just before getting to that church. I don't remember the name of the school, but it had a wrought-iron fence around it and in 1952 1953, the Boy Scout troop I belonged to used to hold their weekly meetings in the basement of that school.

I had just moved to Central Falls from Guantanamo Bay Cuba, at that time. In Cuba, the Boy Scouts were quite active. We went camping a lot, hiking and of course practiced our knot- tying and even built signal towers and rope bridges and such like.

In 1951, just before coming back to the States, the navy took our whole troop aboard three of their ships to visit Jamaica for two weeks during a Boy Scout Jamboree. We toured the Island and met other Scouts from all over the world. We played a softball game against some Jamaican girls who were supposed to be the same age as we were, but they were head and shoulders taller than most of us Scouts. They won but we had a great time anyway. I still have pictures of that event lying around in my scrapbooks someplace.

The reason why I mentioned all the above is because when we returned to C.F. and my brother and I joined the Scouts in the basement of that school, it was really a let-down that they weren't as active as we had been. All we did was practice our knots and take an occasional hike to Lincoln Wood. I sure hope the scouting picture has improved somewhat from those days.

By now you are probably saying to yourself "Why is he telling me all this? I'm not going to go out and join the Boy Scouts?" I know that, Wendy, but I'm hoping you will pass along these little nuggets of information to your classmates.

I notice you have a French name. Do you speak the language? My mother was Canadian French, and I didn't learn English until I started school. I have had two years of high school French (one in Central Falls) but sad to say, I cannot carry on a conversation in that lovely language today.

For now, I will say good-bye, but please do write to me again, Wendy.

A new friend,

John E. Hunt



Dear Mr. Hunt,

Hi, how are you doing? Central Falls is really a great place to me. I wouldn't want to move for anything.

I saw the photo you sent in the mail. I know two of the people. Allie LaChanch hangs around with my mother's boyfriend, Roland _________. Maybe you know him. I also know Chick Silva, of course, he's the mayor.

I moved to Central Falls six and a half years ago. I was scared at first because I moved here in the middle of third grade. I moved from Pawtucket, and I really missed my friends. I have lots of friends now, and I really like Central Falls High.

Did you play many sports at the high school? I was supposed to play basketball for the Lady Warriors, but I decided to just wait a year and keep up with my studies.

Could you please write back and tell me some more about you?

Thank you,

Sherrie




Hello Sherrie,

Thank you for taking the time to write me and tell me a little bit about yourself and Central Falls. I'm glad you too like the city, and yes, I know it must have been scary for you to move to a new school and area. It is always difficult losing old friends and making new ones in a new environment. You seem to have done okay, though. Besides, Pawtucket is only a hop, skip, and jump away, and you can always visit your old neighborhood and old friends.

Your mention of Allie LaChanch and asking me about what sports I played while at C.F. brings back a lot of memories. I played basketball mostly, as did most of the boys at C.F. but the ones in the picture that you see were the cream of the crop of basketball players during my day. I did, however, play baseball also, and Allie LaChanch used to be my main pitcher. Frank Juchnik, who is also in the picture, was the back-up pitcher. I was the catcher, and I like to think, a good one. At least I was the only one who would volunteer for that position among our crowd.

It is hard for the catcher to strap on all that extra gear when his team is in the field, catch for half an inning, and then be able to hit and run the bases during the next half-inning. That is why when you see a good hitting catcher he is really a good athlete. As I said, I didn't hit too well during games, but during warm-ups and practice sessions, I used to hit flies and grounders to the boys in the field. I could hit long distances and place the ball exactly where I wanted it to go.

Getting back to Allie, he was our star pitcher and could really put a lot of stuff on that ball. Batters had a hard time hitting him because they never knew what he would throw next. It was an elaborate set of hand signals we had worked out between us. To be honest, though, I would have to admit that Allie didn't always throw what I had signaled him to throw and what he nodded approval of. Sometimes he was as surprised at where the ball would go as I was. I don't believe our baseball team was ever the caliber of our basketball team, but we had fun anyway.

You probably think it is strange that I'm telling you about a baseball team that played ball over thirty years ago in Central Falls. Remember though, you did ask and since you do know Allie LaChanch, perhaps it will be of some interest to you. As a matter of fact, the next time you see him, tell him about me and see what sort of reaction you get. I'm sure he will remember me. That leads me to our next topic, which is that Allie, me, and Jim Panichas and, I think, Hank Dugan had formed a sort of barbershop quartet and used to practice singing in Jenks Park. We had worked up a nice little ditty, which we practiced over and over to make the harmony sound good. For the life of me, I cannot remember what the tune was though. Maybe Allie remembers it, so ask him, huh?

This might be a sore spot with him because I left Central Falls in 1957 to go to Argentia, Newfoundland, and when I returned for a short visit in 1959 on my way to Virginia, I attended a basketball game at the high school. I remember Allie and Jim and several others sitting on the top seat of the bleachers behind me, and I think I was sitting with Frank. Allie, et al., kept singing that song to catch my attention, which they did, but I didn't join them and I think they got peeved. I have always felt bad about that and should have apologized to them after the game, but I left without doing so. I hope he does not still hold a grudge against me for that. Perhaps I will have a chance to find out if I see him.

So long for now Sherrie. I've got to write someone else now. I hope all of you are sharing the non personal parts of these letters I write. I try to make them as interesting as I can without getting too personal. I'd love to hear from you again, and soon I hope.

Your friend,

John E. Hunt



Dear Mr. Hunt,

Hi, how are you? I hope well. My name is Sue. I'm fourteen and a half years old. My birthday is in January. I have no brothers or sisters, so you could say that my life is sort of lonely. I live with my mom and dad and my pet cat named Qtay. I made that name up myself, so you might think it's weird.

My nationality is Portuguese. I was born in the country of Portugal in the state of Madeira in the city of Funchal. It's really beautiful there. I've only lived here for six years. I came here when I was eight years old. My family in Portugal is my grandparents and aunts and uncles.

I live on Hunt Street. There's a tailor shop named Hunt's Tailor, and across the street from that is a gas station down where Washington Street is called Azar's. Oh, we also have Robertson Middle School.

So, do you do anything for a living? Is it nice there where you live in Augusta? What's the difference from Augusta now and Central Falls then?

Do you have any children, if so, how old? Are you even married? Did everything go good with the operation?

My mom had an operation. She had breast cancer, so they had to remove it. It was sad but that was like four years ago. Now she doesn't have no more cancer. The only problem she has now is high blood pressure.

So did you play any sports here in C.F. High? I'm going to try out for the volleyball team. I hope I make it, I like that sport a lot.

The only really good place there is to hang out here is the Community Center on Cowden Street, but not that many people go there. There is this other place called Higgison on Higgison Avenue, which Mr. Patenaude recalls not being here thirty years ago. People go there to play basketball, baseball, football, soccer, and hockey.

Well, I hope you get a chance to write back and please tell me about yourself. Thank you for your time.

Your friend,

Susan



Dear Sue,

You write an interesting letter, so it was a pleasure hearing from you. Susanna ________, is one of your classmates, and is from Portugal also. If she hasn't read her letter yet, get with her and read all the nice things I have to say about that country.

My, but you are at a magic age. I notice you say you are fourteen and a half years old. Why is it that most girls always add the half? I think you are in a hurry to grow up. My daughter did the same thing at that age. As a matter of fact, she started adding the half when she turned thirteen. Don't be in too much of a hurry to become an adult, Susan. The next four years are going to be the most memorable for you, so please don't rush them. It won't be very long before you will not want to tell people how old you are.

My daughter, too, is an only child and is in her first year of college here in Augusta. When she was younger, she was lonely also and wanted a brother or sister. Unfortunately, my wife and I were unable to oblige, but I convinced her that she had the best of it because she didn't have to share her things with siblings. Which is true of course, but she got all our love and all our attention and as a consequence, I think we spoiled her too much I'm afraid. I hope that doesn't happen to you.

Qtay is an odd name, but it shows originality. We also have cats (5), and a cocker spaniel, and two parakeets. I mentioned that in another letter, so I won't go into details here.

What I do for a living now is read, write, and reminisce mostly like this when I'm not puttering about the house. You see, Sue, I have heart and lung disease from being stupid enough as a young boy to start smoking. It was the macho thing to do in my day, and my parents didn't put up too much of a fuss when they found out. I wish they had now, but they didn't. All the facts about how harmful smoking was were not known in my day. Praise God they are known now, and I hope all you youngsters avoid the temptation to smoke just to show how grown up you can be. It's a dirty habit.

I had open-heart surgery in 1979 to bypass two clogged arteries. One of the bypasses closed up the following year, so I was discharged from the United States Army and now live on my disability pension, Social Security, and a Veterans Administration offset of my military retirement pay. I am not poor, and I don't live from hand to mouth day by day. That is to say, I make enough to get by on, but who is there who would be willing to say they can't use more income? To that end, I'm contemplating writing a book about my life. I'm not famous but I think the life I have led has been a very interesting one and one that may sell books if it is written well enough. Part of my story will be about my life in Central Falls also because I have strong roots in that city.

Oh yes, I have had some work published but not nationally. Mostly it has been just editorials in magazines or newspapers.

Augusta is not like Central Falls at all. The weather is milder here year around, and everything is spread out so that one simply must have a car to get around and do any shopping. We never had a car when I lived in C.F., and it wasn't needed because everything was within walking distance of where I lived on Dexter Street.

Good luck on your efforts to get on the volleyball team. That is a good sport and one that I enjoyed while in the Army. I am only five foot, six inches tall, though, and although I could spike the ball at the net if properly set up, I have had many a ball spiked directly down upon the tips of my outstretched fingers. This caused a lot of sprained joints and the arthritis I suffer from today in my fingers.

Write again soon, Sue, and I'll try to answer sooner next time if I don't get swamped under a large pile of correspondence first.

Your new friend,

John E. Hunt



Dear Mr. Hunt,

Hi, my name is Heather, I live on Couden Street. I am sixteen years old. I have six brothers and sisters, all older than me. My father passed away two years ago. I have a job at Kentucky Fried Chicken on Broad Street. I like it because all of my friends work there.

I hope you feel a lot better soon. My grandma is sick. She just got out of the hospital, like two weeks ago. She lives in Maine (Seal Harbor). My mother is up there with her. Me and my sister Angela have to pick my mother up this weekend. I just finished my thirty hour course to get my permit.

Well, Central Falls has changed so much. It used to be quiet and now it is so noisy.

Well, I hope you feel better.

Your friend,

Heather




Dear Heather,

Thank you for writing to me and telling me about yourself, family, and the Central Falls environs. You do indeed come from a large family and if you are the baby, I would have expected you to be spoiled by your older siblings. From the tone of your letter, though, that doesn't appear to be the case. You sound like a lovely young lady who is preparing for her future by not only going to school but working part-time and, I hope, saving some of your money.

There were no Kentucky Fried Chicken fast-food places in my days in C.F. Where on Broad did they build it? Is the thirty hours you mentioned that it took to get your permit - a permit to drive or to work at said fast-food place? If it is to drive, did you take driver's education at C.F.H.S.? I did, and my civics teacher, a Mr. Corrigan, is the one who taught me. He no longer teaches there, I understand. That man was quite a guy and one of my favorite teachers.

I was sorry to hear of the loss of your father and your grandmother's sickness. I have relatives from Maine also, but not from Seal Harbor. They live in Sabatus and Lewiston. I haven't seen or heard from them in years and could just as easily pass them on the street and not recognize them. I've been a long time gone from that neck of the woods. Maine is a lovely state, though, and the people are nice.

I want to tell you a little something about my life now and hope you can find it of interest. I assume you have had a little history about Teddy Roosevelt, his Rough Riders, and the attack on San Juan Hill in Cuba. Well, I met one of the men who landed with Mr. Roosevelt in Cuba and participated in that attack. Here is how it came about.

In 1950 and 1951, my father, who was in the Navy and stationed at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, ran the golf pro shop at the golf course. Just above the golf club in the hills, there was a riding stable where one could go and rent a horse for fifty cents an hour to go horseback riding. My brother and I used to do this regularly, and the trails led down from the hills and around the edge of the golf course and back to the stables.

Those horses were well trained. You can imagine kids who had never been on a horse but had watched many Hopalong Cassidy, Lash Larue, and Roy Rogers and Dale Evans movies and the horses never, but never walked. We thought the horses were supposed to run all the time, so the minute we had paid our fare and were hoisted into the saddle, we would kick the horse and he would oblige by trotting off obediently along the trail away from the stables. Of course, he couldn't keep a running pace and would slow down after about five minutes.

Invariably, the out leg of the journey was always the fastest. On the return, all the imprecations and cajoling in the world could not make the horse go above a walk. Naturally, we would be late getting back to the stables and would have to pay
an additional fee. I told you those horses were well trained, didn't I?

I'll bet you think I am digressing from the story about the man who rode with T.R. Well, I'm not because the man who broke the horses and trained them at those stables, was an old black man about sixty years old. He is the man to whom I am referring. He used to tell us kids stories by the hour, but sorry to say, I didn't listen as well as I should have because he was a part of history in the making.

It appears that during or after the attack on San Juan Hill, this gentleman got separated from his comrades. He may have found a place to hide until it was all over, for all I know. I remember he told us that he was left stranded in Cuba after all the others had left. In effect, he was a castaway.

I didn't place too much credence in his story at the time. Years later, in 1968 to be exact, while I was in the Army and stationed with the Forth Squadron, Twelfth Cavalry, at Fort Carson, Colorado, an article came out in the paper about him that verified his story. Yes, he was in his late seventies and still breaking horses at the riding stables at Guantanamo. From what I gather, the Roosevelt pullout from Cuba was a bit hasty, and he was listed as missing in action. He was restored to the living at that time and paid all back wages due him.

I hope you found that little tidbit of history enlightening and remember, it's the God's truth.

Do write me again, Heather. You write a nice letter.

Your friend,

John E. Hunt



Dear Mr. Hunt,

Hello! My name is Jennifer. I am fourteen years old in the ninth grade at C.F.H.S. I live on Central Street, a couple of houses away from the Public Library. Do you know where that is?

I heard about you in Mr. Patenaude's English class. I love Central Falls, I would never think about living anywhere else. I've been living here for ten and a half years. I moved here from New York when I was four years old.

My family is from Colombia. At home we speak Spanish. I am the only one in my family that was born in America. I was born in November, 1974.

I'll tell you what I like to do in life. I love dancing and listening to music; writing to people and reading novels. What do you like to do?

Things have changed a lot since you were here last. Jenk's Park clock tower is broken and is being repaired now. The park has been polluted with garbage and drugs.

I hope someday you can come back and see how much it has changed.
I must leave you now. When you write back, please tell me how Central Falls was when you lived here and much more about yourself. Bye!

Yours truly,

Jennifer


Hi Jennifer,

Gee, you could be a clone of mine as far as your likes and dislikes are concerned. At least that's the way I read your letter. You like dancing, music of almost any kind, reading and writing also. My foremost pastime used to be reading, but since my eyes have gotten worse because of the medicines I take and, alas, I must admit, advancing age, I prefer to do more writing than reading. Also, my dancing days are over because it's very hard to do that gracefully when you have to hobble with a cane.

Yes, I do know where the public library is on Central Street. I spent many of my days after school there picking out books to read. At that time my interest was mostly science fiction, so I'll bet you probably can still find some of the books I signed out back in 1956 1957 if their records go back that far and they probably do. I was into Heinlein, Burroughs, Asimov, Frank Herbert, and a host of others. I liked a lot of the Zane Grey westerns and pioneering stories, also. I guess I was what you might call a romantic with a visionary view. I lived in the past and the future.

If you speak Spanish at home, stick with it. It's very nice to be bilingual and will stand you in good stead in later life should you do any traveling.

I spoke French as a boy, but unfortunately, when I entered public schools at the various addresses I've lived, we only spoke English. I can still speak a smattering of French and a little Spanish I picked up in Cuba, and Korean and German, which I
learned in those countries. Mind you, I couldn't carry on a
conversation, but I could make my basic needs known enough to survive until I picked up more of the language.

By now, if things are going as I had envisioned when I began writing to you and your classmates, you have all been sharing parts of my story, so I try not to repeat anything I've told others. I will say once more, though, that I don't think Central Falls has changed all that much from my days there. At least, it doesn't seem to have changed much according to the letters I've been getting from you all. It has always been made up of diverse nationalities, and I personally think that is what makes it a great place.

Now I have to decide what to tell you about my life that I think makes it worth repeating. Continue then, and we shall see.

I plan, when I have all these letters written, to have a chronological list made up for Mr. Patenaude to hand out to everyone so you can place my whereabouts at any given time during the narrative of my life. This list will detail from year to year, exactly where I was and will help me later in writing and assembling it into a story that follows a natural sequence.

Of course you will notice from the letters I have written thus far, that I have left out most of my military duties. That is because I don't know if girls and boys of your age would be interested. I know my own daughter never was interested in what I did in the military, but that may be a case of her not being able to see the trees because she was in the forest. At any rate, if anyone is interested in hearing about a particular place on the chronology or what I did at that time that may have been of interest, please feel free to write me and ask and I will write directly to you at home. Don't make it a class project! That way I will bore the least amount of people.

Got sidetracked again, didn't I, Jennifer? I do that a lot when I'm writing, so bear with me. I got something for you also.

Blowfish! Right; I knew that would catch your eye! You know what those things are, don't you? When we lived in Guantanamo Bay Cuba in 1950-1951, we lived in Quonset huts at a place called Bargo Point. It was built on a peninsula of coral that stuck out into the bay. A Quonset hut looks like a large corrugated, tin drainage ditch, cut in half, turned upside down, and having doors and windows. The peninsula extended out over a huge expanse of salt flats, which led to a mangrove swamp.

We kids used to walk out across those flats and usually we would find old, tarnished, salt-coated ammunition, shells and links, which had been discarded during the Spanish American War of 1898. (That's the one we got in when the battleship Maine was sunk in Havana harbor.) Sometimes the shells were embedded in the flats to form names or dates.

You're probably asking by now "How did we get on the salt flats and what does this have to do with blowfish, right?" Well, we were crossing to the mangrove swamp because there was an old, sunken, rusted-out ship in there that we used to fish from and just about the only thing we ever caught were gars, barracuda, or blowfish. Now those blowfish were funny fish. They had two very big top teeth in front that you had to be careful of when removing the hook. When you pulled them from the water, they would suck in air and blow up their bodies, I assume, to scare away predators (us). They weren't good for eating or anything else that I've ever heard of, and the skin was tough like leather. We just caught them to see them blow up.

Now isn't that interesting? Did you notice how I snuck in a little bit of history there? Ya gotta watch me, I'm terribly tricky.

Jennifer, you sound like a great girl and you certainly write an interesting letter. Please do continue to correspond with me. I do have to cut this letter short here, though, and get on with the next one. I wonder what I will say in that one?

Your new friend,

John E. Hunt



Dear Mr. Hunt,

Hi! How are you? I'll bet you're wondering why a total stranger is writing to you. Don't ask. When you have Mr. Patenaude for an English teacher, you do strange things. Just kidding! He's a great guy, isn't he? But he piles us up with homework every night! Don't tell him I said so, okay?

Well, we've got good teachers here in Central Falls High; most of them are anyway, except ________, but that's a different story. I think I speak for the whole ninth grade class when I say Mr. ___________ is our favorite teacher. He's cool.

Guess what? We now have the kindergarten classes in our school, and I get to help out with one every other day. They're so cute!

I love this school and Central Falls! I wouldn't want to move. I've had too many good times here. It's too bad C.F. has a bad reputation, because it's really a great little town. In the four years I've lived here (I used to live in Connecticut), I have never seen any drugs or hookers. Oh, sure, there are some kidnapping and things, but what city doesn't? By the way, a couple of months ago a seven year old girl was missing and they found her body near a river or something with her clothes neatly folded beside her. Gross, isn't it?

They changed the movie theater on Broad Street to a Christian Life Center. Now if we want to see a movie, we have to go to Four Seasons or Lincoln Mall. Lincoln Mall is where all the cool Shea or Tolman high school kids hang out and if they see you in your Central Falls High jackets, they turn around and walk in the other direction. No respect these days, huh?

How is Georgia? It must be nice down there. I have a friend who used to live in Georgia. Is that where the space shuttle thing is or NASA? I can't keep up with these things. My brother is the expert on NASA. Oh, I read about things like that, but you know how it is. Actually, I'll read (or write!) anything. You can usually find me with my nose buried in a book or scribbling away in one of my notebooks!

Well, I better be going now. I hope you write back soon.

Very sincerely yours,

Carla



Dear Carla,

Yours is the first letter I opened actually, but after I read all the letters, I decided to just stack them up and answer them one at a time and mail them all at once. You probably have been disappointed in not getting an answer right away, so I hope this method of acquainting you with me through the various letters of your classmates as well as this one, has piqued your curiosity and we will continue to correspond later.

You write a lovely letter, Carla, and I will try to answer your queries and make this letter interesting for you also. One thing you should be cautioned against doing though, is never, presume to talk for the whole ninth grade class. While I'm sure that Mr. __________ is everything you say he is, you will find that someone else in the ninth grade has a different opinion of him. No two people have the same impressions of any other third. That is an axiom that will stand you in good stead to remember.

On to bigger and better things; or smaller things, to be precise. You say the kindergarten classes are at the school too. Well, that is a big change. What do you mean when you say you get to help out with one every day? Is it something like a day-care center in the school and the older student, like you, get to volunteer as aides during the day? If that is the case, they have some programs down here similar to it.

I think it is a great idea because it frees the little ones' mommies during the day and gives the students practical, hands-on experience handling youngsters of that age. Of course the students who are helping (you in this case) would have to be carefully screened and in some cases, trained to handle tots like that. If that's the kind of program they have and you are helping, you deserve some kudos from your peers and I hope you are getting them.

The movie house on Broad Street that you say is now a Christian Life Center is one I went to often as a kid. I mentioned it in another letter to one of your classmates, which may or may not have been read yet. Suffice it to say that I spent many a Saturday afternoon matinee there, and I'm sure some other kids have fond memories of that theater also. Lincoln Mall is a new one on me; they didn't have such an animal when I was there. No, Carla, Georgia is not the home of NASA, but you get a cigar for being close, ha, ha. Actually it is one state farther south. NASA is located in Florida, but I'm glad you brought that up.

Isn't it great that we have now reentered the space picture with the resumption of the shuttle flights? The Challenger disaster in 1986 was a real blow to our nation. It was a personal affront to me, because ever since I was your age, I've dreamed of living to see a colony in space or on one of the planets. That is man's destiny, to go to the stars. I truly believe that. Unfortunately, it doesn't look like I will see that fulfillment come true. You and your peers should see it, though, and I hope all of you become aware of that and prepare now by getting the appropriate education and experience.

Blah! I just re-read this letter, and I'm beginning to sound like an old fuddy-duddy, aren't I? I'm probably putting everyone to sleep, so I'll change the subject (say thank you).

What would interest Carla? You like to read, you say? Have you ever read Catch-22 by Joseph Heller? If you get a chance, get the book. It will have you in stitches. I won't go into details because you or someone else might want to get the book, so I don't want to spoil the story. It takes place at the end of W.W. II and concerns an American bomber squadron stationed on a small island off the coast of Italy. The hero's philosophy of existence did impress me, however, and might interest you.

The hero is named Yossarian. Catch 22 refers to the fact that whenever he has to do something, he is damned if he does it or damned if he doesn't do it (in his eyes anyway). You can read that as having to make a decision when a crossroad in life is stumbled upon. The way in which Yossarian handles his existence on that island is hilarious, and I strongly recommend this book for anyone wishing a good read.

I'm going to call it a night for now and go to the kitchen and make myself some cheese snacks, have a soda, and sit down and watch some of Larry King's program. Until next time then, this is

Your friend,

John E. Hunt


Dear Mr. Hunt,

Hi, my name is Brett. I live on Tremont Street. I have lived there all my life. I am now fourteen years old and I will be fifteen in February. This is my first year at C.F.H.S. and I am a freshman.

From the first through the eighth grade, I went to Holy Trinity School. So far, I like it a lot at my new school and my grades are pretty good. I like all the teachers here and I am in all - A classes.

I live with both parents and have four sisters and one other brother. They are all older than me and have all graduated from school.

Central Falls is still a very fine city, with hardly no trouble anywhere except Sylvian and Garfield, which I think are the worst two streets in the city. Well, this is just some of the stuff about Central Falls these days.

I hope you will tell me about yourself. If you intend to write back to me, my address will be on the envelope.

Your friend,

Brett



Dear Brett,

So you, too, are the baby of your family, so to speak, by being the last born. At least you come from a fairly large family. There was only my brother and me in mine, and he left for the Navy when I was your age. Are any of your other siblings still at home? I notice you say they have all finished school. Did any of them go on to college? They should, but if not, then you ought to make the effort because it will round out your personality and give you a good start on the ladder of success in life. Enough lecturing, on with the story:

I'm happy that you like C.F.H.S. and hope you continue to do well there. For now, however, I'm going to take you a little farther south and transport you back to 1951 and Montego Bay, Jamaica. We (the Boy Scouts) had just arrived there aboard three U.S. Navy ships from Cuba for a Jamboree.

We anchored in the bay because they had no facilities to handle warships port side. The plan was to transport us Scouts ashore by longboat. We were close enough in, though, that we could see the activity along the shoreline quite plainly. That isn't what held our attention, however.

The waters of Montego Bay at that time were crystal clear and though there must have been four fathoms (twenty-four feet) of freeboard beneath our keel, one could clearly see the bottom. Even before we dropped anchor, the small boats and dugouts put out from shore to rendezvous with us. When they reached us, some of the larger boats had craftsmen and merchants aboard who proceeded along the hull and attempted to hawk their wares to the sailors and passengers lining the rails.

What caught most eyes however, were the smaller craft that began circling us. The occupants, who were mostly young men without a stitch of clothes, and black as polished ebony, began calling for coins to be thrown to them. When coins were tossed in the water near them, several would dive in after the coin and the water was so clear, you could follow their progress until they had retrieved a coin. They usually caught it before it hit bottom. They would stick it in their mouth and surface amid the cheers of the onlookers. What marvelous swimming abilities they had! Those activities occupied us for a couple hours, and then we were notified to get ready to go ashore, so we packed and boarded the longboats.

Ashore, we divided into more manageable-sized groups for the scoutmaster and chaperons to handle, agreed on a time and place to meet for the afternoon meal (The Pirates' Den Restaurant and Bar, of which I'll tell more shortly), and proceeded to disperse to all points of the compass to do some souvenir-hunting. Once we were in smaller groups, we became targets for the pickpockets, and some did lose valuables, but we had been warned and most of us came through unscathed.

This was my first lesson in how to haggle price over an article one wished to purchase. Overseas, one never pays the price the merchant is asking, but one must bargain for a lower price or the merchant will not have much respect for you. It is the norm, even among locals. The merchant seldom loses out anyway, because he generally starts his price range at a ridiculously high level, and by the time a price is agreed upon, he still gets a profit and you are satisfied that you got a bargain. It is a shrewd form of business and one that most Americans are not comfortable with (a fact not lost on the local merchants).

I got what I thought was a bargain and still have some of the articles to this day. A baby stuffed alligator (which has since lost part of its tail and a leg) now graces a spot under the fireplace logs in my phony fireplace. It scares the cats when they spot it. Some hand-carved coaster sets, with Jamaican coins embedded in them, are seldom used because they warp if they get wet. They make good decorations (make that dust-catchers, if you're my wife) on festive occasions. I have some carved bamboo vases and coconut shells and several large conch shells.

After shopping, we all gathered at the Pirates' Den for lunch. The motif was lavishly tropical in nature, with miniature waterfalls, palm trees, and other shrubbery. They even had several large and colorful parrots sitting on perches throughout the restaurant. Occasionally these birds would let out a raucous cacophony of sound or say something deliciously naughty. The main draw of the place, though, was the super-large treasure chest on the stage, which opened up to reveal a small combo inside. They proceeded to play Latin rhythm throughout the meal.

Can you picture the setting, Brett? Those certainly were marvelous days! More later, so stay in touch.

Your friend,

John E. Hunt



Dear Mr. John Hunt,

Hi, how is your life in Georgia. Well, I'm a ninth grader at C.F.H.S. I heard you were on the basketball team here.

Well, we won the class C state title two years ago. I play football here and I'm going to play baseball too.

Did you know that Carlos Silva is our mayor?

I live on Illinois Street. Do you remember where the fire station used to be, if yes or no? Now it is on my street. They moved it from Broad Street.

Well, I hope I get to know you.

Sincerely,

Alex




Dear Alex,

Yes, I remember where the fire station used to be on Broad, but if it's been moved to Illinois now, I cannot recall that street. I suppose as long as they are able to get to a fire in their area of responsibility, it doesn't really make too much difference, except maybe for the noise when answering an alarm. Are you bothered much by that?

I'm going to gamble and hope you want to go to Cuba with me. So let's go back now to 1950 and Bargo Point, Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. We lived in the enlisted housing, which was a Quonset hut with an apartment on both ends, usually having two or three small bedrooms each and separated by a thin partition between apartments. If your neighbor sneezed and you said bless you, you could generally hear him say thanks. Got the picture?

I'm going to tell you about our school May Day festivities of that year and the banana tree caper. The banana tree grew outside my bedroom window and was too young to have bananas (about a six-inch diameter at base) but offered good shade. The school was about four miles from my house, and we had to walk down the street and around the corner about a hundred yards to an open-air covered bus stop and wait for transportation. Now today, I know you are thinking school bus when I say that, right? Not so! We were transported in converted cattle-car trucks with open mesh screen on the sides and an aroma that led you to believe that it was recently used for the original purpose it was built. The school was up on a hill overlooking the bay and you could see the airport and the open-air theater with its many bleacher seats off in the distance.

I was in the school band and played the tenor saxophone; my brother played the trombone. For May Day the band would play for the visiting parents and the kids were to put on various skits, play games and, of course, dance around the obligatory May Pole. Naturally, we had to have costumes. My mother had made my brother and me some bright shiny pantaloons of green and red material with white blouses and matching bow ties and sashes. This was her idea of keeping a swashbuckling appearance she wanted to achieve and to cap it off, my brother made some wooden swords for him and me, which we were to buckle on to the sash.

Naturally, you have to practice for a May Day celebration, so my brother and I decided to practice early. We got a little carried away with the swords, though, and I'm afraid the banana tree, which was used to dodge behind from time to time, suffered more punctures and slashes than was good for it and subsequently the tree expired. God ought to have known to make those trees more durable, don't you think? Our parents weren't too happy about that little caper, but we made it up to them by making them proud of us during the festivities.

My parents couldn't afford to buy both my brother and me our musical instruments when we returned to the States, so since my brother was the older, he got a trombone (which he took with him upon entering the Navy years later and which he later hocked in a pawn shop to get money to buy dentures for his new girl friend who then left him for another...but that's another story) and I had a promise that my saxophone would be forthcoming at a later date. It never did because my teeth grew in wrong and would not have permitted me to continue playing that instrument. I took to learning to sing in the shower, much to the amusement of my mother, but I got good enough to sing in the glee club at C.F.H.S.

I do ramble on so, don't I, Alex? I cannot help it. I just go where my thoughts take me. It sometimes makes for a boring letter and sometimes not. I hope I haven't put you to sleep with this one. Write again. I like to hear from everyone, and this is a good pastime for me.

Your friend,

John E. Hunt



Dear Mr. Hunt,

Hi, how are you doing? Me I'm doing fine.

Well, I received your letter you sent me and I'll say you got a very good imagination.

So Mr. Hunt, how's life in Augusta, Georgia? What happens in the city or is it a town?

Nothing much here but I don't know because I just came from my vacation. I went to Colombia. That's where my whole family is. My brother, who is sick, is there and immigration wouldn't let him come in ten years ago.

Look, I'm sending you a postcard of my country. The card is a picture of the city of Medellin.

I got to go. I hope you like the post card.

Sincerely,

Alex



Dear Alex,

I received your letter and the Post Card of Medellin, Colombia today. You don't specifically say so, but I suppose that is where you went for your Christmas/New Years vacation. I hope you enjoyed yourself. Medellin looks like a nice place. Do you go back home to Colombia very often? It is sad when a family has to be separated and live in two different countries. At any rate, you got to see your brother I trust?

Augusta is a small city much like Central Falls I suppose. We currently have the Cutting Horse Futurity going on downtown. That is an event which pits horse and rider against cattle. The rider must cut out a single steer from a small herd and secure it within a proscribed time limit.

The City is most noted for it's Master's Golf Tournament held every Spring. It is Nationally Televised. We also host the Savannah River Regatta and a raft race, and have many cultural arts programs for the many different nationalities that form our citizenry.

Alex, I'm happy that you liked my letter. I do try to make them interesting. Your comment that I have a very good imagination is a bit unsettling though. This is because it leads me to believe that you think I am making these incidents up. Believe me, everything I told you in that letter is the truth and actually happened as stated. It may read like fiction, but it isn't. That is why I say my life is worth putting in print for others to read. It has been an adventure I wouldn't want to have missed, and that I have been blessed with enough talent to be able to express to others.

Anyway, if you choose to think of it as fiction, that's your prerogative. Be advised, though, that I am having the story published along with many of your letters. Keep an eye out for it in your local book stores.

Depending upon the sales of the book alluded to, I will write a sequel. If sales are bad, I may have to use a different format for the second book. Stay tuned!

Your friend,

John




Dear John,

Hi! How are you doing? My name is Shelley ______ . My teacher, Mr. Arthur Patenaude told us about you and he said for us to write to you, so I'm writing to you.

We have a McDonald's on Broad Street and a Burger King on Lonsdale Avenue.

The school is big now and they have kindergarten in the school too.

I live on Earle Street, off of Dexter Street.

How is Georgia? I visit relatives in Florida every year and we go through Georgia.

Central Falls has changed a lot. Well, gotta go, bye!

Sincerely yours,

Shelley


Dear Shelley,

Sorry, but I don't remember where Earle Street is, even though it runs off Dexter Street where I lived. Of course, Dexter is a long street.

I have relatives around Tampa, Florida. Most of them have my mother's maiden name of Heroux, but when my female cousins remarried, I don't know what names they took. I've been out of touch for about thirty-five years now. You have some idea what Georgia is like if you pass through here on your yearly trip to Florida. Perhaps you can explain what the countryside looks like to your classmates.

Augusta, Georgia lies along the Savannah River between Georgia and South Carolina, about a third of the way up the coast from the Atlantic Ocean. It is most famous as the home of the Masters Golf Tournament, but is expanding the riverfront recreation areas to include international speedboat races. The Augusta Futurity, Cutting Horse Trials, are run here yearly now. The arts and medical sciences are well represented in this area also. Fort Gordon, Georgia, is the home of the U.S. Army Signal Corps, and a National Science Center will open here sometime in 1990. Across the Savannah from us is Aiken, South Carolina, which is a nationally recognized home for racehorse breeders.

The Savannah River Site, which manufactures weapons-grade nuclear fuel, tritium, is only about seventeen miles from here in South Carolina and has been much in the news lately.

Shall I take you way back to before I lived on Washington Street in Central Falls? Let's go back to 1943-1944 or there-abouts, okay? Actually, this was a mid point in my mother's life because my father, who had been driving taxis in Pawtucket and Central Falls, went off to World War II in the Pacific, so Mom moved us to my aunt and uncle's farm out in Norton, Massachusetts.

The farm was a great place for kids to grow up. I'd guess it was about four or five acres anyway, nothing that couldn't be worked by a large family without machinery. Everything was done by hand: the tilling, hoeing, weeding, planting, and reaping. They grew everything needed for subsistence in the way of vegetables and kept some chickens, pigs, a couple of cows, ducks, and my uncle was experimenting with a mink farm operation.

In the summer we would walk along a dirt road that paralleled the farm. About two miles down the road and across a railroad track was an old man-made pond on the right. They called it Pete's Pond, and that's where I learned to swim at the age of four. My cousin George took me out on his shoulders and then ducked out from under me. I cried a little, but by golly, I learned pretty fast. I remember watching the dragon flies, or as some people call them, darning needles flitter about on the surface of Pete's Pond and marveling at their changing hues in the sunlight. On the way home, we would pick rhubarb, which grew wild along the roadside.

Once, my cousins removed an old barn door and we carried it by hand all the way to Pete's Pond to use as a raft. Another time, we found a dead body in the woods by the side of the road, and it caused quite a stir in the neighborhood. I don't remember the details of that one because I think the grown-ups were trying to protect us little ones.

My uncle had several old clunker cars and trucks that littered the property and were good places for nesting wasps. I found that out one day while investigating. When my mother came home from work, she couldn't recognize me because I had been stung between the eyes and both of them were swollen shut.

We kids had this special place off in the woods in a clearing where we would play. We built sand cars in the dirt big enough for us to get into and would sit in them and pretend to race each other through the woods. Naturally we didn't get very far. We would have to change vehicles just to make sure that the same person didn't win all the time.

Occasionally, my cousins would get some vegetables from the garden, some salt and pepper, pots and pans, and other staples, and with rod and reel, we would go off in the woods to a fishing hole. From what I remember, we only caught catfish, so we must have been fishing off the bottom. A fire would be built and the vegetables cut up and put in the stew pot along with the cleaned catfish. We would eat right there on the bank of the pond. Such were the cares of my world at that time.

Did you find any of that interesting, Shelley? I certainly hope so because I don't like to flap my gums for nothing. You can probably tell that from the way I write, huh?

Until next time then,

Your friend,

John E. Hunt



Dear Mr. Hunt,

I am a student at Central Falls High School. I am in the ninth grade and fourteen years old. This is my first year here. Before I came here I went to Holy trinity. I went there for seven years. Everybody said that this school was bad and people did drugs everywhere and people wanted to fight you. But that's not true anymore. People think that in Central Falls there are drugs and fights and everything everywhere. People are scared when they see someone from Central Falls.

That's not all true. There are drugs in Central Falls, but the people aren't very bad. They give C.F. a very bad reputation. In the newspaper it said that people are scared to walk in C.F. at night, but you shouldn't be scared. If you don't start trouble, nothing will happen to you. Central Falls is a pretty good place.

Well, that's all the time I have. It would be nice to hear from you and write back.

Your friend,

Fernando


Dear Fernando,

I remember reading and seeing newscasts on TV about the drug problems Central Falls had several years ago. I'm inclined to agree with you. The problem was blown all out of proportion because Central Falls doesn't sound as though it's changed all that much from when I lived there and it was nice then. Sad to say, every city today seems to have its share of drug problems, and I don't think C.F. is any the worse than any other city. Enough said about that.

I want to go back to Cuba for now, Fernando, so please bear with me while I take us back a bit. The year is 1950 and I'm 10 and have coerced some native banana boatmen into letting me help sell their wares.

Remember now that Batista was a senator at that time, but for all practical purposes, he was running the country and did in fac, seize power in 1952. Castro wasn't on the scene. Cuba was a fairly open country, and most of the U.S. military stationed there had maids and gardeners who worked for them daily under the local Status of Forces agreements.

How I got the job on the boat, I don't remember, but I used to spend a lot of time on weekends down at the Navy piers, watching the ships and the banana boatmen who would ply the waters along the piers, selling pineapple, bananas, mangoes, and other tropical fruits to the local people. I guess the boatmen took a liking to me and used to show me how to pare back the pineapples and stack the fruit to make them look appealing. They would teach me a little Spanish and maybe they learned some English from me. Mostly, I tried to lure the sailors on the piers over to the boats for fruits during their breaks. I think we had a symbiotic relationship.

For some reason, one Saturday when I was supposed to go and help them, I stayed home doing something else. Later that day we heard that there had been an accident at the piers and one of the banana boats had exploded. It appears there was a fuel leak in the water from one of the ships along the pier and someone had thrown a cigarette overboard. I don't know if the banana boat involved was one of the ones I used to work on because when my folks heard about the accident, they forbade me to go down there again.

Lest anyone should get the idea that we were putting on airs by having a maid and gardener, nothing could be farther from the truth. Under agreement of the lease between the U.S. Navy and the Cuban government, local nationals had to be hired for that type of work. So, yes indeed, we took advantage of it because it was inexpensive wages to us but good pay for the nationals.

The first maid who worked for us was old and had a permanent running sore on her elbow. Though she spoke English well, her cooking was abysmally poor and my mother didn't get along well with her, so she was fired. The second maid was a large-boned young girl of sixteen who spoke little English but could cook and work like a horse. She was very pleasant-natured and always tried to keep learning things from my parents and us kids. When we left in 1952, Virgin (that was her name) wanted to come with us. She was from Oriente Province across the bay and came from a large but poor family.

All the domestic help came to the base by boat from Oriente Province early in the morning. They signed into a work pool office and reported to their place of work or to the family they worked for. They would work all day and depart in the evening. A special permit would have to be authorized for them to work on weekends because they usually worked weekdays only. They were happy to get the work.

About this time of life, I entered puberty. I knew it because I had a wet dream one night and didn't know what strange things were happening to my body. No one had ever told me about that happening. I was scared but when I asked my mom, she assured me everything was normal. My mom was great that way. I could usually talk to her about anything. Of course it was almost a necessity because my dad was not around for a good many years.

Some time ago now, I think I went through the other end of that phase, but I'll never know because the medicine I must take for my illnesses could be a contributing factor. All I know is that while the mind may be active, the rest of me isn’t.

Having said what I've said in the foregoing, I'll leave you here for now. Should you desire to communicate further, please feel free to write. I enjoyed hearing from you, Fernando.

Your friend,

John E. Hunt


Dear John,

I don't believe you're an old man. I bet ya you're in your thirties.

You're amazing! I don't know how you got all that information out of my letter. Sorry to spoil your image. I'm all American and not educated that far east as Russia. I think West Germany is fine enough for me. I was educated at bases in Germany. Also, I have had strict discipline.

My name is pronounced "Yim-Qm-Q," If you can't read my handwriting.

Your memory of Summer Avenue has changed. It no longer has trees anywhere.

If you don't mind me asking, was your father in a military field?

Your wandering style of writing, I like it. It enables me to get to know you. I would like to hear more about you.

Do you know that for about two years, I lived down there in Hinesville, Georgia? Last March we moved up here because of family problems. In Georgia, it's too rainy or too sunny and hot for me. I do love it up here.

You know, I think we're a little alike. We've had so much trouble in our lives but you seem to have overcome everything.

Sometimes when I have a problem, I go out back and watch the sky. I always wonder how people can capture a speck of its beauty. I want to become an artist but I can only recapture someone else's art.

I'm lucky, though, Mr. Patenaude says I'm good in poetry. My History teacher Mr._______ says I'm talented in drawing and set me up with Mr. _______. If I'm lucky, I'll get into commercial art next year. And I'm very intelligent, not to brag.

How about you? Are you talented at other things besides your writing? The way you tell of your past, people may think you wander, but I enjoy it. You learn a lot about the person and their ways.

How are you doing? Where's your brother? Do you ever see your brother?

I never see my sister, we write. Here's my story: The year before last, my sister and mother got in an argument (they don't get along), so in November, she packed her stuff and went to a friends’ house. She was seventeen. She's supposed to get married in April. I wrote in November and she hasn't answered; if she has, I haven't received it. My mother is stubborn and my sister tight on money. When something happens, my mother wants a card, gift, or something. My sister said she sent a card and it must have got lost in the mail. Ma wouldn't believe her and now won't let me write her. I could sneak a letter off, but I have no stamps. I still have a Christmas card here for her in my room.

Well, how do you like my depressing tale?

Did you ever name that kitten from the Annex?

I had two puppies once, Ma gave them away. She said they wouldn't last the drive up here. Their names were "CoCo" and "CC" for Copy Cat.

This might be a wild guess, but when I'm eighteen or older, can I come visit you? If my sister still lives in Tennessee, that's what I'll do. I plan to pick up my best buddy and then to her house (my sister's). On the way there I probably could visit briefly, of course, since I plan to go directly to college.

Where did you go to college? Do you have any recommendations? I can use all the help I can get.

Well, it's getting late and I have to tutor someone tomorrow after school.

Sincerely,

Q

P.S. Sorry I haven't written you back immediately. I've had to tackle Shakespeare's Julius Caesar and mid-year exams this week. Stay in touch!
P.P.S. I'll be fifteen on ________, when's your birthday? Also, I want to know all your favorites. You tell me first then I'll tell you mine!




Dear Q,

Well shucks, if you want to think I'm thirty-something, go right ahead, I don't mind. Had all my letters to you students been read aloud in class, as I thought they would be, you would be aware that Julius Caesar and I had something in common. He died on the Ides (fifteenth) of March and I was born on the same date, only in 1940. That should answer one of your questions and put that depressing subject to rest.

You would also be aware that my father was in the U.S. Navy and that we traveled to his duty stations whenever we could. That is why I have moved so much and had such interesting experiences. I've chronicled those experiences into a book that I hope to have published later this year. I have started on another already.

From your letter I gather that you, too, are a military dependant, and have traveled far and wide. The discipline I detected is a byproduct of being brought up in a military family. You should have gotten a better education than most, if you received some of it overseas.

West Germany is a nice country, but I was only there for three months before they had to medevac me back to the states for my heart operation in 1979.

After convalescing from that operation, the Army sent me to the Twenty-forth Infantry Division, at Fort Stewart, Georgia. So you see I, too, am familiar with the town of Hinesville. I was there from January of 1980 until October. I was discharged from the Army from that Fort.

You are a very interesting girl Q. As you say, we seem to have a lot of things in common. You appear to be a romantic (not unlike me) with your sight on the future. If you can maintain your curiosity about the beauty in life around you, perhaps you can keep your sanity in this ever changing world of ours. You have a poets’ soul and a good talent for drawing. Don't waste them.

Try to keep in touch with your sister, ________, whenever you can. She sounds like she is going through a pretty rough time. It's a shame for such a young girl to become estranged from her family. I hope she is okay in Tennessee, and she marries the man of her choice in April, as you suggest she will. She will need someone in the family to confide in from time to time. If that person is you, it will bind you closer to her.

The kitten that almost drowned in the Annex back in 1949, was given a name, I'm sure. After forty years though, I cannot recall what it was. I have five cats now, a cocker spaniel and two parakeets.

If you wish to visit when you are eighteen, you may do so. Please don't make any promises this early though. That time is still a long way off for you, and a lot could happen in the intervening years to change your mind. I might not even be around then.

Planning for college this early is a smart thing to do, but be prepared to make changes later. I attended a local college here in Augusta after my discharge from the army. I had to drop out because of my health. So you see, I have no formal degree. The atmosphere of a college campus is vibrant even for an old man like me. If I could do it over again, I would have gotten the college education before going into the service. It rounds out your personality, and you don't have to go through the crucible of life getting that done. Let's face it, life too, will round out your personality, but there sure are a lot of hard knocks to overcome first. Go the college route if you can.

As for recommendations, it's nice if you can afford to go to the same college all four years. This is ideal where the college of your choice also teaches your major. If, however, the financial picture will not allow a four year matriculation in one establishment, remember that the first two years are usually devoted to core curriculum subjects anyway, and that you can take them in a local college while living at home. This is relatively cheap. You can then transfer, if necessary, to another college to complete your major.

Your drawing is exquisite, I especially like the one at the bottom of the page; the old Oriental gentleman. You do have a flair for art! As you know, I've spent a little time in the Orient and have a Korean wife and daughter. I suspect you're oriental also, judging by your name, your sister's name, and your choice of subject to draw. Is this correct? If so, may I be so bold as to ask what nationality?

I think I've answered all your questions for the moment Q. Please do write back, I enjoy corresponding with you.

Your friend,

John



Dear Mr. John Hunt,

Hi, how are you? I'm fine. My name is Edvarda, but I like to be called Mario, it's my middle name. I'm fourteen years old and I'll be fifteen in February. I'm a ninth grader at C.F.H.S.

I hear that you are a basketball fan. Me too. I love it. I try to practice every day, but I've been busy with homework and I baby-sit my niece and nephew (sometimes). I also love football and baseball. What are your favorite basketball teams? Any special ones? Do you like any other sports?

When you were in Central Falls, do you remember Sylvian Street? I used to live there. It's really bad too much now. I now live on Reed Avenue, a dead-end Street, and quiet. It's next to Valley Street and Butler Avenue. Central Falls is an okay place. If you ever come back to Rhode Island, maybe you can see in your point of view if it's alright.

So which place do you like better, Rhode Island or Georgia? Central Falls is nice. I've lived here for about three years.

Would you like to come and visit someday? I hope you write back to me and we could be friends. I hope you write your book and maybe I'll buy it. You can write to me at the school or the address on the envelope.

Your friend always,

Edvarda (Mario)
P.S. Write back soon.
Sorry if this is hard to read or messy.



Dear Mario,

I don't follow any one particular basketball team anymore, nor any other sport on a regular basis. Rather, I watch the occasional game on TV. I like many sports and dabbled at quite a few of them to a more or less adequate degree of success at one time or another. I used to play a mean game of Ping-Pong in Vietnam and even got good enough to hustle on the pool table from time to time. My active participation is over now because of my infirmities, but please don't feel sorry for me. I have lots of good memories.

A lot of places mentioned are familiar to me, but my orientation to Central Falls topography has faded, so I cannot place the location in my mind. I do intend to return if my health allows it, sometime in early 1989 to attend the thirtieth reunion of the graduating class of '59, which I would have been a part of had I stayed in C.F.H.S. I will refresh my memory so that when I do write my book, East will not be in the West or North in the South.

I enjoyed your letter and your handwriting is not sloppy, so don't worry about the small stuff.

Let's go back to my arrival in Argentia, Newfoundland, in the year 1957. I had just left C.F.H.S. and would have to make friends in a new school at the Naval Air Station during my junior year. My father had sent for us when he found housing off post. We would have to wait until a place on-post became available, before moving amongst the military families. Meanwhile, we lived about fifteen miles from the base, in a place called Dunnville. Only the roads on base were paved, It was a dirt road all the way to my house, the only road between Argentia and St. John's, the capital.

Leaving the base, we passed Placentia Bay with its quaint houses, some of them on stilts. This area was all a fishing and whaling area. The bay ran the length of the road on our right to way past my house fifteen miles distant. On the left of the road was mostly mountain and forested area. Upon reaching my house, there was a small sawmill on the left, up the hill a little way and my house was across the road and down the hill about eighty feet where it leveled off for about a hundred feet and then dropped to a small lake at the bottom of the hill. We did some fishing for trout in that lake periodically.

On the other side of the lake, and across a small rise of land, was the continuation of Placentia Bay. I used to hike over there from time to time. I've seen whales wash up on the beach and die, pilot whales moving up and down the bay amidst the icebergs. It was a very scenic area and if you could put up with the loneliness of the spot, it became comfortable.

Our nearest neighbor down the road was about three miles away (this was not counting the workers at the small sawmill at the top of the hill). The temperature seldom got out of the seventies in summer and only in the teens in winter. This was a wet cold, though, and if it was windy, you felt it. The Gulf Stream swings up along Newfoundland in the winter or it would be colder.

When I enrolled in Arthur L. Bristol High School, it was the first year of its existence on post. Military dependents had been going to Saint John's, the capital, for schooling at an Air Force base near there. There were only four seniors that year and there were eleven juniors.

I was in seventh heaven because I had spent the summer off-post with not another teenager to talk with. I had to make up for lost time. All the teenagers, from freshman to senior, totalled less than forty souls, so nobody was ever ostracized from the teen social activities. We formed all kinds of clubs and joined as many as we could just to have some socialization. I joined the teen bowling league at the officers' club and eventually became a team captain. I became a good figure skater on roller skates and was asked by the military recreation manager to referee afternoon sessions at the gymnasium to make sure there was no horsing around. They even gave me a whistle and a black-and-white striped shirt.

In my senior year, I taught chemistry for a week until the teacher arrived from the States. The base commander wrote me a nice letter for doing that. We were extremely shorthanded on teachers for a while. I became editor of our school newspaper and co-president of the student council. It was nice because classes were so small that the teachers had time to give a little one-on-one instruction.

Connie Francis came up with the USO and put on a show for the boys on the DEW line. All dependents went because this was an event that seldom happened. I sat in the balcony of the theater and Miss Francis sounded as though her voice filled the whole hall. Some singer that! I sat with Carol Townsley, she of the sweet lipstick. She only let me taste it once.

On that sweet note, I'll bid you adieu, Mario. Until next time then,

Your friend,

John E. Hunt



Dear Mr. Hunt,

Hi, how are you feeling? I'm doing pretty good. My name is Michelle. I'm fourteen years old, in the ninth grade. I live on Watson Street.

I guess Central Falls hasn't really changed that much. The fire station is on Illinois Street now. Corning Glass on Broad Street changed their name to GTE. The old Washington Street School is now Calcutt Middle School. The old Sacred Heart Academy is now Cartie's Health Center, and Notre Dame Hospital don't deliver babies anymore. They don't do operations in there anymore either.

The reason I put where I live on here is: (1) if you wish to write back and (2) Mr. Patenaude told us to describe our street a little. My street isn't all that special. It's a side street that connects Pine Street to Lonsdale Avenue. It's more toward Pawtucket than Lincoln.

I guess I'll let you go so you can read some more letters. I hope you feel better and will enough to come visit your old school someday.

Bye!

Michelle


Dear Michelle,

Thank you for taking the time to write to me and you do write an interesting letter. For instance, I think I know where Notre Dame Church is (toward Lincoln and on Dexter Street) but had no idea there was a hospital by that name. It doesn't sound like much of a hospital if they don't deliver or do operations. I assume you are talking about abortions, however, and that would be in keeping with the Catholic doctrine I believe. From the name, I would think it is a Catholic hospital.

I don't remember where in C.F. they are, but Pine Street and Lonsdale Avenue are familiar names to me, so I must have been on them before. Unfortunately, I don't recall Watson Street.

Judging from your handwriting, I would say you are a very extroverted person and have a lot of friends but are also an incurable romantic. That being the case, you must be enjoying this tale of my life. Let's get on with it then, shall we? The Ides of March 1940 is an auspicious date. That is when I came into this world at a place called Fiskdale, Massachusetts. Julius Caesar went out of this world on the Ides of March, and I like to think that maybe I'm a reincarnate of his. I guess you can tell that I'm a romantic also, huh, Michelle?

Mom said the doctor was late getting to the house during the storm at 3:00 A.M. and that he was sick himself and had to have an appendix removed after he left us. After examining her, he lay on the bed beside her to wait for my entrance. When I did arrive, while he was examining me, I peed in his face. That made my mom happy for some reason. She was a weird lady.

In 1942-1943, my dad went to the Pacific during the war. He sent back some pictures of himself and a friend having a good time at some club on one of those islands. They both had hula girls in grass skirts draped around their necks and sitting on their laps. Some war they were fighting, huh? I only mention that in passing because he asked my mother for a divorce, and this caused her to have a nervous breakdown. My brother and I were placed in a home for children.

I don't remember too much about the children's home except that for some reason my brother and I were separated. I do remember seeing and talking with him through a tall chain-link fence that separated our playgrounds. I remember Mom coming to visit also when she started to feel better. Dad had reconsidered his position and begged for forgiveness, so after some time, my mom relented and they got us out of the home and made a fresh start of it.

Sad to say, in 1965, after almost thirty years of marriage, they did get a divorce, and it once again occasioned my mother having a breakdown. She recovered, but never fully, sold our house in Virginia Beach, and moved back to Attleboro,
Massachusetts to be near some of her sisters. I brought her here to live with me in 1977 when she was diagnosed as having incurable lung cancer. She died later that year and is buried here in Augusta.

Dad remarried a Greek woman in Hawaii in 1966. I visited them for two weeks in 1970 while I was on R & R (rest and recuperation) from my duty station in Vietnam. She seemed like a very nice lady and made a hell of a spinach pie, which up until then, you couldn't have gotten me to eat, but she was a wonderful cook.

I tried to maintain contact with my father, but he stopped writing. It wasn't until June of 1985 that I learned from the Navy Department that he had died in March of 1983 and was buried in the National Cemetery on Oahu.

So much for my meandering today! I figure you all can put up with only so much of this maudlin stuff, so I'm going to take a break now. Why don't we all?

Write again and soon, Michelle, if I haven't bored you to death, that is.

Your new friend,

John E. Hunt


Dear John,

Hello, how are you doing in Georgia? Things here in Central Falls, Rhode Island are okay I guess.

I live on Lincoln Avenue. I have been living here for about four years, and it's been decent to me I guess. I heard that you played basketball in the high school when you were here. We won the championship last year.

I play three sports in this school, they are: soccer on the boy's team, basketball, and softball. I want to play football but they won't let me.

Well, a lot of things changed around here. Notre Dame School is an elderly home now, and Jenks Park is more like a dump, not a park. The tower is messed up a wicked lot, there is graffitti all over it and people abuse it by going up there to drink and get high. There is glass all over the place and there are some people that live in the park because they can't afford to have an apartment.

Lincoln Avenue is a quiet street because there is a lot of old people that live on that street.

The soccer team hasn't been doing too good. We won the championship in either 82-84 or 85, it's been so long, I forgot.

The street that the guys play basketball on is now called Sacred Heart Avenue. There is a tennis court and new swings and stuff there.

I'm not really good at writing letters, that's why I'm failing English. Please excuse the spelling mistakes. I'm good in things like biology, not English.

Well, tell me some things about Georgia and you. Are you married? I'm not getting married. I'm not going to put myself in that disaster. Well, I'll write to you after you respond to my letter okay??

Your friend,

Heather




Dearest Heather,

I'm delighted to hear the basketball team has been doing well. The high school has always fielded a good basketball team. Do you play with the lady Warriors? Why are you playing soccor on the boys team? Is it that you enjoy physical contact sports with boys? I must confess I can't understand why a young girl would want to play football. That sport is too rough for girls to play, in my estimation. You appear to be a very active sports fan.

It's a sorry state of affairs we've come to when we let beautiful spots that have been designed for public enjoyment, deteriorate to the point that Jenks Park has deteriorated. I hear that some renovations are being planned though.

The tennis court wasn't at Sacred Park Avenue playground when I was there. As a matter of fact, I don't recall any public tennis courts.

As you can tell if you have been listening to some of the letters I've written to your classmates, I usually try to tell an amusing anecdote or fact about my life that will bring a smile to the lips. Unfortunately, it will take me a while to work up a smile after your letter. It is a good letter but has sad implications.

You say you're not going to get married because you don't want to put yourself through that disaster. Obviously you have witnessed some marital problems others have had and it has brought you some pain. That is unfortunate but a sad fact of life. Usually these things iron themselves out between the parties and everyone learns something from it and life goes on. It is God's nature to throw suffering and pain our way from time to time. How we deal with those problems, shapes our character. If we can handle it properly, it is a strong character that emerges. Please keep that in mind, and don't give up on marriage so soon in life. There is someone for everyone, and no person was meant to go through life alone. Enough of the moralizing. Let's get on with living and see if I cannot force a smile to someone's lips.

I see by your letter that you are an avid sports participant and fan. That is good because we have to have strong bodies as well as strong minds to tackle the complexities that come our way during a lifetime.

Soccer was not a sport that was offered when I went to C.F.H.S. I first learned it in 1955 while living in Tall Timbers, Maryland, and in the eighth grade. We had a brother and sister of German extraction who were new to our school and convinced the school to start up a team. The boy's name was Jacob, and he taught most of us the rules of the game as well as designing the playing field. Looking back on it today, he seemed like a young Pele to me. Boy, he could handle that ball with his feet! It was purely magical.

I hope nobody worries about spelling mistakes when they write me. I was fortunate enough to get a good foundation in English basic grammar and structure at C.F.H.S., which has stood me in good stead throughout life.

I've always been an avid reader and have managed to pick up a larger than usual vocabulary. When I get a letter, though, it is the contents that interest me more than the structure. Please keep that in mind when you write and for heaven's sake, make your letters interesting and not necessarily grammatically correct.

Biology was a favorite class of mine while I was going to C.F.H.S. Unfortunately, I wasn't too good with a scalpel and botched a couple of dissections. My drawings and research on the subject were more than adequate to advance me to the next higher grade.

One show-stopper that I can recall from biology class was the day we first discussed the reproductive cycle in humans. Being an erudite student and well read, when the teacher asked if anyone knew where the sperm that fertilized the ova came from and nobody raised their hand to answer (as a matter of fact, sex education was not taught in school in those days and was a bit embarrassing to discuss), I volunteered the answer as the penis.

How was I to know that he only wanted a general location like "male" and not the actual physical organ? A pin could have been dropped in that room during the next thirty seconds and it would have been heard by all. A lot of faces turned red, including mine, when the teacher stammered out the answer he was looking for. Occurrences such as that seemed to plague my life for some reason. Perhaps it is my Karma.

I hope at this time that I have brought a smile to your lips and a little cheer into your day. Have a good one.

Write again and soon because I want to get to know you better.

Your new friend,

John E. Hunt



Dear Mr. Hunt,

Hello. I am a freshman at Central Falls High. My name is Kim ________ and I live in Central Falls on Perry Street, right across from where the old Elite Club used to be except it's not there anymore. It burned some years ago. Now it's a Health Center for the Blackstone Valley.

Well, I really do not know what else to tell you about Central Falls. Well, I hope you have a great day.

Sincerely,

Kim


Dear Kim,

I don't remember the Elite Club or Perry Street, so cannot picture where in Central Falls it is located. You do say that it is now the health center for Blackstone Valley. If it's near the Blackstone River, I would say it's down toward the Pawtucket end of town, correct?

I know it's difficult to write to someone you don't know, so you weren't able to tell me too much, but by the same token, I cannot get to know you either. Maybe by the time you become a little more familiar with my story, you will be more comfortable in writing to me. With that in mind, let's go off on another tangent.

Before we left Central Falls for Pawtuxent River, Maryland, in 1953, we visited our relatives in Sabatus, Maine. My aunt and uncle gave me a set of skis for Christmas and as a going-away present. I got to use them exactly once in Maryland when we had a half-inch snowfall that lasted all of five hours. I fell quite a lot and gave up trying to be a Jean Claude Killy, downhill racer.

My forte then became exploring the woods around the housing area on post. I led many an expedition, a la Lewis and Clark, into the surrounding vegetation and discovered many good streams and places of solitude where a boy my age (thirteen to fourteen) could lose himself from the cares of urban living. My constant companion at that time was my collie, Scotty. We had him since 1951 in Cuba, and he was very faithful and smart. Sometimes when I left him at home and meal time came, my mother would tie a note to his collar and let him out of the house and he would invari-ably find me no matter where I was.

Those streams I mentioned were very tempting places on hot days at school. A person I may have mentioned in another letter, named Butch, was a playmate of mine and we began sneaking cigarettes and playing hooky from school together. One day we had gone to one of these streams in the woods and decided to go swimming. We went in au natural after folding our clothes on the bank.

The swimming was great for about forty minutes, but unfortunately, we weren't the only ones who passed through those woods. We heard some men coming, so we scrambled out and grabbed as much of our clothes as we could and ran to hide and dress. We had been seen, however, and recognized. Our parents did find out about it, and mine forbade me to play with Butch again. Of course, that dictum couldn't be enforced forever, so it wasn't long before we were playing together again. My parents didn't like Butch because they thought he was leading me astray. Truth to tell, I couldn't tell you to this day who was leading whom astray.

The elementary school I went to was located just outside the gate of the post in College Park, Maryland. I used to brown-bag it to school in those days. That is, I'd carry my lunch. Schools didn't have cafeterias and lunchrooms in those days, so one brought one's lunch in a bag and perhaps traded with another if he/she had what looked like a better lunch. We did bring some change for sodas or milk or candy bars, though. I seldom used the monies for what they were intended. At first I was into commemorative stamps, which I bought or traded from other students; then I got into foreign coins and bills. A lot of the students were from military families and had done a lot of traveling with their fathers to different lands and had some good-looking currency. The temptations were all around.

Later I found out that the pinball machines in the various stores in the park had payoffs in cash if you won games. That became a big thing for Butch and me. Naturally, the machines did most of the winning.

My parents were happy when we moved off post to Tall Timbers. We lived in a house in the pines on the shore of the Potomac River. I was starting at a new school, and I think they thought the move would split Butch and me up and I would no longer get into trouble. Though Butch stayed on post, he, too, was bussed to the same school as I. It was a stalemate. I also made another new friend named Jimmy Calisanto who I had some adventures with, about which you shall hear soon.

That's about it for now, Kim. I hope you found something of interest in this little bit of narrative, and perhaps you can relate it to some experience of your own and tell me about it in your next letter.

Until then,

Your friend,

John


Dear Mr. Hunt,

Hello! How are you doing? I'm fine. Did you enjoy your Christmas holiday?

Well, we all received our letters from you yesterday in English. You wrote that you don't remember the Elite Club on Perry Street so I'll try to give you an idea of where it is. You were wrong in guessing that it's toward the Pawtucket end of town, near the Blackstone River. The building where the Elite Club was is called the Blackstone Valley Health Center, though. Okay, do you remember where C.F. High School is located? It's on the corner of Summer Street and Illinois Street. Well, as you walk out the front door of the school, the street parallel to Illinois is Perry Street. It runs from Summer Street all the way down to Hunt Street. Does that make it any clearer for you? I hope it does.

Since you told me about your adventures in your letter, I guess that I should tell you some of mine. About four years ago my family and my father's best friend's family got together and we went camping at Buck Hill Camp ground in Burriville, Rhode Island. Part of it is a Boy Scout Camp, but the other part is for families. The week we went it was practically deserted. There were only three other families besides ours and there were no scouts. It was very quiet, especially since the camp sites were spaced quite a good distance from each other.

We really rough it when we go camping. We even had to pitch our own tents. I've been camping ever since I was born so the outdoors is like a second home to me.

One day while we were all out on the lake (except my mom and her friend who stayed on shore), a huge wild goose swooped right down over the boat we were in (Actually, it wasn't a boat, it was a canoe.). Then it landed on the shore where the rest of the flock were landing and there were twelve of them and they were huge and they started going over to where my mom and friend were sitting so they got up and stood behind their chairs until the geese went away because they didn't know what else to do.

The next day we went for a hike through the woods and we saw a fox. It was beautiful. Then you wouldn't believe what happened that night while we were sitting around the fire. See, there was this stray cat that kept going through our camp and my father saw a stripe of white and heard rustling in the bushes and he thought it was the cat again. He leaned back and closed his eyes. When he opened them a few minutes later guess what was standing near his feet? A skunk! That's what he had seen, not a cat! So everybody got up and moved away and the skunk lifted his tail. We thought we were going to get sprayed but when the skunk saw we weren't going to do anything he put down his tail and walked away!

Well, for the past two years we've been renting a Beach House down in Sand Hill Cove Beach. It's right next to Galilee State Beach. My mom and I saw a jelly fish on the beach which was about the size--well, about six inches long and three inches thick. It was a clear colored one. To this day, my brothers and father don't believe us because they didn't see it. Then we (my cousin Jen and me) found a huge horseshoe crab swimming in the water. I think I drove Jen crazy that week because at low tide, I love hunting for periwinkles, hermit crabs, crabs and starfish. I pick them up, hunt under rocks and seaweed. Jen doesn't like me doing stuff like that!

Well, I enjoy studying the ocean and its inhabitants and I hope to become either a marine biologist or a biological oceanographer when I'm older. That's why I'm going to go to the University of Rhode Island. U.R.I. is supposed to have the best program for oceanography around. The next best is in Florida.

Well, I think that's all I have to say for now. I hope you found something of interest in my letter.

Sincerely,

Kim



Dear Kim,

Your letter of 18 January arrived yesterday along with two other letters from your classmates. You state that you had just got the letter the day before while in English class. Mr. Patenaude has had those letters since the 3rd of January. Why he waited so long to pass them out is beyond my comprehension. I wrote to him and asked but have not received an answer as yet.

You write a very interesting letter and one which gives me pleasure to answer. Yes, my holidays were pleasant and uneventful. I trust you had a good time over the holidays also before returning to the daily grind at school.

Your interest in oceanography or marine biology is commendably and should be very rewarding if you do go into that field. That is a frontier which still has some mysteries for mankind. While we may be reaching for the stars now, we still have a vast area of this earth which remains unexplored to this day. Why it was thought that the Coelacanthe, a prehistoric fish, was extinct until the fifties, when Greek fisherman caught one. Several others have been caught since then but nobody has been able to keep them alive very long. They are a deep sea fish and I guess the difference in the pressure gradient when they are brought to the surface must kill them.

Knowing of your interest in this field, I would assume you are a great fan of Jacques Cousteau. He certainly has done a great deal to advance the knowledge of the sea and all that is in it for many years.

Your exploits at Buck Hill Campground and Sand Hill Cove Beach are undoubtedly what piqued your interest in the outdoors. Mind you, I've had my share of sleeping outdoors and on the ground while in the Army. There is a distinct pleasure in waking up at dawn and watching the sunrise over a lake or on the ocean. But I will leave that to all you young whipper snappers for now. My bones have become accustomed to a mattress of late.

The geese you mentioned were probably just looking for a handout from your mom and her friend. Discretion is the better part of valor when dealing with an unknown situation though, and they probably did the right thing by staying clear of the geese. A riled gander can nip you pretty badly if you're not careful. As for the skunk, I've heard that if they are not threatened, they are very docile and will not spray you. As a matter of fact, I've heard they make good house pets. It would have to be descented (if that is the right word) before I would have one as a pet.

Before my illness, my wife, daughter and I used to make yearly trips (sometimes twice a year) to Beaufort, S.C. and Fripp Island to pick clams and muscles and net crabs. We haven't done that for several years now. While walking the beaches there, I have found many horseshoe crab shells washed up on the shore and even once or twice, whole crabs. I don't know if they had been caught by fishermen and left to die or if it was a natural phenomenon of a breeding cycle. You know, like the salmon returning to their birthplace to spawn and then dying. I don't know enough about horseshoe crabs to form an opinion. I hope your interest in the oceans, and its inhabitants, stays vibrant and you do get your wish of becoming a marine biologist. Perhaps someday you can tell me the answer.

The Fort Gordon (U.S. Army) Recreation Center was offering classes on scuba diving at the indoor swimming pool this past summer with a final trip to Florida for sea trials to get a license for diving. The fee was only $120. I tried to interest my daughter in signing up but she was too tied up in her love life and didn't want to interrupt that. The course was only two weeks long but I guess the separation would have been unbearable for her. Such is young love!

It's been nice talking with you Kim. I'll close for now though because I promised the wife that we would visit friends this afternoon and it's nearing that time now. Be good and write again soon. I like hearing from you.

Your friend,

John



Dear Mr. Hunt,

My name is Tracey. I'm fifteen years old and in the ninth grade.

Central Falls has changed a lot since you were last here...

Right now I can not tell you about our basketball team, but in the next letter I write you, I will give you some information because I will do some research for you within the next week.

Thank you for taking your time and energy.

Sincerely,

Tracey




Dear Tracey,

I'm going to jump right in to my continuation narrative because my train of thought on the subject I just wrote to one of your classmates is still with me. I don't know how long that will be, though, and don't want to lose it. Let's see if it's still there.

The year is 1954-1955 and I was living in Tall Timbers, Maryland. It’s on the shore of the Potomac River. I was your age and it was a very exciting age at that. I lived in a great place.

Dad found this place nestled in the tall pine trees bordering the Potomac River on the Maryland side. When you walked out the back door onto a screened veranda, the vista was all river, with the Virginia side visible on the horizon about seven miles distant. About forty feet from the back door was an eight-foot seawall, which dropped to the river itself. There was no beach, but at low tide, it was only about three feet deep at the base of the seawall.

Various houses along the shore had well-built piers, that jutted out into the river some 40 to 220 feet. One had to ask permission of the owners to use their pier, but the neighbors were great about sharing. We fished off their piers a lot and swam also. Most of the homeowners were Summer People, but some stayed year round. We fit the latter category.

Living right on the Potomac occasioned a lot of seafood meals in our house. Mom was crazy about crab, so every day, I or my brother would check the two crab pots directly offshore from our house. Generally we'd find several crabs there.

Another trick was to take fish heads tied to long strings and throw them out and slowly drag them back. Invariably there would be a crab that could be scooped up in a long-handled net carried for that purpose. The crab didn't want to let the fish head go.

Sometimes I went along the shore about three-quarters of a mile where the seawall tapered off and a small beach formed. Crabs could be readily caught by net alone in the shallows there. This was where I liked to fish also. The most common fish we caught were what we called spot and perch. Sometimes we'd catch eels, but they wriggled in the frying pan gruesomely.

In the deeper waters, rock fish (striped bass) could be caught. This end of the inlet was separated by an expanse of open water about forty feet wide and having a very swift current when the tide was changing. The shoreline continued on the other side and sometime in the slack tide, we kids would swim across, but it was dangerous. If the tide were going out, a swimmer could be swept way out into the Potomac and drown. If it was an incoming tide, the inlet led to a harbor for the boats belonging to the local populace.

One day, Jimmy Calisanto and I visited the harbor and took out a rowboat to a launch that had an inboard motor on it. Jimmy and his family knew the owner, so when a guard who watched the marina stopped us and asked what we were doing, Jimmy said we had permission to use the launch. You guessed it! No such permission had ever been given. We managed to fire up the engine, slip the mooring, and take her out for an hour or so. That was great fun, and we got away with it.

Several days later, we tried it again with success. We tried to make it out of the inlet, but the current was too swift and it's a good thing too. There is no telling what would have happened had we managed to get out and not been able to get back in. When we tired, we brought the launch back to its mooring and secured it and went home.

Jimmy and I were both called to task for our adventures that night. It seems the owners had returned and the guard had asked them about a couple of kids using their boat. I know I got my bottom blistered for that one and placed on restriction for I don't remember how long, but it seemed forever.

Vallery Grimes was my secret and unrequited love here. She was a beautiful girl but had a big brother who used to pull the legs and shells off the crabs while they were still alive. I thought that gross! At least my mother cooked them in boiling water, where they died instantly, before she pulled them apart.

As I was saying about Vallery, we used to have swims at night at the end of the pier near her house. The pier had lights on it, which allowed late swimming. Sometimes we would just sit out there and sing songs or talk. I didn't realize until later when my brother, Harold, went into the Navy, that he had been sweet on her also.

Tracey, when next you write, tell me about yourself.

Your friend,

John E. Hunt



Dear Mr. Hunt,

Hi, My name is Jennifer. I am fourteen years old. I'm in the ninth grade. This is my first year here at Central Falls High. I like it a lot.

Before I came to the high school, I went to Holy Trinity School from third to eighth grade. Before that, I was in different schools. Where did you go for grammar school?

I live on Summit Street. The city hall is on the same street.

Do you remember where the fire station is? Well, it's not a fire station anymore, it's an auto shop. The post office, which was across the street from the fire station, burned down, and a Dunkin Donuts was built there. That street used to be called Ashley Street, but is now Sacred Heart Avenue.

Jenks Park is almost in my backyard. It has changed a lot since you were here. Everything is spray painted (graffiti), and falling apart. It looks old but they are slowly trying to fix things. They put in new swings sets for little kids and made a new sign.

How is it in Georgia? The farthest I've been is Ohio. I've never been to Georgia.

I have a brother and a sister, both younger than me.

In the future, I plan to work at my own day care. Where do/did you work?

Please write back and I will gladly write back to you.


Yours truly,


Jennifer



Dear Jen,

I see you too are interested in day care work as are a number of your classmates. I assume that has something to do with the kindergarten classes being held at C.F.H.S. I understand some students are helping out on a daily basis. It can be a rewarding experience, knowing that you have helped/are helping a youngster to learn new skills. Stick with it if you like it, young lady; lots of luck.

You know, when I originally started this letter writing, I wrote to the principal, Mr. Menatian, in hopes he would be able to put me in touch with some of my old teachers or classmates. I had no idea I would end up writing to the whole ninth-grade class. It is a very fortunate happenstance indeed that Mr. Patenaude was contacted and started this letter-writing campaign between us. I now have new ideas for a format of several books I can write. In addition, I hope I have made many more new friends.

One of my old friends, Mr. Ed Arage, was contacted and although he hasn't written yet, he did pass on the information to Mr. Jim Panichas, another old friend who has written. Both of these men have been and are active on the CYO programs (City Youth Organization) for the kids in Central Falls during the summer months. You may know of them. Mr. Arage teaches also, but it's not clear to me where he does that. It is about Ed that I wish to expound upon during this letter. Please bear with me. I'm sure you'll find something of interest here.

Ed's reluctance to write may stem from an incident that occurred when we were boys playing in Jenks Park together some thirty-one years ago. He was always the consummate athlete and excelled at every sport. I, on the other hand, was average.

I did pride myself on was my wrestling ability. I had never been beaten. This was mainly due to the fact that I had tremendous strength of shoulders and biceps and my forearms had strong bones that were close to the surface. My most devastating hold was a headlock, which I would then proceed to grind my forearm into my opponent's neck until he hollered "uncle." Most of my adversaries gave up once I got that hold on them. Ed, however, was different.

We had agreed that punching was out but other than that, it was no-holds-barred wrestling. Ed, by the way, stood a good head taller than I. It didn't take me long to get my headlock on him, but try as I might, I could not get him to give up. He had the strongest neck of anyone I'd ever wrestled! Eventually, I had to shift to another hold because I tired with that one and it wasn't successful in achieving my goal. I went to a scissors around his waist, but he had me down on my back on the ground. I squeezed a little bit, and he grimaced with pain. I had found his Achilles' heel!

At one point, he raised his fist as if to hit me in the face and make me let go. Our friends were watching, though, and were quick to point out that this action had been agreed upon to be not fair. He didn't strike, and with a final squeeze of the scissors, gave up.

I don't know if Ed has been holding animosity against me all these years for that little episode. I certainly hope not. As far as I know, that was the only chink in his armor. He and Bill Nicynski were always admired by me as being the greatest athletes of the school in those days.

I hope you have found something of interest in this narrative, Jen. I know it's mostly about what boys do, but after all, that's what I am and that's what we did for amusement. It was all part of growing up in Central Falls.

Do write to me again, Jen. You should have some background history on me by now and can pinpoint your questions to areas that you might want to hear more about. I'm always happy to get mail and will answer all letters as soon as I can.
I remain,


Your new friend,


John E. Hunt


Dear Mr. Hunt,

I heard about what happened to you and I hope you feel better. My name is Feona, I am fifteen and a big fan of basketball. I live on Pine Street where there's a school called Captain G. Harold Hunt. It has 1st through 4th grade. It is fun watching the kids run to school every morning because my house is right next to it. There is also a bar on Pine Street too. I forget the name of it but it's for grown-ups. There's a factory that makes and packs cards called Paramount. It's really big and that's about all the excitement of the street, except for the people, who are really nice.

I have some questions I want to ask you about the old days. I know I probably made you feel old, but I really don't think you are old in your forties. Well anyway, here are my questions: I want to know how did parents treat their kids back then? Did they let them out a lot? Were there a lot of parties around? Were there a lot of different kinds of kids in school, like hippies? Were the teachers nice back then? My last question is, were you popular in high school and if so, in what way? Like were you the star of the basketball team or something like that?

Well, that's it for now. I hope you write back. It would be a pleasure hearing from you and please excuse my handwriting.

Thank you,

Feona

P.S. Hope you'll feel better and I also forgot one question: Was there a lot of peer pressure back then?



Dear Feona,

I loved getting your letter! It was so very original and posed so many important questions that need to be addressed, that I'm afraid it will take me the better part of three hours to compose an answer for you. This will be a long letter, and I hope you enjoy it and pass along the information to your classmates.

Pine Street is one I believe I remember. The Paramount Card Company rings a bell anyway. If I'm not mistaken, that is a greeting card company and not playing cards. I also remember a bar on that street, more than one, if memory serves me correctly. I don't remember the school you mentioned, even though my brother and father were both named Harold Hunt. I'm sure he was no relation to our family.

It is refreshing to hear a youngster like yourself say that being in your forties is not too old. When I was your age, forty seemed ancient to me. Actually, you are quite right. I'm forty-eight and not really old. My health is bad, so physically I feel old, but I try to keep my mind young by staying curious about everything.

Some of the questions you asked are important and need to be addressed. I would say that it differed with each family, depending on the circumstances. In my case, my father was gone on a Navy assignment someplace whenever we lived in Central Falls. My mother had to raise my brother and me by herself. Sometimes she worked during the interval of separation as a Creeler/Doffer at Coates & Clark in Central Falls. So yes, guess you could say I had a lot of freedom and might even be compared to what is called today, a latch-key kid. Mom only expected me to stay out of trouble, get good grades in school, and be home on time for supper. I managed to do all of that pretty good.

Other families had different situations, and some of my friends' parents kept a pretty tight rein on them. Mostly though, we had fun and freedom enough to enjoy ourselves. The diverse racial and ethnic groups present today in C.F., were also present in my day. That made for some very good times because we learned more about each others customs' and ways of life. A favorite pastime I enjoyed was going to my friends' houses to eat the different native foods.

Hippies didn't appear on the scene until the sixties, Feona. That was during Kennedy's presidency and shortly thereafter. The flower children were trying to stop the war in Vietnam and wanted universal peace, a noble aim, I must admit, but not really practical in the times.

I don't know how much student radicalism there was in C.F. because by that time, I was in the Navy myself. A lot of good songs came out of that era, and I just caught a show the other night on TV with Peter, Paul, and Mary back together for a reunion show. The songs brought back a lot of memories.

We kids had a lot of pressures also from our peers and from the times. They weren't the same kinds of pressures that youngsters of today have to live with. Drugs were almost non-existent and the communications media weren't so quick to jump on world catastrophes and present them to you over the supper table or breakfast table as a fact of life. We didn't have nuclear holocaust hanging over our heads constantly. People cared more for each other, or so it seemed. Teen suicides seldom happened and their morals were not corrupted by the environment we live in, such as has happened in a lot of places today.

When a boy and girl went on a date, they usually kept their clothes on for the duration. That's not to say that we didn't kiss and pet, which was acceptable for the times. Parties we attended were usually school or church functions and were well chaperoned.

I wasn't a star at school either. Nothing could be further from the truth. I generally wore a tie to school (one of the few oddball affectations I had) and was quite studious. My nose would generally be buried in some book or other. We only had one study period during the latter part of the day, and I would usually have my homework finished by the end of that period. After school, if I didn't go to the library to get some reading material, I would go home and get my bike and head for Frank or Jim's house or Jenks Park or what was then Ashley Field. There was always something to do and someone to do it with. On weekends, I would pedal over to my cousin's place in Pawtucket and we would ride our bikes to the roller-skating rink, where I could fall with the best of skaters.

I notice I got another letter from some guy named Al who lives at the same address as you. I can only assume that he is your brother. He appears to be the strong, silent type, judging by his reticence to converse with me. Perhaps by now he has enough background information on me that we can find something to talk about. Ask him for me, if you will, to write again but not to feel sorry about my operation. It has probably made my quality of life more enjoyable these past nine years.

Unfortunately, one doesn't get better from coronary artery disease and lung disease. These two nasties were brought about by smoking and high-cholesterol levels in the blood caused by poor diet.

I finally quit smoking of necessity in 1985, after thirty-three years. That is a very nasty habit and one of the most insidious because it is so hard to break that habit.

After the heart operation, the dietitians let me know what foods to eat and what not to eat. That's kind of like putting the horse before the cart. If you take or have taken home economics classes in school, Feona, and they teach you about diet, please pay attention.

The teachers I had at C.F.H.S. were great. Mr. Ed Corrigan was my civics teacher and taught student driving in a dual-control car. He was a small man with a heavy, dark, three-o'clock shadow. He expected perfection in the workbooks we handed in and he graded accordingly. His sense of humor was contagious if a bit wry at times. His sister, Blanche, was my homeroom teacher.

Mr. Keough was strict also. He taught geometry and had a compass for an arm, I think. Geography and history were taught by a Mr. McKenna who was a refugee from Czechoslovakia. He had come to the U.S. just before his country was invaded by Russia. He spoke with a heavy accent, but his first hand descriptions of life in Europe were fascinating.

English composition and literature were always my favorite subjects, but I cannot recall who it was that taught me. Whoever it was must have taught me excellently because I can still diagram a sentence properly and my writing skills have stood me in good stead over the years. I also developed a deep and abiding love of the written word.

My French teacher was good also, but alas, I have forgotten her name too, even though I can still recall her face. She used to wear her hair in a bun at the nape of her neck, which I thought old-fashioned, but it suited her personality.

I believe this letter has answered most of your questions, Feona. If it is a good letter, it should generate more questions or interest. If it does, please write to me again.

Your friend,

John E. Hunt



Dear John,

Hello! How are you? Fine I hope. My teacher, Mister Patenaude told us, the ninth grade class, all about you. I heard you went to my school. It's really different!

I live on a pretty good street. I think a lot of punks live on my street! But you can make it through it!

Well I wish I could write more but it's pretty hard to write to someone you really don't know! Will you please respond to my letter. I would really appreciate it, thank you!

Yours truly,

Michelle


Dear Michelle,

Per your request, I am responding to your letter. Well, I said I would, didn't I? Don't look so surprised! Yes, I agree that it is hard to write someone you don't know and that is why we are writing. After this letter then, you will not be able to say you don't know me. I will expect an appropriate response from a friend.

Let's take another little hiatus here and have a shipboard adventure. No, not when I was in the Navy, but my return to the States from Argentia, Newfoundland, in 1959.

My brother, Harold, hadn't been with us in NFLD because he was aboard the USS Forrestal, an aircraft carrier, at Norfolk, Virginia. The plan was for me and my father and mother to take a small passenger ship out of Saint John's, Newfoundland, the capital, down the coast to New York Harbor where a catalog-ordered, new Buick automobile was to be waiting for us to pick up; thence by car to Norfolk for my brother, and return by car to New England to visit relatives.

My parents and I boarded the ship in Saint John's Harbor on a cold and blustery day. The whitecaps on the water were heavy and were throwing off spume. We were shown to our cabin, which, while small, was quite luxurious and had two large bunk beds. The three of us would share the cabin for the five-day trip to New York.

Saint John's sits within a sheltered harbor some three miles long and no more than half a mile wide, with cliffs or hills surrounding this bight. The housing along both shores was low-lying for protection from the winds; it was colorful and spread out, with a lot of docks and piers jutting into the harbor. It is a fishing town just like Placentia, only bigger. Cod was the main industry, with lobstering running a close second.

As I said, the day we departed was blustery and it is a rule of the government that ships navigating the harbor in rough weather had to carry a pilot to navigate the inlet into or out of the harbor. Our pilot joined us on a small mail packet (maybe all of twenty-five feet long), which angled alongside as we were leaving the harbor. I marvel today at the dexterity of those boat-handlers. The packet looked like a cork as it came up on us. The pilot did not hesitate to jump to our ship. A very agile man that. Just after leaving the harbor, the packet drew alongside once again and the pilot departed with it back to the harbor. We were on our own for the next five days.

The first two days were all rough weather and poor Mom couldn't hack it. She stayed in the cabin mostly, groaning and heaving alternately. She looked ghastly. I only had one moment of doubt before I got my sea legs and began to enjoy the trip. Of course, Dad was an old salt from way back and wasn't troubled by seasickness. He had to take care of my mother, though, and that wasn't pleasant.

There were about thirty passengers aboard but due to the mode of travel, we were seldom all together at the same time. Invariably, someone was confined to the cabins with the heaves. Several were strangers for the whole trip. My favorite time of day was when the steward walked the passageways with his little chimes and playing various cheerful tunes. This was the call to meals. I enjoyed this the most and after the first couple of days, even my mother began to enjoy the trip. Of course, it helped that we were in calmer waters. Entertainment revolved around parlor games and the movies. It wasn't a large luxury liner like you see on Love Boat. Still, we had a very nice sea voyage for our return and when we pulled into New York Harbor and I saw the Statue of Liberty for the first time, it was a very stirring moment.

We picked up the car and traveled to Virginia to get my brother. From there, we went back up Highway 1 to New England to visit the relatives. While in Massachusetts with them, I did manage to cross into Central Falls, and see some of my friends, and attend a high school basketball game. I have alluded to that game in another letter, so I won't go into detail here. Suffice it to say that my return visit, of necessity, was short, and I didn't get to see all of my friends.

I'm looking forward to my visit next year if God wills it. Maybe I'll see more of my friends, and I will make it a point to visit with Mr. Patenaude's class if he will have me. Before that time arrives, we have time to get better acquainted through our letters. I will be expecting you to write again then. Until that time, I remain

Your new friend,

John E. Hunt



Dear Mr. John E. Hunt,

Hi! My name is Sara and I'm a Cape Verdean. I've lived in Central Falls for about eight years. I have six brothers and six sisters and they're all alive. Nine of them live at home, one is in the navy, and the other two got married.

Central Falls is a very nice place to live at, and most of the people down here are very nice. Most of them are Colombians. Some of the people are very prejudiced but most of the time it's nice.

The only thing that really bugs me is that they call Central Falls the cocaine capital, and that's very rude.

John, I really want to know why you left C.F. to go to Georgia. By what I read of the letter, I felt very sad inside. So I really had to write to you.

Well, I gotta go. Hope you get very well fast so you can come visit C.F.


Bye,

Sara

Write back soon please.





Dear Sara,

Your letter, especially, came as a treat. Why? Because I had never before had occasion to find out about Cape Verde, so you forced me to break out my atlas and look it up. A group of about ten islands, 16.00N and 24.00W, it is an independent nation founded by Portugal about 350 miles off the coast of Senegal, Africa, and with a population of approximately 150,000. How am I doing, young lady? Do I get the cigar?

My goodness, I had forgotten what the words "large family" meant until I got your letter. To have six brothers and six sisters must mean you are number thirteen. You don't tell me where you fit on this ladder. Surely you are not the baby? You must truly lead an interesting life with all those siblings to emulate. Good luck to you.

I have written about thirty letters thus far and have covered most of the material I had planned to cover between my birth and my entry into the military. There are still about twenty more letters to answer, though, so I can see that I will have to venture into the military aspect of my life shortly. Not yet, though, shall I do that, because I still have a short piece of the story to tell here prior to my entry into the military.

Newfoundland and the visit with the relatives in New England was behind us and we had settled in to our new home at Virginia Beach, Virginia (actually about seventeen miles from the beach). I started school at Princess Anne High School on Virginia Beach Boulevard, about five miles from the beach proper.

The school was much bigger than I was used to. Classes had in excess of thirty students. Teachers were not able to devote as much time to individuals as had been done at my previous school. I'd missed about two months of school just traveling and visiting relatives. That, coupled with the fact that I had to learn the dreaded trigonometry that year and couldn't get a grip on it, lead to low marks on my report card (some C's and even a D). I hadn't received low marks like that before, and it was very discouraging.

Bob Pellitier was a new friend I met and a kindred spirit. He too, was unhappy in school. We began skipping classes and going to the beach. Occasionally, we bought some beer (I could pass easily for twenty-three, even though I was only nineteen ... maybe I was just ugly) and went partying along the shoreline someplace. I didn't have a car of my own yet, but Bob's parents let him use their car all the time.

We talked of how discouraged we were with school and planned to enter the Air Force together. One night at the Beach, we partied a little too much, and we had an accident with the car on the way back. We hit a tree. The police made out a report and took us to Bob's house where he was promptly grounded. I had to call my folks to come and pick me up and explain to them what had happened. They were not happy and grounded me also.

I had three months to go until graduation, but I had no guarantee of that happening either. One day I went to the Air Force recruiter by myself and filled out the necessary paperwork. I had to get permission from my parents to enter, but after my current difficulties, I didn't think they would mind if I cut the apron strings.

I got the permission, but later when I went back to the recruiter, I passed a Navy recruiting office and stopped in there to see what they had to offer. I took their test, had an interview, and they told me I would make a good radioman in the Navy. It sounded good so I signed a commitment. About a month later, I got a notice to report to Richmond, Virginia for induction into the Navy.

My boot-camp days at Great Lakes Naval Training Center will be chronicled shortly. Before I leave this letter, though, I want to make it plain that I did get a high school GED diploma and a first-year college GED certificate while in the service. Additionally, the schools I went to in the Navy and Army, and my continuing education at Augusta College and Augusta Technical Institute after my retirement from the service should indicate the proper emphasis I personally place on getting a good education. I hope anyone hearing my narrative will realize that and not go off half-cocked and join the military. It does have its drawbacks.

Having written the foregoing admonition, I will endeavor to tell those aspects of my military life that seem to me most interesting, and I hope you and your classmates will find it is so.

Until next time then,

Your new friend,

John E. Hunt


************************************************************************************

Dear Allison,

It would appear that I made a horrible mistake almost two years ago. I must have gotten your letter confused with another letter from a girl named Heather _______. I answered her, but can find no record of my ever having answered you. It is only now, during the course of my rewriting the book I'm trying to publish, that I came across your letter.

You wrote a wonderful, informative letter and I did you a disservice in not answering it. I will try to rectify that mistake now and can only hope you'll forgive me for overlooking your very nice letter.

Many of your classmates also pointed out the addition to the school in 1975, but you gave more details then they did. The cafeteria is a new item which wasn't there during my tenure. Is the gym you mentioned an additional gym than the one that was already there? The sports offered at the school differ in that we didn't have football, wrestling, soccer or softball.

Kim _______ was nice enough to send me some pictures of Central Falls and the school. I cannot see the addition to the school from the angle she took the picture. It still looks like the same old school to me.

Did you stay with the cheerleading squad Allison? Are you still cheerleading today during your junior year? I had a secret love who was a cheerleader in 1957. Her name was Marsha Gosenski and she was a vision of loveliness while leading the cheers at basketball games. She never knew of my love for her because I was too shy to approach her. In enticing girls to my side, I would probably have received a grade of D minus in those days.

Since last I wrote your classmates (early 1989), I've undergone another triple bypass heart operation (in November). I was doing great until May of this year when I had a relapse. One or more of the bypasses has closed up. The doctors say they will not operate a third time to make corrections; it would be too risky. They are attempting to keep everything under control with medications. So far, so good, but I can feel a gradual weakening of stamina and an occasional angina attack lets me know my time in this world is limited. I try to keep busy with my writing and to stay curious about the world around me. I'm hoping to see this book published.

I'm still writing to some of your classmates, but most have lost interest in writing to an old man. Susana _____ has written me several letters from Portugal. She's living with her Dad now. Unfortunately, having to pick-up on the Portuguese language again after nine years, she will have to take the 10th grade classes again this year. She says she has adjusted well otherwise. I've got to answer her letter this weekend.

D______ still writes on a regular basis. I'm trying to interest her in starting a correspondence with my nephew who is seventeen and a junior this year also. I'm waiting to hear if she's written him and received an answer. T____ hasn't written in some time but she used to write often also. I suppose other things have taken her interest (boys). It's that time of life.

It's unpardonable that I missed you on the first go-around Allison. I hope this letter will make-up, in some small measure, for the mistake I made. Perhaps you will feel kindly enough to answer in return.

Your friend,

John E. Hunt



E P I L O G U E


Since the completion of this book, it has been edited by a publisher, several letters and pictures have been added, and an additional copy made and they both made the rounds to various publishers.

In November of 1989, I underwent my second heart bypass operation. It was a limited success, because one or more of the bypasses closed up in May. Still, I shall remain in this world a little longer to amuse my friends and confuse my foes.

In the interim, I've continued to correspond with a number of students at Central Falls Junior/Senior High School, in Rhode Island, and we have become well acquainted. Most no longer ask about my past, but use me to bounce ideas off or just an ear to listen to their problems or dreams. I feel I'm serving a purpose anyway.

I've also heard from two of my old cronies, Mr. Frank Juchnik and Mr. Jim Panichas. We are in the process of bringing each other up to date on the events in our lives. I'm hoping that they will be able to put me in touch with additional friends later.

Mr. Carlos Silva, the mayor of Central Falls, stepped down in September, 1989 and a new mayor was elected.

Another of my friends, Mr. Ed Anderson, passed away several years ago from a heart attack. I'm told that he too, did quite well financially. He also was on the '59 winning basketball team for the school, and is in the team picture I sent Mr. Patenaude.

Mr. Patenaude has since retired from the faculty of Central Falls High School.

Not enough enthusiasm could be raised among the alumni of the class of '59 to warrant holding a thirty year reunion. That milestone is forever gone, a casualty of apathy.

My brother, Harold, who is mentioned periodically in this book, died one day short of his 53rd birthday. He was buried here in Augusta, with full military honors.

I've started on a sequel to this book, which takes up the story from 1965 to present. That story, however, will be told in narrative form, not in a letter format. It will cover my three tours of duty in Korea, two tours in Viet Nam, a partial tour in Germany, and some stateside adventures in Colorado, Kansas, Ohio, Oklahoma and Georgia. That book will be called "Nostalgia X2." Keep an eye out for it!

JEH