A Tibute to Our Parents

The gang I hung around with in the 60s and 70s are all well into adulthood now. Several of the guys are now grandparents. This week I recieved word that one of the parents of a friend had died. This week his funeral will be held in the church tha I attended as a child. The same church which sponsored the Boy Scout troop where I made the rank of Eagle Scout in 1970. Seems like some of us stayed behind.

This gave me pause to think about how lucky we were back then. I do not know if our parents saw each other socially, but I do know that they cared about us. They cared enough to be good role models and to show an interest in what we were doing. Several of them served on the toop committee. One of them served as our scoutmaster for a time. Even my dad, who was no great woodsman, came out camping with us on occasion. The important part was that they cared and it showed.

Outside of our group, we had many other adults that we could look up to. At the high school, Gerry T., the gym teacher who was also a Scouter helped this handicapped youth get several important merit badges. At the Police station, the Juvie officer, Al Costa, had a smiling face and an easy dispostion for the good kids. Heaven help you if you ran afoul of the law. Your parents would most certainly hear about it. In the house next door to ours, lived Florian Marquis Jr.. Everyone called him Junior, but to us kids he was Mr. Marquis. He ran a service station that was just across the tracks. At one time or another, he fixed every car in the area and knew all of the adults. During the Blizzrd of 78, we made a total neighboorhood effort, just to get his tow truck free of our street. He was already playing a role in my life, but more of that another time.

I am not saying that we had it good, or that we had perfect childhoods, but in the 60s and 70s in Woonsocket R.I. Our neighborhood was a good place to grow, Our parents saw to it.