Who?

Remembering past eras, so many faces pop to mind. I recall where we first met but not their names. Seventh grade music class or orchestra, math or English classes; I remember these people because they forged something in my mind to remember them by. Workshop class – remember those? – and the guys who took the work seriously and the many who did not. I did and appreciated the skills I then shared with my dad in our basement shop at home.

I even remember many of my teachers, not by name, but by grade and subject taught. I remember those teachers from high school very well; have over these past seven decades. Funny how that is. My sister does as well. We shared several teachers back then being only 17 months apart in age. She often forged the way and made it easier for me when I encountered the same teachers. Fun to do that, too.

I remember the kids in our church groups in the evening and on weekends. I remember the people in the choirs I sang in. Again, no names. Then there were the kids in our neighborhood. The Wynn's, Goggins', Hartwell's and Pillblad's. I remember most of their first names, but not their parents’. These kids helped me meet the world head on and learn what lay ahead. They taught me woods lore, wild plants and berries, as well as forest-based flowers and shrubs. This was western Massachusetts. The Berkshires. An amazing place with both landscapes for miles to awe the mind. And culture – music, theater, dance and visual arts as well.

Such a rich and splendid area in which to come of age. Classical music was my focus. Choral music, too. The Boston Symphony summered nearby with several musicians living in neighboring homes. The landscape was dotted with private liberal arts colleges which offered many small concerts and a wide selection of theater productions throughout the academic year.  Of course, this was the age of Sputnik and we students were all encouraged to take our studies seriously. They wanted us to be engineers and scientists. The coursework was challenging and the competition for high grades even tougher. We survived and went on to colleges and grad schools. Now I wonder where they went and what they did with their lives.

Some of these kids I searched for on the internet. No luck. Now that I’ll be visiting the area in a few weeks, I wonder if I’ll find any of them still living there. I doubt it. Population has plummeted in recent years. Back in 1960, Pittsfield, MA was 54,000 population. Today it is about 42,000. It is still the mecca for culture and winter sports, however. Boston and New York City denizens still visit the area heavily throughout the year.

October 30, 2023

 

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