My life's beginings.

Chronological Life of Joe Bednarz - Birth, Dreams and Reality up until graduation from High School


Here goes….

I started out trying to decide on a theme for my story.  When I decided to write about myself, I sort of “inventoried” my repertoire of experiences and events that have occurred in my life.  The one common theme, outside of girls and cars was airplanes.  Originally, I’d intended to make aviation the overall theme but as I began recalling other life experiences, I decided not to exclude those but add them into the mix. So, while my introduction with aviation began at an early age and continues to the present day , other subjects and areas of interest will weave their way through this story.  Some kids relate well to sports and remember their first ball game or marble match.  They can vividly recall specific highlights of games especially when their accomplishment or effort became a deciding factor in the final outcome of the event.  Still others relate better to remembering friends and acquaintances and associating those individuals with a remarkable or noteworthy experience like the first day of school.  Who can’t remember the name of their first grade teacher?  Those kinds of things leave indelible marks on our memories like ink spots on a clean, white shirt or spilled gravy on the table cloth.


Friends have asked me how at my age I’ve been able to recall events and people that were part of my life 50 or more years ago? Well, first I have been blessed with a good memory and naturally able to recall many of my experiences. I also practice a technique I call mentalteleportation. First I think of a time or place in which I can recall something;  a small tidbit; a specific incident or observation. It might be as simple recollection of something someone said and I overheard and for whatever reason, I remembered. Her eis an example of what I’m describing. One day in 1960 I boarded a school bus for the trip home from school. The busses gathered in a semicircle in front of the school. The driver of our bus I remember. While the buses waited, sometimes the drivers would stand around outside and chat. This day one of the drives remarks to my bus driver that he was driving a new bus. Our driver replied saying “yes, they give me the new buses to break in”. Now from that seemingly innocent remark, I’m back in 1960 sitting on a school bus waiting to go home. I begin to think of what I’m going to do after school, my paper route, where I will go; each of those thoughts connecting and building upon other memories. I focus on that item. I mentally bring myself back to that time and place. I relax and begin to “see” the environment around me. In other words, mentally, I’m back at that time. From that point on, I allow my memory to recapture the next event. I ask myself, what else happened next after the initial recollection?l This jumps around a bit but as the thoughts flow in, I begin to capture the moments. Sometimes I write them down and use that as sort of as a virtual “wormhole” to think back to other subjects. Try it yourself. Think of a trip or  vacation you’ve enjoyed. Have the place visually fixed in your mind and then starting thing about all that you did; the dinner, the events, what you liked. Keep thinking and jotting down what you remember and don't worry that thoughts might not be related or connected. That will come later. if you have pictures or letters, view them. Old home movies are great instruments to think back to another time. Keep a pad a paper handy and jot down simple recollections. Oftentimes, those recollections will result in other remembrances and can spin off in all sorts of directions. What you are doing is mentally, reliving the past.  Your mind is virtually back at that period of time - mental teleportation.


My Life’s beginning

My life probably began somewhere around 1946 when my parents, Frank and Barbara were married in my hometown of Glastonbury. I say began only in the theoretical sense as that would be a biological impossibility having been actually born in 1948. Let us just say that it more than likely Frank and Barbara must have discussed having children as part of their courting and marriage thing.

I “arrived” on July 22nd in the year 1948 at Hartford Hospital. My father was already employed as a letter carrier in town and Mom worked in the administration office of the government housing project where we lived until 1952 when we moved into our own house on Spring Street.  Glastonbury at that time was dealing with the normal expansion of commerce and growth since it had only been some 3 year since the end of WWII. Times were booming and things like television, multiple family cars and refrigerators were rare. In fact, television was pretty much non-existent in town as my father was one, if not the first to have one of the miracle boxes.  In 1948-49 my father with the help of his friend Eddie Laski constructed a TV and operated it in our government rental home in Wells Village. In those small, postage stamp back yards my father had erected a “tower” sufficiently strong enough to support, not only his weight but that of the beam antenna that sat on top of this tower and positioned to capture the weak TV signal of channel 5 out of New York.  According to Mom, those two worked hours on this equipment and were eventually successful as evidenced by some of our early home movies.

Wells Village was a housing development constructed by the government to house employees of our largest defense contractors, primarily Pratt & Whitney in East Hartford.  These were all small, two family affairs and my father not only lived there but had the village as his primary mail route as a letter carrier in town. We lived in a two family ay 22 Deming Road.  In 1948 Glastonbury was indeed a rural community and its largest commence was farming. The village was situated right on the Glastonbury/East Hartford town line and was considered strictly “blue collar”. Everyone knew most everyone else and being the son of the mailman, everyone knew who I was.  Later in life that turned into somewhat of a liability for me but in my early years it was pretty standard.  Houses sat on top of each other and neighborhood friendships were strong.  While my mother did not work once I was born, she would have no difficulty in finding someone to watch over me should the need to run an errand arise. Mrs. Leonard was a next door neighbor and there are stories of her caring for me and introducing me to fish sticks.


These were the immediate post war times and the economy was getting back to normal. People had jobs and were earning money.  War veterans were home and families were starting.  It was the beginning of what we now call “Boomers”; the baby boom right after the war.  One of the big restrictions during the war was the availability of automobiles since all industrial production was limited to war goods.  American auto manufacturers made guns, airplanes and tanks instead of Fords and Chevys and their dealers were selling cars as soon as they could build them. When I was born in 1948 my Dad owned a 38 Chevy sedan. He traded that for a new 49 Chevy and later for a 51 model.  The 1951 model had some form of design problem with the single speed automatic transmission and according to my father; it was a real “dog”.  In 1953 I recall we went shopping to various Chevy dealers looking to trade in the “dog”.  Since my father was a disabled war veteran, the government not only gave him money for a car, they also paid for certain options that would supposedly make driving for him easier. Eventually, we settle on a fancy (for the time) 1953 Chevrolet 2 DR Bel Air hardtops. It was two-tone green with fender skirts (covers for the rear wheels) large white wall tires. Inside was green checked upholstery.  It had a 6 cylinder “Blue Flame” engine with a 2 speed Powerglide automatic transmission that would later fail and give my father grief for months.  They purchase the car from a salesman named Harry Kam at Sloate Chevrolet in Hartford. My mother told me that for a year or so afterwards, I would tell everyone “If you want a good deal on a car, see Harry Cam!”  Coming from a 5 year old, I guess that was pretty funny.

Back then, getting a large ticket item was cause for showing it off to all the neighbors and relatives.  A new car was at the top of the list and I’m sure my parent hosted a picnic or two for the family.  In 1953 all of our family with the possible exception of my Uncle Dutch was in the immediate vicinity. Later, most of my aunts and uncles on my mother’s side relocated to Florida or California. Picnics were at home or at Eastbury pond (also a favorite place) and were an opportunity for the entire family to gather.  Most everyone smoked cigarettes and drank beer and these gatherings would sometimes get a little rowdy or argumentative especially when one of my uncles had “one too many”.  Of course there was always a bottle or two being passed around to “spike” the beer and with all of my uncles also being war veterans, it was customary for them to “unwind” and nobody said much; or at least waited until we arrived back home. My uncle Francis was in the Merchant Marine as I recall and my Uncle Al was in the Submarine Service and saw action in the Pacific. He was aboard the submarine Cavalla that sank the large Japanese carrier “Shikoku”.  My Uncle George was in the Marines but served after WWII. Finally, my Uncle Ted being the so called “baby” of the family was too young to serve. He was also 6 foot 7 inches was too tall anyway. He was the “baby” being the youngest, certainly not the smallest! My mother with the help of my aunts would assemble all of the food and there was plenty to go around. If the event was held at Eastbury Pond, we would cook in the large open fireplace and the fare would be burgers and hot dogs. At home, in the back yard they would have access to the kitchen and serve all kinds of things including chicken or ribs in addition to the burgers and dogs usually cooked over the next door neighbor’s fireplace.  These were fun times because all of my cousins would be there and I would have someone to play with.  All being Boomers, there were my two cousins, Andrea and Gail, my cousin John and cousins Teddy and Linda.  There were also kids from friends who would often attend plus a neighbor or two so all in all there were plenty of kids to have fun.  Lawn games were normal as was playing cowboys and Indians. Sometimes we would play cops and robbers but it was sometimes difficult to find a kid to play the part of being the robbers.  I guess everyone preferred to wear a white hat and be the good guy.

Around 1952 we moved from Wells Village to our new house on Spring Street where I spent my entire life up until I was either in the Army or was married. Spring Street was a quiet street that was bisected by Route 17 which was constructed in the early fifties.  Originally, Spring Street was part of the Dickau tobacco farmland until lots were sold off for construction. With a few exceptions, most of the homes were all constructed in the very early fifties and ours was probably one of the later homes. The house was sort of a Cape Cod style with everything on one floor. As you entered the house from the side porch, you were in a large kitchen overlooking the main road. (My mother liked to see who was coming to visit!) Off the kitchen was the dining room which was separated from the living room by a pair of French doors. The other side of the kitchen was a hallway which provided access to the two downstairs bedrooms and the single bathroom. There was also a door leading to the attic and the two unfinished rooms upstairs. The house also had a full basement where my father had his workshop and later my Lionel trains.

Spring Street was a short street, about ½ mile long that connected to Main Street at one end and Bantle Road at the other. Bantle Road was really just a service road that ran alongside RT 2 & 17 when that was built. In fact for years there was never a name of this road and we always referred to it as a “service road. Just before it turned hard right into Spring Street, there was an entrance ramp onto RT 2 & 17. RT 17 and RT 2 were limited access highways that connected Glastonbury, and South Glastonbury with both East Hartford (Pratt & Whitney) and eventually the bridges into the city of Hartford.

Somewhere around 1955 or so, my father had a two car garage and breezeway added to our home.  The house sat of a 100X150 foot lot which I mowed as a kid.  Along the rear property line was a row of raspberries separating our land from the Dickau tobacco field.  As I grew older, we would pick these berries and I would sell them to the neighbors to earn spending money.  My mother and I would pick and place the berries in pint and quart containers.  I would place these in my wagon and go from house to house.  As time went on, I would receive orders for berries so it didn’t take much selling. My other source of income was mowing the lawn.  The yard was large and even with the extra large gardens; it was a big place to mow especially with a “Pennsylvania" reel style mower.  The grass need to be cut weekly and when finished, I was paid 50 cents for my labor.  This was paid right up until 1958 when my father bought our boat.  Once we had the boat, Dad said we need to put all the extra money towards the boat so I lost the “allowance” but still mowed the lawn.

Growing up on Spring Street was a bit lonely for me.  Next door there were two older kids, and boy and girl.  The boy was probably 10 years older and the girl 7 or 8.  Across the street were two girls, Kathleen and Carlene. Bother were 5 or so years older.  The only person my age was Cheryl Fuller and she lived 4 houses up from ours.  Cheryl and I played together quite a bit and for a number of years until playing with girls became unfashionable!  Down the street is where the Senyk’s lived; Lee and his two twin cousins, Judy and Jane.  A couple houses down from us on the same side were another boy, Paul Blake but again he was 5-6 years older.

Early on I had my dog, Prince.  Prince was a thorough bred Collie and was fun to have around.  The biggest problem with Prince was his “taking off” when not chained or watched carefully.  He would also chase cars and one day was hit by one and had to have his hip pinned. I recall going out in the woods in the back of our house to explore and Prince was with me.  I must have gotten disoriented and basically lost.  Prince was with me and that gave me comfort so eventually, I just followed Prince and we found our way back home.  We were probably never more than a ½ mile from the house but it was still a comfort having my dog with me.

There was one incident that I can recall that must have really scared my parents.  A new boy by the name of Bobby Taylor moved into one the of Dickau rentals.  Bobby was a year or two older than I but we did play together when I was very young. I don’t remember him very well so I imagine there were on Spring Street for probably a year or two.  I must have been 4-5 years old and was itching to go to school.  Bobby had just started first grade and he decided he was going to “show” me his new school.  Off we went through the woods to Naubuc School. I’m not certain what time that was but I do recall I was playing with Bobby in his yard.  We must have been gone a while and my mother started looking for me.  Bobby and I were oblivious to what happened as we were walking around the school yard as he showed me his classroom.  As it got later in the afternoon, we walked back into the woods and eventually out onto Spring Street where we met up with a whole bunch of people including firemen.  They were all looking for two lost boys! We even got our name in the paper for that one!  But, it does demonstrate the closeness of the neighbors and how quickly a group of people can come together to help other who are in need.

One day the girl across the street got a new bicycle.  It was one of those “English” style bikes with a gear shift and handlebar brakes. It was dark red and probably a Raleigh.  I was impressed with this bike and wanted one real bad.  My father kept telling me all of those English bikes were fussy and would not stand up very well.  Later, I was to learn he was right.  My Dad was usually right about most things although I probably didn’t think so at the time.

Dad was a mailman in Glastonbury. His mail route was Spring Street, House Street, and Griswold Street up to and including Well Village, Wrights Lane and part of Main Street.  He walked eleven miles a day! My Dad weighed about 130 lbs and had a 27 inch waist! Dad would awaken each morning at 6:00 am and Mom would make him two poached eggs and toast.  He would be out the door by 6:30 and at work before 7:00am.  This was the routine every morning:  Dad would get up and put on his uniform and would sit at the kitchen table sipping his coffee with a spoon.  Mom, who had already gotten up would have the eggs finished and put them on the table.  Right around this time, she would be calling me to get up.  By the time I made it to the kitchen, my Dad was already gone and the remains of his breakfast were on the table.

Dad would take the car to work and do so for a reason.  By using his car, he could drive to some of his locations and save about 45 minutes off his allowed time for mail delivery.  By doing so, he would come home for lunch at 11:30 and then drive to Wells Village where he would pick up his mail from a relay box.  Once he was finished with the village, he would come home and take a nap for about 45 minutes until 2:00pm when he would return to the Post Office and sort the mail for the next day.  By 3:30 he was finished for the day and would arrive home.  Usually, he would change into his normal clothes and begin whatever work or project he had previously scheduled; working on the yard, painting the house, weeding the garden, etc.  My Dad was always busy doing something and rarely wasted his time, especially when it was good weather.

Supper was at 5:00pm every day.  I also learned never to be late for supper. Mom did all the cooking and she was good at it.  During the week we would have meat loaf or pot roast or some kind of casserole dish.  On weekends, we would have steak, usually on Sunday afternoon.  Mom would do the steak in the broiler in the winter and in the summer; Dad would cook outside once those “Hibachi’s were invented.  Of course, this was all before propane gas grills became popular.  Meals at home were good and there was always enough to go around.  Occasionally, my mother would cook something like a ham or roast beef and need to stretch that into two meals meaning I could have a second or third slice but needed to watch what was left to be certain we had enough for the next day.  Mom was also good with leftovers and rarely wasted anything.  Both Mom and dad were raised in families that didn’t have extra to eat.  In my mother’s situation, she was one of seven kids so everything was a treat and nothing went to waste (a point that would often be repeated to me as I grew up).  My father was a bit more fortunate as he grew up with his grandmother.  They had chickens and a large garden so generally speaking, they had enough.  Plus, it was just my father and his grandmother.  I never heard him speak of his father and brother being there for dinner although I suppose they must have come frequently.  Since my grandfather had a farm, I’m sure there was extra food available. It’s a funny thing but that is a part of my father's life that is missing and I regret having never gotten the details from him.  I know of course, that my Uncle Tom went to live with the father and help on the farm where my dad was raised by his grandmother.  Why and how this was arranged in this fashion I cannot remember.

Money was somewhat tight in our household.  Dad worked hard and earned a modest wage from the Post Office but certainly nothing significant. Dad also received a small disability pension from the government for his military service and loss of his right arm and it was that money that provided us some of the extras and also allowed my mother to remain at home and not have to work.  Both my Mom and Dad firmly believed in having Mom remain home; first when I was born and later when my brother arrived.  My mother only returned to work when my brother was in high school so she could help pay for his college education. My father also earned a little extra money from repairing televisions and radios for friends. Generally, he would not charge for anything other than the parts but people always gave him something.  It was always an experience to watch my father refuse to take money.  The good side of this was the fact that many of these people whose TV’s Dad repaired were also tradesmen themselves.  Chet Bogushevsky was an auto mechanic and often fixed Dad’ cars.  Alternately, Dad would often travel to Hartford to a man on Francis Street named Wes. Wes had a small one car repair shop and also fixed cars.  Dad would pay him but also fixed his TV so I suppose they had a mutual agreement. There were also plumbers and electricians, carpenters laborers all who pitched in to help us when something needed to be done.  One of Dad’s biggest supporters was his old school chum Eddie Melzen. Eddie was in the TV and Radio business and Dad often helped him on the repair side.  Later on, whenever we needed a new stove or refrigerator, it came from Melzen and never cost us a penny!  Like I said, it was a mutual dependency situation where one person helped another and took their pay in trade.

Mom and Dad had lots of friends and we were always visiting someone or having visitors to our house.  Our visitors often arrived with broken TV’s or radios but it still gave my mother an opportunity to socialize. In the early days, it also gave my Dad an excuse to pour a drink and open a beer or two.  This was usually only on weekends or holidays and I would do my level best to try and steal a sip or two.  I can recall one day when I must have fallen out of the chair and hit my head.  Mom gave Dad all sorts of hell over that claiming it was the liquor that caused it.  Sometimes my uncles would show up and that would be another reason to socialize as sometimes we would not see them for long periods of time or just around the holidays. The liquor and beer would flow and everyone would have a good time. When my father had too much, he would fall asleep. Some get belligerent when under the influence, while others like my Dad, became very passive. Tomato juice in the morning was often the cure for the hangover. In 1957, all of this came to an end as my Dad gave up alcohol of any kind. As I remember, he did it “cold turkey” too.

My early life was that of a typical American family shortly after the war. Generally speaking, the economy was booming, people were prosperous and while never rich, life was comfortable. Early recreation aside from swimming and the beach was the traditional Sunday ride in the car. My Grandparents would join us and it was often a stop for ice cream was part of the agenda. Vacation, early on were road trips to Florida. Much of my mother’s family had relocated to Florida in the fifties so we drove there a number of times. Then, in 1957 my parents were introduced to the concept of “camping”. They met up with a German family in Manchester named Ives and we soon learned all about camping. The country was full of both State and federal parks; many free. In 1957 we embarked on our first of many camping trips. This one was a five week trek to California and back. From this point on, all of our vacations were camping trips and the only things that changed were the lengths of the trip, the destinations and our portable residences. We progressed from one tent to another, and then to a tent/trailer and eventually, to a slide in unit that sat on the back of a pick-up truck. It was those camping trips and time spent with my family that gave me an appreciation for nature and the freedom of the open road.



1948

Born on July 22, 1948 at Hartford Hospital

Lived at 22 Deming Road, Glastonbury, Connecticut (Welles Village Government Housing Project) Moved to 64 Spring Street in 1951

1953

Purchase of Dad’s new car at Sloate Chevrolet.  While in the showroom, I move the shift lever and the car moves! (at age 5)

Bobby Taylor age 6 takes me to his school to show me his classroom.  Mom calls the police and reports me missing.  Police, fireman and neighbors comb the woods searching for the lost boys who finally emerge unscathed.  The next day, an article appears in the local paper telling the world that Joe Bednarz and Robert Taylor we found unharmed (except for the eventual sore behinds)

1954

Age six, I start first grade in Miss Wood’s classroom.

1955

At age 7 I start 2nd grade with Miss Nye.  I recall trying to sing Ole Tannenbaum along with Miss Nye for the entire classroom.

Christmas of 55 was when I received a Lionel 2455 Steam loco set with the silver passenger cars name Hillside, Mapleton and Chatham.

1956

Third Grade with Mrs. Kemp

The summer of 1957 begins our very first camping trip; five weeks to California and back.  Our first campground was Laurel Hills State Park in Pennsylvania.  We drive all the way to Goleta California and visit Uncle Al and later, to San Francisco to visit Uncle Bill and Aunt Jean.  Dan, Uncle Bill and me (fondly referred to as the “trailer”) stop at the local establishments for refreshments (beer) and one stop was DiMaggio’s.  We tour Fisherman’s Warf and ride the cable car’s.

1957

Fourth grade with Miss Fitzgerald.  In October, the Russians launch Sputnik which starts a fascination with science for me.  I construct a model of Sputnik and become the 4th grade’s science expert.   Kids begin to show me their own renditions of man made artificial satellites.

1957 was also the year I received another Lionel train set for Christmas.  This one was a blue and yellow Santa Fe freight set.

1958

On January 6, 1958 there was no school because of a huge snowstorm. It was also the day my brother Paul was born at Saint Francis hospital. I was the proud brother as as Paul grew a few months older, I would take him for walks in his baby carriage up and down Spring Street.

After what seems like years of promising, Dad finally buys a boat.  It is a 15 ½ foot Lyman with a 40 horsepower Scott Atwater motor and a Mastercraft trailer.  We use the boat that summer and during the winter of 58/59, Dad completely refurbished the boat and the trailer to like new condition. I spend hours sitting in this boat in the garage pretending I was driving the boat.  I recall the bow area had a small hatch cover where you could store extra cushions, anchor line, etc.  I used to crawl inside and pretend this was my cabin where I would sleep when afloat.

I enter 5th grade with Mrs. Parsi and become the audio visual projectionist for the school.

1959

Dad and I take the boat out for its shakedown cruise on the Connecticut River in the spring.  We run into severe weather and waves and struggle to the Baldwin Bridge before turning around.  On the return trip, Dad fights the creeping throttle and the steering wheel to keep the boat ahead of the waves.  We finally reach calm water near Haddam and stop at a marina for fuel and hot chocolate.  We finally arrive home, safe and sound vowing never to tell Mom of our experiences!

Dad decides to travel to Southwick Mass and trade the Scott Atwater in for a new 45 HP Mercury outboard.  The dealer asks dad to start the Scott to be certain it ran and the battery goes dead!  The battery is charged and the Scott leaps into life.  The new motor in mounted, control cables run and we head off to a local lake to test run the motor.  Wow, what a smooth and quiet motor!

We spend the summer boating and Mom finally gets over her fear of the water.  Oftentimes, we take the boat out on the river after work and have a picnic supper on the shores of some beach. My brother loved the boat and would fall asleep as soon as we got underway!

I enter the 6th grade and become a safety patrolman, guarding the crossing at Bantle Road.

Mrs. Holder is the teacher and the wife of the principle.

I start building and flying u-control gas model airplanes at Naubuc School.

Uncle Tommy gives me a Cox P-40 U-control airplane as a gift.  One day, I hear the sound of a model airplane flying at Naubuc School and I walk over to investigate.  I find two older boys (Jimmy Sumner and Bruce Drinkwater) flying something.  I tell them I have a plane and they make me go home and get it.  Soon, they have the motor running and the plane is in the air.  Jimmy is doing the flying and before long, he increases the plane’s altitude and waves me to come into the circle with him.  Jimmy has me place my hand around his on the control handle and I’m flying.  I’m so scared.  The plane runs out of fuel and he lands it.  Bruce and Jimmy refuel the plane and restart it for another flight.  I fear the plane is going to crash so I secretly hope it doesn’t start.  The motor screams to life and it in the air once again.  After this flight, one of the landing gear struts breaks on landing.  Jimmy says he’ll take the strut home and make me a new wire.  I go home with my plane almost intact and my life long association with modeling has begun.

1960

I believe this is the year I start Boy Scouts.  My association with cousin Richie and models somehow involves me with the scouts.  The Troop meets and the Academy School and Mr. Lucy is the Scoutmaster.  Mr. Livisey is the assistant scoutmaster and his son Jimmy is one of the leaders.  There is a Scout named Bruce Stenger and he becomes an Eagle Scout.  My patrol Leader is Lenny Cooke. Eventually, I become a Second Class and an assistant patrol leader.  I recall two particular camping trips; the first being a winter trip where we pulled our gear in sleds and slept in a lean-to.  On that trip, I brought mom’s Coleman stove and Ritchie and I had our hot chocolate!  We also took a trip down the mountain on a toboggan with about 6 kids on it.  All were leaning in one direction and a very big kid, last name of Lucy leaned in the opposite direction. We ended up overturned.

The second trip I remember was actually a scout jamboree held at Camp Pioneer.  On this trip, we teamed up with another patrol led by Buzz Ames.  We walked too far into the woods and when we ran out of water cooking a stew, I was tasked with fetching more.  I proceed to get lost and when I finally returned, the stew was burned.

This was the year Mom and Dad rented the Hupfer’s cottage at Chalkier Beach.  Dad brought the boat with us and we moored it off the beach.

1960 was the year I became a paperboy for the Hartford Times.  I purchased the route from Tommy Stanchfield which included Spring Street, Cooper Drive, Wrights Lane, Dickau Court and a few places on Main Street.  Dad used to help me with a relay by bringing my papers and placing them under is mail relay box at wrights Lane.  That way, I didn’t need to walk all the way back home to reload.  I earned between 8 and 10 dollars each week (and much of it was spent on treats until mom started helping me with the financial end.  I was forced to save a certain amount each week and the rest I could use for my hobbies.

1961

I enter 7th grade at Academy School.  This was a year of changes.

First, I could no longer walk to school but need to take a bus.  The bus stop had different kids and some of them picked on me (boys called Bobby Nadeau and another were particularly unfriendly).  I discovered that if I walked up Spring Street and crossed Route 17 (highway), I could take a bus that had many of my old classmates from Wells Village and Griswold Street.  I crossed that highway for 6 years, right up until my senior year.

Seventh grade was the year we moved from class to class.  Now, instead of having one teacher, we had separate teachers for math, social studies, English and science.  My Homeroom teacher and math teacher was a pretty blonde named Miss Cross.  She drove a Volkswagen and lived with the parents of another student.  The English teacher was named Miss Doubleday from Finland.  I cannot recall the others.  The music program was a band headed up by Mr. Dellert.  Since I had been taking Violin lessons in grammar school, I decided to join the band.  I switched instruments and started playing the trumpet (probably because a number of my friends were doing the same thing)  

1962

Eighth grade at the high school.  First experience with shop classes (Wood, Electronics, Metal & Power Mechanics) in this grade, we took all four in abbreviated form.

The high school was a frightening experience at times.  Even though the 8th grade was segregated to one part of the school, older students were all around.  There was illegal smoking in the bathrooms; some kids even carried cigarettes openly in their shirt pockets.  Mr. Norling taught math (and was also the teacher adviser to the model airplane club a few years prior who I met once when Jim Sumner invited me to the High School to fly.) Mr. Yellen was the science teacher.  During school, I was picked on by a number of older kids.  My mother suggested I ask my cousin Alan Lawrence for some help.  Sure enough, after that, some of my problems went away.  8th grade was also the year for an event that would change my life for years.  I had purchased a paper route from my classmate Tom Stanchfield a few years earlier.  Part of this route was on Wrights Lane where a number of little kids lived (a few year younger that I)  Earlier that year I was with two older boys (4 years older) that live on my street; Paul Senyk and Bob Beaupre.  One afternoon or early evening, they decided to head overtop Naubuc school and break some windows. (Yeah, I know a real crazy, stupid thing to do but I guess I decided to tag along because I wanted to be part of the “in” crowd.  Anyway, we pick up some rocks and emerged from the woods in the schoolyard.  Bob and Paul must have run ahead because I had just emerged from the woods into the schoolyard maybe ½ ways to the building.  I was carrying some rocks and then I heard the breaking of glass and it was so loud and scary, I dropped my rocks and ran away.  I must have run home because I knew it was the wrong thing to do and my parents raised me to respect other property.  However, I must have still wanted to be the “big man” around town because a few days later, the kids from Wrights Lane told me the news about the broken windows at Naubuc.  I must have told them it was me and some friends that did it because a few days later, I was called into the principal's office at the High School.  In this office were a couple of police officers and they wanted to asked me what I knew about the windows at Naubuc School.  I must have spilled the whole story because even the cops mentioned they had found a pile of rocks near the woods.  Anyway, they got Bobby and Paul’s names from me and they went after them.  I must have gotten off because I hadn’t done anything but Bobby and Paul were held responsible for their actions.  That event caused there family not to speak with our family for years afterwards.  It also taught me a very good lesson and I stayed out of trouble from that day on.

1963

This was the year I actually started High School.  It was also the year President Kennedy was shot in Dallas, Texas.  I recall being on the bus heading home when I heard the news he had been shot and had died.

A new English teacher is hired and his name is Mr. Stroh. He’s fresh out of college and a sharp dresser and I try to emulate his style; tabbed white shirts or regular collar shirts with gold collar clasps under the narrow ties and sport coats. It was my first awareness of fashion and in particular, how I looked.

1964

My second year of High School. I have my first “crush” on my best friend’s older sister, Nancy Coburn. Dad says when I learn how to drive, he will give me the 53 Chevy as my first car. I begin to work on the old Chevy waiting for the day I turned 16.

1965

My junior year of high School.  That summer I had turned 16 and stayed home from vacation to take drivers Ed.  Upon entering my junior year, I had my driver’s license but was not allowed to drive to school.

After school I worked part time for Ed Melzen picking up and delivering TV’s that were either in the shop for repair or had been purchased new.  Since I had my license, I was able to drive the van and often would be helped by one of the nephews.  Much of this work was done on Saturdays so I was looking for additional work during the week.  Ed had a friend who owned dry cleaners and 2-3 nights a week I would clean the shop.  The work augmented my pay from Melzen and was barely enough to keep my car insured and gassed.

This was also the year I met my first girl friend; Marie Snyder.  She was 13 and lived in a rundown house with 5-7 brothers and sisters next door to Melzen’s.  It took me a long time to finally meet here and take her out but I was able to finally make that happen. Marie and I dated occasionally until I was a senior in High School while she was a freshman.

This was the year that a man from Middletown came to Glastonbury and opened a hobby shop in the shopping center on New London Turnpike.  His name was Don and he wanted help setting up a slot car track.  My cousin John and I spent a great deal of time there helping him set up shop and construct the slot car course.  This fellow slept in a small room at the back of the store and often sung country music and played a guitar to earn extra money.

1965 was the year I really got into working on cars and I was especially interested in auto bodywork and painting.  I found myself hanging around the National Auto Parts store managed by a man named Bob Leonard.  I learned how to mix paint and paint cars.  I painted Jody Dolenga’s 1957 Chevy convertible.  I also hung around the Texaco station in the center of town owned by a family named Colangelo.  I recall painting the owner’s Buick as a touch up.

1966

My Senior Year

Eventually, I gave up my employment at the Dry Cleaners and Melzen’s and was out of work for some time.  The 53 Chevy was replaced by a 54 Ford.  That fall I recall working on tobacco for John Green in South Glastonbury.  I remained unemployed for a short time until a friend of mine (John Hillman) suggested that I apply for work at Monaco Ford.  I was hired by Charlie Monaco but actually worked for Sonny Monaco in the dealerships service department undercoating new cars.  When not occupied that, I would help Tommy D. on the grease rack lubrication cars, vacuuming out the insides and checking tire pressures.  Later, I would get my own toolbox and became an apprentice mechanic working on getting new cars ready for delivery.  Shortly before graduating high school, I talked my mother and father into allowing me to buy a new car at Monaco’s!  A young salesman named Phil Rauch was driving a Mustang in sort of a sports car racing event called a Gymkhana.  It was fun and although I had a 289 Falcon on order, he almost talked me out of it for a Mustang.  Later, when my grades in high school dropped and I was in danger of not graduating, the new car was suspended until I improved (current issues was a problem for me)

Graduated High School and began working full time at Monaco Ford as a new car pre-delivery mechanic while continuing my Connecticut State Apprenticeship status and learning the automotive trades.

In the summer of 1966 after graduation, I turned eighteen and registered for the draft. This was before the lottery system so I knew I would be subject to the draft. I did have a student deferment by virtue of being in the apprenticeship program but is was time to think about options. My Father, being a WWII veteran and a member of the National Guard encouraged me to look into the Guard or Army Reserve. I suppose he want me to remain stateside and was afraid I’d be drafted and sent to Vietnam. Eventually I would join the Army Reserve and served 21 years, never having been deployed overseas.



© Joe 2014