Does anyone appreciate the place where she grows up? Perhaps, but I think hometowns are much like cafeteria lunches (which were the best part of going to St. Leo’s School, by the way): no matter how good, they get old.
Looking back, Leominster was a pretty decent place to grow up. In the 1950s and 1960s of my youth, kids had the run of the town. When I was six years old, I was allowed to walk downtown with my best friend Debbie and partake of the joys of the pet department at W.T. Grant and the soda fountain at Newberry’s. We could also walk to Doyle Field, a large public park with a killer slide and other great playground equipment, to Crossman’s Market, which had an unrivaled selection of penny candy, or to Jim’s Drugstore, which served amazing root beer in frosted mugs. The Rec Center downtown had a huge indoor pool, trampolines, and more. There were lots of woods around to explore, too. We had a level of freedom that would be unthinkable today.
Yet all of us complained, and when we did, my mother always said, “Study hard and you can leave this place.” And we did. Five of the six of us left Leominster; only my younger brother remains. Now that my parents are gone, I rarely get there.
Two of my sisters were thoughtful enough to settle in Sarasota, Florida. I am writing this at the end of a five-day visit to them, and it has been grand. Sarasota is beautiful. I’ve gone for early-morning swims on Siesta Key with my brother-in-law, visited my beautiful niece and her family in their fabulous new home, and talked endlessly with my sisters—mostly about Leominster.
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