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POST-GAZETtE, JULY 28, 2017 PAGE 13 Babb onno by John Chxistoforo A Nostalgic Remembrance Dad juggled two careers. By day, he was with the Boston School Department. By night, he was a very busy musician. During the summer break from the school department, he played with bands that worked the county fairs east of the Mississippi. When possible, we would head to his favorite get- away state, Maine, and spend time with the family of Mike Barca. Mike, like my father, was one of the pioneers in the Depart- ment of Audio/Visual Educa- tion for the Boston schools. Dad had joined the faculty at East Boston High School (his alma mater) in 1942. Knowing he was going to be drafted, he thought he would return home, get a day job, wait for the draft notice to arrive, and then join the Marines. As a student at Eastie., he had majored in vocational education, study- ing machine shop. When he returned and got a teaching job, it was at his alma mater teaching machine shop and shop math. The school schedule allowed him to join a five-piece lounge group and play music six nights a week. He was happy to do two out of the three things he loved. The third was football. So he became the assistant coach for EBHS's football team, juggling teaching, coaching, and playing music all at the same time. When he went into adminis- tration and became part of the Department of Audio/Visual Education, he and Mike Barca hit it off right away. Like Dad, Mike was the son of Italian immigrants, and they had a lot in common. Mike had married a woman from Maine, but his work was in Boston and they had an apartment in Jamaica Plain. To satisfy his wife, Mike bought a cottage in Maine, situated on Lake Maranaeook in a town called Winthrop. On several occasions in the '40s, we were invited to spend a few days at the cottage. When Mike's in-laws and kids were on hand, Mom would drag Nanna and Babbononno with us, and there would be three genera- tions of us all ready to hang out and enjoy one another's company. Beginning around 1953 or 1954, Dad wanted to slow the pace down. When school let out in June, he would go on the road and play the county fairs that I've mentioned sev- ern times in my columns. Morn and I would join him, but come the middle of August, we were ready for a stay at the lake in Maine. The first year of that change in pace, Dad rented a cottage right near where his pal, Mike, and his family had their place. It was a four-room cottage with an indoor bathroom {many still had outhouses back then). It also included a beach to the right of the place and a dock running out straight from the back of the house. Inside, there was a Franklin stove in the living room for warmth, even in August (at night). The water was pumped in from the lake and was not drinkable. Just a few feet from the side door was a well that supplied us with drinking wa- ter. Everybody loved the cot- tage, especially Babbononno. His commentary told us what life was like in Foggia in the late 1800s: "We lived in a house like this, only we had the outhouse in the back, no running water at all and no electricity." After that first summer of Maine in August, Dad bought the place from the owner. His name was Frost and the place was called "Frosty's Point." The price was agreed upon only ff Dad was to keep that name on the sign located roadside that also gave the complete address. From that point on, it was our cottage during the month of August. Mike Barca had introduced Mom and Dad to most of the neighbors, locals, and sum- mer residents. They seemed to fit in. Most had teen sons and daughters, and they kept me occupied much of the time. As I mentioned earlier, when Mike's in-laws were there, Mom made sure Nanna and Babbononno were with us. One of the locals, Arthur Gordon, had his father living with the family and he and Babbononno really hit it off. Old Vic, as the man was called, had a thick "down Maine" accent and, as you al- ready know, Babbononno spoke fractured English. But, after a few shots of Vic's home-made applejack washed down by Bab- bononno's home-made wine, the language barriers disap- peared and it was as if they had been paesani for years! By the late '50s, the old folks began dying off. Nanna was first, passing in December of 1958. By a year or so later, the only one left from that genera- tion was Babbononno. He still accompanied us for our month in Maine, but he was lonely with no one to hang out with. I experienced the same thing. As the late '50s approached, most of my generation was finishing high school and were heading off to college. Those that opted for work headed down toward Portland, as there wasn't much in the way of industry where Winthrop was located. That meant that I sore would be alone during tie month of August. By the tine I graduated college in June o 1960, I was a working musifian, having turned professimal in 1958. Summer work paid rather well. I was with the Ken Reeves Orchestras and was often on the road on weekends in August. This allowed me two things: I cut my teeth as a journeyman musician with some older mu- sicians who were at the top of their game, and i was able to put money away and pay my own way througt college and afford a car to bott. Dad made sone contacts and booked a cotple of Maine county fairs during August. His home base was the cot- tage, and Morn ~vould accom- pany him just like she and I did when he was on the road a decade earlier. He would bring the sidemen up from Boston, and after the fairs were over, they and their families would stay at Frosty's Point, guests of Morn and Dad. It reached a point that, between working at the Seville Theater and playing music several nights a week, I could only afford to spend maybe a couple of week days in Maine. But with my generation gone, it was lonely. When my folks hit their mid-fifties, Dad no longer want- ed the responsibility of a sum- mer cottage, and he sold the place with no regrets. As Mom explained it, "We had our fun there when we were younger, and now it's time another fam- ily gets to enjoy life at the lake." I didn't return to Winthrop, Maine, until the summer of 1981, with Loretta in tow and baby John in a basket car- der. Mom and Dad were visit- ing Mike and his wife and we stopped by to say hello. They insisted we stay the night, so we listened to the old folks reminisce about those by-gone days as we ate dinner. On the way home the next day, Loretta asked me why I was so quiet. All I could think of saying was, "It's over." GOD BLESS AMERICA Happy Anniversary RICCARDO'S RISTORANTE RNE ITALIAN CUISINE Richard Travaflione, Jr. Executive Chef 175 NORTH STREET BOSTON'S NORTH END (617) 720-3994 www.riccardosnorthend.com News Briefs (Continued from and appears to enjoy getting into trouble. O.J. Gets Paroled. Who CaresP Simpson still gets wall-to-wall coverage. I don't care if he was paroled or not. I simply try not to think about him at all. Most Americans think he got away with murder and it was only a little justice he ended up in prison for armed robbery and kidnapping. Hey, at least he did some time. His name is mud today and will follow him to his grave. The less I think of him the better. In the end, God will be his final judge where there aren't any fancy lawyers playing around with an old glove. Can't Fix Stupid Department That 20-minute meeting be- tween Donald Trump Jr. and some Russians before Election Day last year is still growing as the media coverage doesn't let up. It hasn't helped that Trump Jr. dragged his brother-in-law, Jared Kushner, along for the ride. It started out with four people and now has grown to eight in that meeting. Pretty soon the clown car will be filled to capacity. Oh, and if person number nine at that meeting shows up, they can start a soft- ball team. Democrats are in More Trouble than the CrOP The Democratic leadership still hasn't learned anything from Clinton's loss to Trump. Today, instead of being a party of ideas and solutions, it has become the party of resis- tance and obstruction. This is a far cry from the days of Jack Kennedy, Lyndon Johnson, Hubert Humphrey, and Bobby Kennedy, where ideals topped stupid sound bites about nothing. Reebok's Got a Nerve Reebok-- that U.S. Company that makes all of its expensive Page 1) sneakers in Vietnam -- has chimed in on an anti-Trump tweet that blasts President Trump for his recent allegedly sexist remarks toward the First Lady of France. All Trump did was remark how good-looking she was for an older woman and he did it in, of all places, France, which is known for its beautiful women. Is it sexist to say anything complimentary or should we all just pretend there is nothing to see? Recently, a younger woman said I looked great for my age. Should I have called the cops on her? What is wrong with America today? We are far too serious. And what is wrong with those crazed feminists who like keep- ing women in a victim state of mind? You won't see me wearing anything with the Reebok name on it. What is Wrong with Trump This side meeting between Trump and Putin at the G-20 Summit meeting may soon replace the Trump Jr. story. Seems the two presidents met after a large dinner for what the NY Times says was a "secret" meeting. The president's men say it was a much shorter meet- ing. Whatever! However, what was important was that Presi- dent Putin had his interpreter at his side and Trump had only himself. Trump doesn't speak Russian, so how does he know what Putin was actually telling him? Can you trust a Russian interpreter to translate what was actually said? And isn't this a security risk for the president? Also, why in the world, with the Russia investigation going on, would Trump not want a witness in the room with him? Trump keeps playing into the hands of and all the Fake News peddlers out there seeking the ruin of all things Trump. Best Wishes ANTHONY V. BOVA, D.D.S. Office Hours By Appointment 79A Prince Street, Boston, MA 02113 Telephone (617) 523-4446 Fax: (617) 523-3275 Best Wishes on Your 122 Anniversary Since 1969 FOR ALL YOUR INSURANCE NEEDS RICHARD SETTIPANE Public Insurance Adjuster Experience makes the difference! 209 BROADWAY, REVERE, MA 02151 Tel. 781.284.1100 Fax 781.284.2200 Boston 617.523.3456 Free Parking Adjacent to Building -877- HEEP (i 8T/-38Z 4 57) or iogon to gOV, ::