1n I953, I was twelve. I lived in a small rural village sixty miles from Boston. Geographically the village was large, population was small, six hundred people. There were no street or traffic signs. Village government consisted of the selectmen and a town clerk. There may have been other town officials but I didn’t know about them. There was a one room school house with six grades in it. Everyone walked to school. The school was heated by a wood stove.
In the summer people came from the big cities to their vacation homes. I guess they were professionals of one kind or another. My grandfather said one of the men owned a bank in Boston. Most of the young people that came were older than me, most were boys. They didn’t have any interest in hanging out with me.
But one of the families had a daughter, she was a year or two older than me. I met her in our village library. We were both shy and at first talking was hard. Over time we found ourselves in each others company a lot. Neither one of us had any obligations — I worked for the local farmer when he needed me. Anne always had to go home for dinner — six pm sharp every day. I went home for supper. Other than that we were free to do whatever we wanted.
We spent our days exploring, sometimes fishing, well me fishing and Anne watching. Long bicycle rides to explore the old cemetary or a new place to swim. We read a lot and talked about what we read. We went swimming most every day. The swimming hole was located on the property of one of the summer peoples land and the rule was no swimming until after noon. I guessed they were not early risers. People gathered at the pool from all over town, the group was noisy when gathered at the pool.
One day Anne said her parents wanted to have me to dinner. I had met her parents and they seemed nice but I wasn’t sure I would behave correctly. My family were simple country people, there was little formality at supper time. She schooled me, told me I had to wait until grace was said. I was nervous.
After a little conversation we sat down to eat. Dinner was served, they had a cook. There were courses.
My pre school education was provided by my Aunt M. Part of it was all about manners, being polite and table manners. No elbows on the table, no eating with my mouth open, no talking with my mouth full, no eating with my hands, no swearing, how to eat soup, what the different knives and forks were for. These rules did not apply in my house, but it sure did at Anne’s house. I’m proud to say I made it through dinner confident that I had shown excellent table manners. Conversation at dinner was new thing for me. We talked about what we had done, where we had been. The parents were interested in what we had to say. This whole experience was so different than what I was used to.
Anne’s parents invited me to go to Boston with the family, Anne’s father had something to do there and the rest of us could sight see. Anne’s mother wanted to go shopping. Anne and I wanted to see the Boston Public Library. It was the grandest thing I’d ever seen, Anne had seen big libraries before so she wasn’t as awed as I was. I was trying hard not be overwhelmed by it all.
Too soon the summer ended, Anne and her family went home. I felt abandoned. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was alone!
We wrote. Anne told me about her fellow students in her new all girl private school. She said this school was very different. The students were from many different states in the US and a few foreign countries. She practiced her French with a girl from Bordeaux. She did say she missed me. There were horses at the school and Anne was learning to ride. She said it might be something for us to do next simmer.
My letters were dull. Same old friends. No one from a foreign country or even another state. There was nothing at all remarkable for me to tell her. My friend Dave was killed in a car accident but Anne didn’t know Dave and it didn’t seem appropriate to tell her even though it was an important event for me. I told her I missed her too. I wanted to tell her I missed her terribly (intensively, immensely, etc) but thought better of it.
Short Stories