A Merry Christmas To All (Back Home)

It's funny, but only a few holidays get to me since being away from my old hometown of Whitman, Massachusetts.  I mean, I enjoy New Year's eve, but it's not what I'd refer to as a nostalgic time.  Nor is my birthday, nor most of the other holidays.  No, Thanksgiving and Christmas are the ones that still get to me...

Is part of this because I'm getting older?  Sure, that has to have something to do with it.  And, is it because of some long ago memories I have from childhood?  Ya, I think so.  For, while something like birthdays were always made to be special for my siblings and me, it's still those two holidays that tend to get me feeling kinda homesick (or something like that).

Anyway, while I'm sure to get back to some memories a little later, let me share something else that warmed my heart over recent years.  What I'm getting at is a special night that now takes place late each December in downtown Whitman.  It's called Winterfest, a time for the locals to celebrate the winter holidays.

Now, I shot this video the very last time I was able to attend, and almost 2-years before I followed a different dream that took me to Florida.  Have a look, and I'll see you on the flip-side...

I'll bet that those who have been away for awhile still recognized some things, or some downtown stores.  Interestingly, a few spots have stayed the same for years, while there always seem to be some storefronts that change on a yearly basis.

Duval's remains an anchor in the same location where my little sis and my sister-in-law worked at the snackbar as teens (back in the 70's?)  And, while I might be wrong, I believe the fourth generation of Duvals now works at the store/pharmacy.  John's Hair Salon has been around in the center for quite awhile now -- I remember John opening the place as merely a kid, probably just out of hairdressing school.  Then, while most of the bank buildings are still there, the majority have changed names -- like 232 times.  Gone is Hovey's -- where I'd get "nickel Cokes", the five-and-ten, Freeman's Hardware, Jouberts Clothing, Whitman News, and Western Auto.

Is it just me who remembers a lot of the store clerks from those establishments being kinda mean looking?  Heck, I never thought to steal a thing in my life, yet some of the old folks who worked in those stores followed me (and everyone else) around like we were the reincarnation of Charles Manson.  The guy who ran Western Auto was like that. And how about the guy who watched over the place from up on a balcony at the five-and-ten -- with the two grumpy ladies down on the floor seeming like they didn't want to be there.  In reality, I'm probably way off base, and they were really nice people.  But that's how things looked through the eyes of a 10-year old, a 12-year old, whatever.

As for me, I'm missing all of it -- even the grumpies, but only for the holiday season.  Hey, take a look (down below) at what I'm seeing from where I currently sit.  It's about 80-degrees outside today, while I understand it's going to be a little cooler tomorrow, Christmas Day, at something closer to 70-ish.  So, no, we won't be having a "white Christmas" this year -- LOL.

Speaking of the surroundings...  I am thrilled that Brenda loves the wildlife here as much as I.  We watched a duck hatch just one egg after a seeming forever stretch, and we've seen that little duckling grow from not daring to leave its mom to being hardly discernible from the other adult ducks.  Crazy looking birds abound here, while I get jealous that the mockingbirds seem to constantly sing to Brenda.  We had a gator captured from the shown pond last spring, and more recently, while walking Raggs very late at night, I played a game of stare-down with a pretty big coyote, that was no more than a hundred feet from us.  He finally sprinted away, but...

If you want to stay active -- other than shoveling snow, this is the place to be.  For example, we now take walks after dinner every night, we take countless shorter walks with Raggs, and during the warmer months we're exercising daily in the pool.

Thankfully, most of the Chighisola Clan has moved to Florida, which makes it possible for us to now gather with family for festive occasions at one home or another.  As I recounted in my earlier post -- about Thanksgiving ("Memories of Back Home in Tiny Whitman"), we spent that big day at my sister Denise's house.  This time we get to all come together again -- from Brenda to my mom to my brother John's and Denise's families -- at Donna's house a little north of here. 


For me, the only tough parts are going to be the once in awhile flashbacks of some childhood memories.  And, it's going to be the fleeting thoughts of one or another Christmas past.  Once again, dad will be missing, for the 6th Christmas.  For a first time, though, my brother Lou won't be around to brighten things -- with his wry smiles and sense of humor.

Then, yet another funny thing, and something a lot of my older Whitman friends might appreciate...  Although we love our families, kids are what tend to make Christmas extra-special.  I experienced that when I was one of them, but it was just as much fun to witness the excitement and anticipation in my son and then later my grandson.  (Actually -- and God bless him for being this way, at 26-years old, my grandson still acts like a kid at Christmas.)

Come to think of it, life goes on, doesn't it.  I mean, it's easy to get caught up in daily "things", like about 24/7, and about 360-ish days per year.  It's those couple of special dates, however, that tend to bring on a melancholy feeling.

I don't know...  Have I struck a chord with any of you?  Or, must you get a little older -- or move further from home -- in order for different kinds of things to matter?  Let me know, huh?  I love hearing from old friends.  

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First, some of the ducks sit on their eggs just off to the right of the walkway on our way to the clubhouse.  There's the expectant mom sitting on an egg down below, and then the no-longer-a-baby duckling swimming behind.her/his mom.

      

That gator they pulled out of our pond was a big sucker, at what the wildlife people measured as 9' 6".

And below is a pic of exactly what that coyote looked like -- ugh.  It was about 1:30am and dark when we came face to face.  But I saw that rascal well enough under a street light to know it was a coyote -- looking just like this one -- staring back at me.

That Thanksgiving Day article on "Memories of Back Home in Tiny Whitman" was one of my most popular, so maybe you'd like to take a look.

Memories of Back Home in Tiny Whitman

For those who didn't know, I moved from my lifelong home of Whitman, Massachusetts 2+ years ago, to take what appeared to be an exciting hockey job down in Kissimmee, Florida.  Sounds good, huh?  I mean, constant sunshine, decent pay, and the chance to do even more of what I love?

Ya, the best made plans...

It's old news now, though...  I arrived in the Sunshine State pretty psyched, prepared to be the GM and Head Coach of a new team in a new Junior league.  Only a matter of days after getting on the job, however, things started looking kinda fishy -- with my team owner, with the league founder/commissioner, and with my dawgone shrunken paycheck.

Cutting to the chase, let me say that the league crashed within weeks of my investing a lot of money -- plus my heart and soul -- in the move.  Given the conditions, I could either limp back to Massachusetts or limp through Florida, with the choice between snowdrifts and palm trees not being all that difficult.

Mom and little sister

One more thing...  My mom and dad had snow-birded it for as many winters as I can recall, they finally settled in Tampa full-time, and dad was eventually buried in nearby Brandon.  The sister closest to my age had already moved with her family to the outskirts of Tampa, my baby sis moved to Tarpon Springs soon after, and then my youngest brother took a job as an entertainer with Disney World (and he now appears at Universal Studios).  So, while my arrival left only one brother left back home -- the one who actually enjoyed the New England cold, he sadly passed away at a relatively young age only weeks ago.  The sum total of Chighisola's left back home, then, amounts to just a grandson and granddaughter, my brother's family, and an ex.

Now, folks in other parts of the world might be surprised to know that Thanksgiving throughout Massachusetts and surrounding states is associated as much with high school football as it is turkey and the Pilgrims.  I mean football is a biggie there, with many townspeople weathering the late-November cold to catch their favorite school team.

My tiny hometown is the smallest area-wise in MA, probably barely more than 2-miles in any direction.  There were only about 5,000 residents there when I was a kid, I'm sure it was more like in the hundreds when my dad was growing up there, but all the greenery has been covered by a greedy real estate tycoon or two to balloon it to 15,000-ish today.

Dad's grave site in Brandon

My late-dad

Speaking of my dad...  My grandmother owned the real "toll house" in Whitman.  Oh, I'm not talking about the world famous eatery, and the place where the Toll House cookies were first created, but instead the house where tolls were collected sometime back in the 1700's.  I never saw Mrs Wakefield, inventor of those cookies, but I did each fall swipe some awesome and real juicy apples from the trees that graced her yard.

My grandmother having bought the house in Whitman sometime around 1920, made my dad a second generation Whimanite, I was third generation, my son was fourth, and my grandson and granddaughter were fifth.  Kinda neat, huh?  No matter, though, because I was the last to leave 2-years ago.  (Just thinking...  What a long way from "home" it is for almost an entire family to relocate -- and to probably all be buried.)

Anyway, there's also a lengthy history to the local Thanksgiving morning football rivalry.  For, as you'll see in the following video, the last game I went to was the 100th..

Isn't it also neat the number of famous people to come from such a small high school?  And, I'm sure there are others I don't know about and couldn't mention.  (If you can add to the list, please let me know in a comment below.)

My dad and mom built our house a few hundred yards down the street from where he grew-up.  And from there -- since I was 2-years old, they raised five pretty happy and healthy kids.  In fact, I'll often say that I experienced almost a fairy tale childhood -- having my Lassie-like collie follow me everywhere through the neighborhood farmlands, riding a real horse to play cowboys and Indians, wobbling my bike with friends to fish at a nearby pond or river, and I of course had some success through youth, high school and semi-pro sports.  All five of us kids were musical, too, with both sisters dancing and playing the piano, and all three of us boys learning to play guitar and sing.  I did some of that, but cared a tad more for sports, while my brothers both sang and played professionally.

Thankgiving at the Chighisola House was nearly as special as Christmas and Christmas Eve.  Ya, we were probably about 20-miles from Plymouth, the site of the original Thanksgiving ceremony, but my mom tried to top the Pilgrims each year.  As we kids all married and had our own families, the table grew in length to accommodate almost twenty in all.  Actually, mom and the girls might stay home to cook if one of us boys wasn't playing in a morning high school football game; while the guys might even pass up the local game for one that promised to be for a championship.  Brockton High School -- in the neighboring city of that name, and home to Rocky Marciano and Marvelous Marvin Hagler (among other famous folks) -- always seemed to be playing for something important.  (Rocky used to run through our little farm community during the 1950's, and I can remember our dog knowing he was coming from a good quarter-mile away.)

Fast-forward to 2014...  Brenda and mom attended a special Monday Thanksgiving at the clubhouse here within our complex (while I still had some writing to do for CoachChic.com).  On Thursday, the three of us will meet my remaining siblings and their families at the older of my two sisters' house not far from here. 

Will I miss things back home?  Hmmmmmm...  That's not an easy thing to explain.  As an example of the way I think, however...  I sense that my mom and dad knew that the old homestead would soon be torn down for a new development not long after they left for good.  We all had an honest to goodness cry the day they left, but I ultimately offered to mom, "The memories for us shouldn't be about a building, but instead about all the great things that took place there."  Ya, it was the people -- great parents, great brothers and sisters, and all the awesome relatives and friends who came to visit -- that made the true difference.

How will I feel about not getting back to another Whitman-Hanson versus Abington football game, and not getting to once again walk across the old field?  Oh, I'll maybe miss seeing some of my school chums and teammates, but I'll most likely think more about "... all the great things that took place there."

Happy Thanksgiving, all, from Brenda, little Raggs and me.

And thanks for letting me share some things that still mean an awful lot to me.