My Best Friend
(Susan Barber Drummond)
My first people
friend that I recollect at a pre-school age was Rosemary
Poole. She was my woods and peanut buddy. Rosemary was
the youngest of 6 children, and her closest sibling
was Soby, her brother who always played football with
his buddies and occasionally used Rosemary in the game.
I was rarely asked to participate because I was just
tiny and little and petite. If I was not at Rosemary's
house or between, then Rosemary was at my house, or
between in the woods or road. At the Poole's there was
an entire room devoted to bookshelves full of books
at the top of their stairway, which was always fun.
Rosemary received a lot of Madelyn books of the little
Parisian orphan. I just happen to remember that one
particular series. We too did a lot of exploration throughout
the woods between our houses often stopping at my Aunt
Eva and Uncle Charlies' house on North Road. There were
a lot of peanut butter and jelly and occasionally marshmallow
fluff sandwiches. Sometimes we camped outside. Sometimes
we camped inside. Mother and Father always left the
light on inside our always unlocked door. Mother was
one to invite little friends over when they came down
with Chicken Pox and such, just to pass it on to us
and just get it over and done with. If Rosemary was
not feeling well, it was always the blue bottle of Milk
of Magnesium that she was given. I envied her a little
even though she said it tasted perfectly awful. Once
in a while, Rosemary would switch out her bedroom light,
but she usually had the bedroom next to her parents
that faced the South Road. I always remember the noise
and vehicle lights keeping me awake half the night because
where I lived a mile down North Road, there was never
much traffic and our house was up on the hill away from
the road. Rosemary's felt like it was right on the street.
And, Rosemary always pulled her window shades down although
the lights and noise still kept me awake. We had shades
at my house but we never needed nor used them. Mrs.
Poole faithfully played organ at the Congregational
Church. She just a faithfully gave Mother a ride to
the grocery store each or every other week, because
Mother did not drive. The last person that tried to
teach mother was Uncle Frank (Stone from Goshen), and
he quit after mother took him and the car over a stone
wall in reverse. I do remember the Poole's two Ford
"woodies" vehicles. I remember the flood and
hurricane in '55 where we all climbed in and drove towards
Torrington down the main road. We had to stop because
the water had climbed up and risen on the Torrington
hill road. I remember the rain gushing down our back
road up to the dump way in back that was on the right
or south side of our house. Sonny (Hank), and I played
in that water and mudpool for hours. It seemed that
a few young friends joined us, although our household
was full-up with just my family. And, then Rosemary
was often there. Rosemary was my protector when Sonny
was not around. Rosemary's house had an enormous attic
and her play doll house was my favorite. At my house
we always played dress-up, and mother always seemed
to have plenty for us to use which even included strapless
bras that we would stuff with tissue, toilet paper,
and anything else we could find. At my house we would
play in the basement when the weather was inclement.
Down in the cellar we had an ancient stove and oven,
and we made up pies, cookies, cakes and all sorts of
things with mother's tide with which we added water.
Great play stuff, and mother just used our cakes and
cookies and pies in her washing machine. Father always
wanted to buy mother a dryer but mother preferred the
clothesline outside accessed on our kitchen porch. When
I became old enough to stand on the porch railing and
hang clothes, I did. However, when I became even bigger,
and I never get much much bigger, I did not enjoy hanging
out clothes in the winter. My hands froze entirely too
quickly. Yet, it was fun bringing in the frost starched
clothes all stiff and cardboard-like. Mother also liked
hanging diapers, there always seemed to be a need for
then, on the top of a couple of doorways to give the
house a little needed moisture in the winter months.
In the good weather and summer, mother was always famous
for coming upstairs and going directly to the windows
and opening them. It took me years to finally become
accustomed to open windows at night without starting
and catching a cold, but now I find myself doing the
same thing when I get up with beautiful weather outside.
Good to air thy house. Back to Rosemary. We met at the
school bus stop on the corner by the church and Rosemary's
house. Sometimes, when Rosemary's mother would practice
at the church, Rosemary and I would somehow get up above
where the choir sang, and look out the windows that
had no glass. We were always going to church on Sunday's
and activities during the week which were potlucks which
we especially loved. The potlucks were the only times
I ever waitressed with such loving and unconditional
townspeople. Of course, Aunt Eva taught preschool and
kindergarten age Sunday school, and Aunt Eva was just
always a treat. She taught me three things which were:
God is love, and cleanliness is next to Godliness, and
that beauty was on the inside. For some reason, probably
beautiful siblings, I was concerned with the latter.
How strange when I think about it now. I suppose I always
felt compared to one or another sibling, and there just
was something lacking in me. It was strange that 50
years later my older sister, Gloria, mentioned in my
presence once that I was so beautiful as a child; it
never ever occurred to me. Of course, there was Rosemary,
Posie -- we all called her -- with her rosie complexion
and cheeks, and the epitome of health. As a child I
did get Chicken Pox and the Measles, but somehow I managed
to be the only one in the family that came down with
Whooping Cough; thought I would cough and vomit my literal
guts up with that, but I made it through. In mother's
house one would never think of anything else. She was
a terrific nurse to all of us. Between that and her
will, mother willed us to get better. And, she always
wanted one of us Barber girls to become a nurse. I passed
out and had bloody noses, Gloria passed out at the sight
of blood, and Thea was a ballerina and star and never
would cross that line. I grew thinking I was a princess;
had to be one each and every Halloween. It was not until
Pamela Skane that I became a Hobo with Uncle Charlie's
shirt, pants and shoes that I never went back to being
princess. And, when I was not a princess, outdoors I
was no less than Annie Oakley herself, and the best
shooter in town. Years later I actually began to shoot
and was good. For whatever reason I felt there was an
unusual reason why I was such a good shot. At the Harwinton
Fair, the shooting gallery owner-man always went out
back to bring me my special rifle to use. I guess he
saw me coming, but I loved the moving target and later
learned to skeet shoot at my neighbor and other Dad's
Bill Lake. I did shoot his or Father's 12-gauge; they
had someone beside me to catch the gun and someone in
back of me to catch all 116 pounds of me. I required
neither, but I could feel the muscles ache by the next
day. Getting back to Rosemary, we always earned money
doing errands and jobs along with always scouring the
roadside for bottles to bring back to the grocery store
for refund money which we all promptly spent on candy.
Almost always. And, then their was 4-H, both sewing
and cooking, and the Grange for which I would often
play thy accordion at. For a very shy youngster, I managed
to still do some things. Of course, Gloria paved the
way before me, and there was Hank who was always inspiring,
and of course Rosemary who I was always with. I do remember
that we took Ballroom Dance lessons with fellow 7th
or 8th graders. The night before the big dance, Mrs.
Poole worked it out with my mother so that we both received
our first panties with garters on them to hold up our
new and first time stockings. They were pink. At the
dance as in all our practice lessons, I was always scratching
and clawing at my partner just because they were boys
and I was tough. So I thought, on the inside, even though
I was still small on the outside. I was just awful at
one point. And, probably at several points. Of course,
when I was in second grade, David McKenzie moved into
town, and he somehow quickly became my beau, for years
and years. He even planned that we go to the same college
and get married after college graduation. He did move
away, and we did visit each other both ways, and we
parted in about 9th grade. Years later, my sisters were
clearing out memorabilia from mother's attic, and I
discovered that they threw out D. McKenzie love letters
from Ridgefield, Connecticut, much to my chagrin. I
have had a difficult time forgiving them for that deed,
especially when I felt they could have called me first.
That and my Christmas doll from Santa Claus alias mother.
Now I know the latter was never thrown away; my niece
has been collecting and investing and layawaying dolls
for years. Hummm. Oh, Rosemary. There were a few summers
when the Poole's took me to Cape Cod along with Mrs.
Poole's dear mother. We were always running the waves
at the beach and digging for shells and willy-nilly's
on the beach. One time we were both in the water, not
very deep, and within 2 seconds of each other we began
to scream and run out of the saltwater as fast as we
could. We were touched, heaven forbid, by little squids,
and were scared. A passerby said for us to look up and
down the beach at all the beached squids. They looked
dead but we decided to start picking them up and throwing
them back into the saltwater to save some aquatic lives.
We also dug up quahogs which seemed gigantic to me.
I grew up a real landlubber, and a trip to the beach
was so foreign to me. Growing up we would take an entourage
of vehicles and relatives to Missquamicut Beach in Rhode
Island. To me it was like a pilgrimage. We packed lunches
and snacks and all sorts of plastic tubes. We had so
much fun in the waves and it was particularly fun when
the adults would be out there with us because we would
go further out, and they would keep us afloat. I always
sunburned on top of another sunburned as did my father.
I am sure I was just as red as my Dad, but I marveled
at how he came away from the beach looking like a cooked
and very red lobster. I would not feel the heat of the
sunburn until we arrived home, tired of course. Mother
always fixed me up with vinegar swaths; it was the only
thing that helped me. Father and probably the rest of
our family needed the vinegar fix also -- we were all
just white, pale, blonde and blue-eyed. Not much chance
for tanning, which Rosemary did beautifully. Rosemary
did not always come on our Rhode Island vehicle-train
shuttles but came as often as we could get her to; same
for me and their Cape Cod. However, we did return home
each evening, with someone -- never me -- forgetting
and leaving a pair or one sneaker on the back bumper
or top of the car. We would always see the last one
fall into the road; somehow, never the first. Only a
couple of times did we turn and go back to retrieve.
Just not very often. We kids would try for the station
wagon back where we would lay down and put our feet
up on the back window. On the way to Rhode Island, I
would try to as far forward as I could because I was
prone, or rather destined, to car-sickness. But, the
day was worth it. I am not sure which was worse -- the
car-sickness or the sunburn, but I was not about to
stay behind. And, I still am the only one in the family
that get sick from occasional cars and always airplanes
and almost always boats. Of course, there were always
the Rosemary excursions or sibling excursions down the
Lead Mine Brook, and family and sibling excursions to
Red Hole. We worked and saved all year for the Harwinton
Fair; for me it was the shooting gallery with moving
targets rather than prizes and the round fried pizzas
with sauce and Parmesian cheese. I was busy with 4-H,
mother tried me but I failed at ballet -- that was Gloria
and Thea (I just could not get my body to do what everyone
else's could and would do) and accordion lessons from
Blanche Plaskett whom I dearly loved. I still remember
her beautifully curled hair, her sparkly eyes behind
her thick spectacles and the pencil that she constantly
kept between her teeth (I always required a little extra
help, and I could never figure out fingering on the
sheet music to my fingers). Grandfather gave Blanche
an accordion because she could play anything on a piano
so that we Barber's could get our accordion lesson in
which was difficult because mother did not drive. I
used to bring my accordion to school and ride the bus
home and get off with Roger with my accordion. Then,
after work, Father would always pick me up. He did make
me carry my accordion back down the stairs; he said
he was paying for the lessons and I get to practice
and carry. Meanwhile, Rosemary played and practiced
the piano, and taught me chop-sticks and such. Mrs.
Poole played beautifully, and I loved to hear her practice
which she did faithfully each day. I often felt guilty
about Mrs. Poole versus Mrs. Cheney. When Mrs. C played,
I would stop in my tracks because she was so awesome.
Meanwhile, I was all but loyal to Mrs. Poole, and never
made mention of the fact. Years and years later, my
sister Gloria, who was friends with Lydia Cheney, told
me that Mrs. C was an accomplished player. Of course,
then there was Mrs. Peckham whose husband told me that
she played the concert series all over the world and
be built her stone castle with balcony replete so that
she would come to Harwinton as his bride. Well, Mrs.
Peckham gave Sonny and I our first voice lessons. Sonny
came along with me towards the end; it was not his forte,
but I wonder if mother just had him come so that I would.
I recall at about 4 and 5 that I used to sing along
with the radio the different operas that I just somehow
knew and loved. No one could understand how I could
sing in another language, but I had this pure voice
and many years later was told that I have perfect pitch.
So, it seems the combination worked for me, and Mrs.
Peckham was my great lady of the balcony. And, I loved
Mr. Peckham as well. He would rake and save all the
fall leaves and feed them to his horses. Rosemary and
I were always at his barn. He had really progressive
ideas about nutrition and mother earth. He was probably
the first person that I ever hears speaking about taking
care of our earth, and the people on it. Rosemary and
I were always doing some type of art at both of our
houses. I never did get into toll painting, but I treasured
the trays that Mrs. Poole shared with misquamicut, RI
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