My grandfather’s obituary cited him as “local grocer”. He was certainly that but he was so much more. He had a farm, a real working farm and I spent a lot of time there. I have some wonderful memories of it…
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“Do you remember the cow tunnel?” asked a Danvers classmate at our 55th high school reunion.
He eagerly shared his memory of running with friends through that tunnel long ago. I had no clue what he was talking about. A cow tunnel?
I’m starting this delightful journey from the place where I was born: Beverly Hospital, August 5, 1928.
It was the time of the great depression.
A group of us liked to go out to the park behind the high school to smoke during the lunch time. There were some old sheds there and that was where we would go, and the smoke would billow up. We always had to have a lookout, since Connie Dunn (Holten High Principal) would frequently come by and catch us in the act.