1937 Photo

Today this image came up on my computer screen. Wow! That's my grandparents' house in Danvers! I recognized it instantly, though I had never seen this photograph before.

For fourteen years (1943-1957) I lived right next door. The photographer in 1937 must have been standing about where our house (built in 1940) would later be constructed.

"Uncle Will" refers to the Rev. William S. Nichols, my father's father – "Grandaddy" to me. I wonder why there were so many cars in that yard that day. The location was 123 Preston Street (later called Nichols Street), in the Hathorne section of Danvers. Today the street is called Conifer Hill Drive, with an office park occupying the area where our houses had been.

This photo was in a photograph album that belonged to one of my cousins, Dudley Brewster. His nephew Dave Brewster (son of Dudley's older brother David) has been digitizing old photos from family albums and occasionally posting batches of scanned images for family members to review. Each batch is a surprise; we never know what might be included. Some photos are puzzles: images of people or places not now identifiable. But this photo stood out as VERY familiar.

By the time of my childhood a big dense hedge blocked some of this view, and shrubbery had grown to cover the foundation of that sunporch (providing great hiding places during games of Kick-the-Can or Hide-and-Seek). I'm surprised to learn that the two-car garage by the house was already there in 1937. I thought of it as the "new"garage; the old one (out-of-sight to the right) became the first location of my father's hearing-aid manufacturing business, Nichols & Clark, Inc.

We assume Dudley took this photograph. I remember Dudley well, and he frequently had a camera in his hand. His label reflects what the older generation (his mother Annie Nichols Brewster and others) would have said, because Will was their uncle. "Great Uncle Will" would have been more accurate from Dudley's perspective, but we all tended to use the language of our elders as we identified relatives.

Small Rain

A favorite childhood book was Small Rain, by Jesse Orton Jones and her sister Elizabeth Orton Jones (Viking Press, 1943).   I loved the image on the cover.

Look closely at that image.  The same drawing is reproduced inside, without the strong color:

What book are the children reading? What image is on its cover?

And, what about those tiny children on that smaller book?

And, the ones on the tiny-tiny book they are holding? I was fascinated, thinking about how far this series might go...



I savored the pictures in this book as my mother read the accompanying verses. Here's a page with special meaning for me:

  [Click image to enlarge]

Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands...

I loved looking at these children, with such joy on their faces as they played and sang together.  I especially liked the girl with the drum, and the one with the tambourine.

Sandy with tambourine, July 29, 2017

Who knew that I would later (decades later) become a drummer, and in my 70's play tambourine, too!  For instance, I just played with twelve other musicians at a "Free as You Want To Be" festival in Greenfield, MA; we definitely made a joyful noise.

Back to the book...
I want to share a few other images. Here's a very calm, quiet one from the front of the book:

Here's a closeup of one part of a page, with girls picking spring flowers.

Note the bunnies hidden along the bottom border. Throughout the book there are details like this to discover if you look carefully.

As a child I especially liked the way some pictures "escaped" beyond the picture frame. A good example is the schoolyard scene:

 Note the boys hanging on the picture frame!

Last month I mentioned this book in a blog entry (see previous post below).  It introduced me, at a very young age, to endearing images of children – white, Black, Asian – playing happily together. Our town of Danvers lacked such diversity in my childhood. This book provided a valuable view of a more inclusive world.

Waking Up White

Reflections on Growing Up White in Danvers

This spring my daughter urged me to read Debby Irving's 2014 book, Waking Up White and Finding Myself in the Story of Race. I borrowed a copy from a library, and have just finished reading it. I'm now inclined to purchase a copy or two to hand to white friends. This is an important book, well-written and well worth sharing.

Debby Irving reveals, humbly and gently, her personal story of awakening to realities that for years had alluded her. Puzzles and frustrations in her adult life, involving teaching in multicultural settings, are seen in new light as she learns more about the perspectives of others, and re-examines her own assumptions and habits.

For me, the book rang many bells. It was both a "page-turner" – as I eagerly read forward, following her engaging story – and a thought-provoking book, causing me to re-read sections, reflect on my similar experiences, and occasionally grab my journal to write pages of reactions and reflections.

Danvers, of course, came instantly to mind. Like Debby, I thought I grew up in a "normal" family in a "normal" town. It happened to be all-white, but that wasn't thought of or commented on in any way; it was just normal. The first section of Debby's book is titled "Childhood in White" – entirely recognizable by those of us who grew up in Danvers, Massachusetts, in the 1940's and 1950's.  She could have been writing my memoir. Debby's descriptions of her New England upbringing, family values, and habits ring true in many ways. Details differ (her parents were more affluent and well-connected), but in essence we were raised the same way.

Like Debby, I was innocent (ignorant) and inclined to believe that the world was a nice place, and that hard work would lead to happy outcomes. For our families, that was mostly true. We had no idea then about the unfair and discriminatory policies in America that had led to unequal treatment of different people, and that led to all-white enclaves like Danvers and Winchester, where Debby grew up.

I remember the total shock I felt when my mother wrote to me about a lawsuit filed by a young black couple who were attempting to buy a home in a new housing development in Danvers, somewhere near the high school I'd attended. Discrimination against a black family? In Danvers? Could that really be happening? News of that case shattered my long-held belief that Danvers just happened to be white. The couple won their case, but chose not to settle in Danvers. My mother was keenly disappointed, but understood why they might wish to avoid Danvers after the controversy.

I was raised to believe that ALL people were equal. Not much was said about race, but illustrations in a favorite children's book influenced me greatly. I loved looking at the different faces. I saw multiculturalism in action, long before knew that word or idea. My parents were accepting of people from different ethnicities and cultures. They hosted international students.

One day my mother was proactive in resolving a potentially awkward situation that she suspected involved racial discrimination against an African guest. She wanted the guest to accompany my sister to school and observe a full day in an American high school. Permission for the school visit was granted, but the principal insisted that my mother drive the guest to and from the school. Why couldn't he simply ride the bus with Jean?  Not possible, according to the principal.  My mother resisted the unnecessary extra driving, which would cut into her working hours. The principal, when pushed, stated that HE would drive the visitor home, if necessary. My mother did the morning drive, but called in the afternoon to say that she'd be unable to leave work in time. The principal, now needing to interrupt his own busy schedule, decided that perhaps the bus ride made sense, after all. My sister and our guest traveled home together on the school bus. My mother was delighted by that outcome, which is exactly what she had hoped, and guessed, would happen.

Last night, after I read the final chapter of Waking Up White, I lingered over the notes at the end, and the Acknowledgements, impressed by the large teams of people Debby thanked for assisting her in the work that led to this small, self-published book.  For more information, see http://www.debbyirving.com/the-book/

And now, like my daughter, I am urging others to read it.  It is very readable!

Each chapter is short (often only 3-4 pages) and to the point, revealing one new step or puzzle along her journey.  I was intrigued by the way she figured things out and began to apply new understandings in her life, in some cases repairing old hurts and improving relationship with others.

There is optimism in this book – hope that by listening to others, and being open to learn from others, we can improve communication and relationships in our workplaces and communities. But first, those of us who are "white" need to acknowledge aspects of our "white culture" that get in the way.