Waban, Massachusetts, 1960
We sailed for India in 1957 and returned to the States seven years later, HOWEVER right in the middle, in 1960, we flew back for 6 months…right smack at the height of political drama while Nixon and Kennedy were going head to head. In addition to profound personal upheaval for the younger members of our family, as in culture SHOCK, there was visceral tension in the air.
HOWEVER, my Dad had his impish ways to distract us from the tension with laughter and naughtiness…and somehow we were never found out! (Or stopped by the police).
As my mother’s passionate insistence that my sister and I continue our piano lessons…(excuse me? New teacher, new everything, CONTINUE?), it was my father’s job, on Saturday mornings to drive us to the PLACE.
Our black Plymouth station wagon, complete with fins, or wings, or something magical and batman-ish (though this was before we knew about HIM) on the rear end of the car….was our vehicle. As our habit for jeep riding in India had included riding on the hood or dangling off the back, my sister and I naturally felt at home riding on the fins…or wings…through Waban and other Newtons to the PLACE.
My father…(Oh Dad, YOU YOU YOU)…supported our rebellious inclinations when my mother wasn’t looking, and every Saturday for those six months, we rode on the back while he sang loudly, gloriously, every single verse of “Oh What A Beautiful Morning”.
Our piano lessons were a piece of cake, and being the States was manageable.