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More than a half-century ago--and it seems a world away--my
older brother and I were boarding students at a school in
Connecticut. The year was 1944 and war raged throughout Europe
and in the Pacific. Merricourt was a small institution of about
fifty children, run by a couple known to us all as Uncle John
and Aunt Ruth. My brother was always getting into trouble and it
seems like I would get punished right along with him.
Infractions such as cursing, hitting another boy or wetting
one's bed would bring very predictable punishment, the most
common of which was being sent to bed without dinner.
There was a woman, a large woman, who cooked for all of us. Her
name was Mary. I recall that she would walk around the grounds
between classes at mid-morning and give us slices of warm toast
from the basket she carried. She would ring a bell that she also
carried.
Mary was the kind who would bake a cake for a boy's birthday but
before she put it in the oven, she would make sure it was filled
with pennies, nickels and dimes, so that many of us would enjoy
the one boy's special day. Not too sanitary by today's
standards, but we loved it and I don't recall anyone keeling
over from it.
The reason I tell this is because of what happened just before
we went home for the last time. The war in Europe had ended, it
was spring and summer recess was near. Nevertheless, late
afternoon found my brother and me punished once again, sent to
our beds without the evening meal--visions of breakfast, so far
away, dancing in our heads. When who should appear but Mary--on
tiptoe, finger to lips--motioning us to climb the stairs to the
top floor, where she opened a closet door. Inside was a little
table with two chairs, set with a tablecloth and all our
favorite foods! Will I ever forget that moment? Of course not.
The above
four paragraphs were selectively extracted by this web author
from Rev. Kolb's sermon. To fully appreciate their
experience, I encourage you to click on the link provided to his
complete sermon.
Rev. William A. Kolb
Episcopal priest, retired, living in Memphis, TN
*
A comment from a former Saint James student when asked if he
recognized the area where the photo was taken said, "It
looks like the grassy area that was some distance behind the
barn, where the pool was eventually built". If anyone else has
additional comments, please send.
We did have to do quite a bit of work as I recall, and as a
result I had to have surgery for a hernia immediately after
leaving Merricourt.
[4/24/06 e-mail]
From what you say it would seem that Rev. And Mrs. Kingsbury
were "uncle john and Aunt Ruth."
We were indeed lucky. They were Dickensian but not criminal!
We worked in some kind of fields I think. The only negatives I
recall were being sent to bed without supper - pretty popular as
a punishment in the culture then, and being made to stay in
one's wet bed ALL DAY if we had wet the bed in the night.
Of interest is the trip to the Barnum and Bailey Circus that
was called off for the children when one or more of us
misbehaved. A big disappointment, of course. However; it most
likely saved some of our lives. It was on that day in
1944 in New Haven
that the huge fire took hundreds of lives.
[4/25/06 e-mail]
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