Going out and celebrating New Year’s Eve doesn’t need to cost a fortune, nor do you have to travel far to see fireworks, ice sculptures, fire eating, and all those other cool things a lot of people think only happen in big cities.

How does a family-friendly evening of free live music, street performances, and unique art activities and exhibits right in historic downtown New Bedford sound to you?

If you are looking for some ideas on how to ring in 2014, or if you just haven’t given it much thought yet, consider City Celebrates! New Year’s Eve 2013, organized and presented by AHA! and the City of New Bedford. The celebration, featuring a variety of free activities and events, runs from 4:30 until 8:00 pm, with fireworks over the harbor following at 8:30 pm.

The night kicks off at 4:30 pm with the Opening Ceremony at Custom House Park featuring Mayor Mitchell, city councilors, Miss New Bedford, Miss New Bedford Outstanding Teen, Showstoppers, and the UMass Steel Drum Band.

Following the ceremony is an All Faith Service for the New Year at Seamen’s Bethel at 15 Johnny Cake Hill from 5:00 to 6:00 pm.

Some exciting, must-do activities include Fire & Ice! Fire Eaters at 6:15 pm on the Whaling Museum Plaza and at 7:30 pm in Custom House Park, with live ice sculpting in Custom House Park starting at 4:30 pm.

Fire-eating and juggling street performers, The Suspenders, will put on a show on William Street from 5:30 to 7:30 pm, and there will be two stilt-walking shows at 6:00 pm and 7:00 pm at Custom House Park.

The UMASS Dartmouth Kekeli African Music Ensemble will perform on the State Pier (near the Ferry Terminal) from 7:45 to 8:30 pm.

Bring the little ones to see Toe Jam Puppet Band perform at the YMCA at 25 S. Water Street for three shows at 5:30, 6:30, and 7:30 pm, or head over and warm up inside the National Park Visitor Center located at 33 William Street while working on a variety of hands-on craft activities with the national park’s 1850s Ladies from 5:00 to 8:00 pm.

The kids will love Jedlie’s Magic Circus at the New Bedford Art Museum located at 608 Pleasant Street at 5:45 and 7:00 pm.

Also for kids and families, the New Bedford High School Drama Club presents Circus Shorts from 5:15 to 6:30 pm at the New Bedford Public Library located at 613 Pleasant Street, and the Ocean Explorium located at 174 Union Street will feature hands-on activities, Blue Earth Projection, and live exhibits from 4:00 until 7:00 pm.

Looking to experience some art? Then head straight for the We Art NB! galleries where you can look around and shop at Crowell’s Fine Art at 328 Acushnet Avenue, Gallery 65 on William at 65 William Street, the Paradise-McFee Gallery at 106 Williams Street, and TL6 the Gallery at 100 William Street.

From 5:30 until 8:00 pm, watch artists as they utilize all sorts of art mediums in a live competition for the best artwork award during the Plus Art! Battle at Artworks located at 384 Acushnet Avenue.        A number of venues, cafes, and bars will feature live music by local musicians of all kinds of musical genres. Café Arpeggio at 800 Purchase Street will host a folk coffee house from 5:00 to 8:00 pm, while Tia Maria’s located at 42 N. Water Street will feature Fado with Ana Vinagre at 5:30 and 6:30 pm.

There will be Celtic music with Eddie Dillon and Aoife Clancy at the Seamen’s Bethel from 6:30 – 8:00 pm, and Cape Verdean Kitchen Music at Celia’s Boutique from 4:30 to 6:30 pm.

Sponsored by the New Bedford Historical Society, Ponta de Sol will perform at Artworks from 6:00 until 8:00 pm.

Go see Showstoppers at the Penler Space (adjacent to the Zeiterion Theater) from 5:30 to 6:45 pm, or head over to 767 Exchange located at 767 Purchase Street from 6:00 to 8:00 pm to hear the O’ Tooles.

There will be Latin Guitar at Crowell’s Fine Art, time TBA, and if you are looking to dance in the new year, walk over to Wing’s Court for a dance party from 6:00 to 8:00 pm where DJ Anghelli will playing some loud tunes from ‘then and now’ to get you grooving.

If jazz is what you’re into, you will find plenty of it! Gallery 65 is hosting Paul Nagel and Bill Meile from 5:00 to 6:30 pm, and Jim Robataille, John Harrison, Dino Govoni, Dave Zinno, and Chris Poudrier will perform at the New Bedford Whaling Museum at 18 Johnny Cake Hill, 5:00 to 6:30 pm.

Gatlin’s Framing & Photography at 209 Union Street will present Al Nawoki & the UMass Jazz Quartet from 5:00 till 8:00 pm, while Scott Alan Correira & friends play jazz piano and musical revue at UMASS College of Performing & Visual Arts located at 715 Purchase Street, 5:00 and 6:00 pm.

Some venues will remain open after 9:00 pm with food, drink, and live music. Stop by Rose Alley Ale House at 94 Front Street where DJ Tom Cooney will be playing music from 9:00 pm – 1:00 am, with a complimentary champagne toast at midnight.

Cork at 90 Front Street will have live music with Chris Richards & Mike Lavoie from 8:30 pm till 12:30 am plus a five-course sharing menu and champagne toast starting at 4:00 pm (reservations required), and the Pour Farm Tavern at 780 Purchase Street will have a live band as yet to be determined.

So consider bundling-up, heading out on the town, and taking advantage of all the free activities that historical downtown New Bedford is offering this year to make New Year’s Eve a unique evening that you will actually remember in the morning!

By Jean Perry

He keeps it in his wallet in a coin holder with a small cellophane circle. It’s an Indian head penny, in great condition, dated 1897. “This is the first penny I ever earned. When I showed it to my father, he told me that he was born in 1897, so that made the penny even more special, so I kept it safe from that day on,” said Tom Shire, a Marion resident.

Growing up in Dorchester in the era of the horse and wagon, Shire followed his brothers and walked behind horses around the neighborhood, hoping for some droppings. He carried a ‘coal hoard’ and a two foot long coal shovel. He was five years old.

“I sold my first pail of horse manure to my elderly neighbor, Mrs. Parker. The penny was for bringing the manure and also for spreading it all around her flowers and vegetable garden,” said Shire.

“I lived during that transition period between horses and wagons and the automobile and truck era. There were plenty of peddlers with a horse and wagon including ragmen, fruit delivery men, and others selling or delivering all sorts of goods,” said Shire. When the shovel wasn’t being used to gather manure, it was used in the cellar to feed coal into the furnace. According to Shire, the end of the shovel could hold a half dozen pieces of coal which could easily be thrust into the furnace because the handle was about two feet long.

Shire has a history in show business and owned several theaters, including the Zeiterion, during his career. “Kirk Douglas’s autobiography is titled, The Ragman’s Son,” said Shire.

He collects vintage movie memorabilia and enjoys speaking to groups about his time in the business and movie trivia. Mr. Shire reopened the Zeiterion in 1975, then known as the State Theatre and focused on showing current and classic films. Mr. Shire also brought live acts to the stage, including a circus and a Mexican Folkloric Ballet Troupe and others.

A movie buff, Mr. Shire has an interesting collection including posters, autographed celebrity photographs, marquee signs, books, ticket stubs, stationary and many framed photographs of his favorite stars. Some of his favorites include Greta Garbo, Jimmy Durante, Lionel Barrymore, Charlie Chaplin, Gregory Peck and Tyrone Power, Ingrid Bergman and Myrna Loy.

Mr. Shire said that he fell in love with the grandeur of the old theater buildings while growing up. “Half the fun was being inside a beautifully designed theater with all the elaborate details on the walls and ceilings,” he said. Mr. Shire said that his mother didn’t see the attraction of going to the theater saying she couldn’t see, ‘paying good money to sit in a dark place next to a stranger.” Mr. Shire said his mother resisted when he got a job as an usher and had to work Sundays, but she finally conceded to her son’s love of the business.

Shire says his penny brings him happiness and is a reminder of the times when he was growing up. “My parents were immigrants and would often say, ‘here in America, we have everything, and it is our duty to help others and give back’.

Another memory Shire shared was running some errands for two Scottish sisters who lived on his street. “I knew they didn’t have much, so I was aware of that and they asked me if I wanted a cup of tea, a piece of candy or a nickel for my work. I looked at the table and could see that they couldn’t spare the nickel and that they certainly liked the candy, so I said I would be happy to stay for a cup of tea.” Shire said it was his first cup of tea ever and to this day he is an avid tea drinker. “My parents taught me to always be on the lookout for ways to help other people, and it’s become a lifelong habit,” said Shire.

Shire is active around Marion and recently served on the Marion School Committee and volunteers to help out in the cafeteria at Sippican Elementary School during lunch period. “I’ve shown my penny to several teachers and students and I tell the students to not waste food and to be thankful for all they have,” said Shire.

By Joan Hartnett-Barry

My Mother was and is a difficult woman in many ways. Her emotional unbalance, which today would be easily treated with medication and talk therapy, kept us on our toes. Speaking for myself, I felt responsible for her happiness even at an early age. Dr. Phil would have a field day with my tribe. Yet I know we are not that unique; we were just your average dysfunctional co-dependent family trying to avoid conflict. We never succeeded.

Ma and Dad didn’t belong together as a couple. They were married for nearly 70 years. Need I say more? He is gone now and in spite of her verbalized wish that he disappear, a mantra we listened to our entire lives, when she finally said goodbye to him, the cumulative regrets poured out. He was 92 when he passed away – their unhappy life together was over.

Because their marriage failed them, she turned to her children to fill the space that should have been her husband’s. Thus we became our Mother’s soul mates, pals, buddies, and whipping posts. One spends a long time figuring this all out.

There were good times, too. Honestly, there were. Ma loved to laugh, and we loved to see her happy. She grew up loving the motion picture films. That’s what she called them until the ‘70s. She’d watch all the old black and white movies that were broadcast on TV, teach us the names of the actors, and was one of the first film critics we would know. Her opinions were very strong. She hated Bette Davis, John Wayne, and James Cagney. She loved Sophia Loren, Cary Grant, and Rock Hudson. Gun Smoke, Wagon Train, Perry Mason, and many afternoon soap operas were the staples of her life. These were her social and cultural elements.

Ma loved to read, too. An insomniac her entire adult life, she’d read well into the early morning hours – authors like Frank Yerby, Pearl Buck, Taylor Caldwell and Agatha Christie. I know because we shared a bedroom together most of my childhood.

We lived off and on in Onset. She was actually born in a cottage near Sunset Island. At the age of six, I was the official errand girl. Several times a day I’d be sent to one of the markets that once dotted the main drag. Her neatly written list and money would be tied in a linen handkerchief. I’d give this to the shopkeeper who would then collect the items, bag them, place the change and list back in the handkerchief, and send me on my way. Once I got home, Ma would teach me how to count the change back – lost art today.

I loved cozying up to her at night, feeling her warmth, the smell of talcum powder, touching her lovely dark hair. After a long day of housework, cooking, and laundry, she relished a sit down with a cup of instant coffee and a cigarette. She was peaceful, and I was happy for that. For hours I wouldn’t move, wouldn’t disturb the calm façade.

We had a TV when others in the neighborhood did not, so when Elvis was featured on the Ed Sullivan Show, our living room was the place to be. What excitement! Females of all ages were panting over his image on the tiny screen. Afterwards, they seemed exhausted and glowing. I didn’t understand what they were all talking about, but it seemed so important and thrilling. I was a witness to the power of Elvis.

Early on she taught me the basics of good housekeeping – domestic tranquility ruled her home – and I picked up the importance of keeping a home clean and orderly. I learned to cook simple meals and iron clothing, even with starch. She took pride in a home free from dirt, and I followed her example by putting great emphasis on these tasks.

When Christmas trees were decorated, each ornament had its own special spot. Tinsel was made from aluminum and reused, so it had to be handled gently. She showed us how to place individual pieces at the end of every branch. It was so painstakingly slow, but it resulted in a resplendent finished product.

I have only a gauzy memory of Ma doing her own shopping. By the time I was ten, she stopped leaving her property line, eventually not even smelling a breath of fresh air unless someone left a door open a bit too long. Imprisoned by extreme anxiety and depression, her laughter became harder to induce, her anger so ready.

We drifted apart as I became a teenager. A pretty common thing between parents and children, but for us it became a grand canyon. We stood on opposite sides of a great breach. She felt my departure was treason. I felt it was an escape. She was a mother however, and when I really needed her, she was there in her small, but essential, way.

When my son was born, she taught me how to change diapers, keep him bathed and warm, and how to treat colds and sore throats. Her practical abilities seemed boundless. She knew a little bit about a lot of things. She needed to pass along these wisdoms. It was all she had to give, and they have stood the test of time.

Years later, when she was again able to leave the boundary lines of her tiny home, I took her on numerous day trips and two overnights out of state. These were a really big deal for her. I’d drive until I was exhausted, putting hundreds of miles on my cars to give her views she’d otherwise never see. We traversed miles of forests, coastlines, mountains and went on hundreds of shopping trips. I tried to make up for all she had missed. By then she was in her 70’s.

When I married and moved to Mattapoisett, I continued to spend as much time with her as my schedule would allow. She appreciated every moment without ever saying so. I knew she didn’t take my time for granted, but I also knew she expected it as well.

You never know when the last time for doing something is in fact the last time. So I don’t know the last time I took her out for lunch and shopping, but I do know we would have enjoyed it. We’d laugh, maybe cry, I’d listen to her laments about my Father, well-worn terrain I endured. She never tired of telling me the same anecdotes about her childhood. They were peppered with joy and pain. She had the freedom to roam from morning to night, but she also had the responsibility of caring for her ailing Father while her Mother worked. She recalled the gas explosion in Onset when her Mother spent the entire day searching for her youngest, fearing he had been killed and then the flooding relief when he was found unscathed. So often did she relive her own childhood, I can recite the stories as if they are mine. I’ve spent thousands of hours as my Mother’s companion and confidant.

She is 90 years old. For the past several years, she has been confined to the nursing home where unfamiliar hands attend to her every human need. She can do nothing for herself and is confined to a wheelchair or bed. She spends her days wandering the streets and back alleys of her mind. Strokes and old age, deafness and heart failure, make speaking very difficult for her. She tries, I listen, we manage. Sometimes we share only a few words as I spend the time rubbing her face and hands with lotion. Touching is so critical now.

This will be her last Christmas. There is no doubt in my mind about that reality. It makes it more difficult to be in her presence and so much more necessary. I promise myself I won’t miss her, not in a wanting to be with her way. But the void her departing will make, that space she has filled my entire life, the demands she made both spoken and implicit will be vast.

We haven’t a shared religious belief to comfort us. We won’t be meeting on the other side. For now, we hold hands and she takes me along with her, back to 1930 when she skipped along the streets of Onset free, youthful, and laughing. Sometimes I find it hard to keep up.

By Marilou Newell