There are things that are so pressed into one’s memory they become part of your arms, your legs, the nose you smell with, the tongue you taste with, a touch of skin that is never forgotten. Those memories swirl in the cold of a cloistered winter morning that slides into late afternoon before you realize you haven’t changed out of what you had worn to bed the night before.

In between the first cup of coffee and preparing the evening meal on a day when you’ve dwelled in prior decades, talking to people who are no longer, walking in hot sunshine, solving life’s problems, the stories slip in and out. They begin eagerly, but before they can be captured, they dissipate like smoke rings, they simply lose their form. And some take on a life of their own …

I’m walking down Longwood Avenue to Vera Dingman’s house. I’m maybe 8 or 9 or 10 and eager to make money. Vera was my first employer. Her house was situated on the high side of the street. All the houses on that side of the street ran up from the sidewalk in steep steps, two levels of steps before you reach the front door. My short stubby little girl legs had to stretch high, my knees nearly hitting my chin in order for me to push my body up and up to Vera’s door. Vera was always waiting in her upholstered chair, a formerly tall elegant woman, now slightly stooped by advanced old age, long thin arms, legs and a voice gravelly from cigarette addiction. She wore old-fashioned high collared black dresses from another era, black sensible shoes, saggy hosiery with her white brittle hair piled upon her head. She was dignified in her manner, polite and peaceful in a way that only those who are at peace with themselves exude from their pores. She had a cat forever cradled in her lap. I see the sun coming through the window behind her on an early summer morning, making the lacy cobwebs hanging in grand swags around that window and extending over the ceiling above Vera’s head less fearsome and more decorative.

The shopping list would be ready. In her perfect old lady, once steady hand, she scratched out the necessities that would last her for a couple of days. Milk, bread, cat food, maybe a quarter pound of bacon cut fresh by the grocer and wrapped in brown butcher’s paper, two bananas, an apple, tomato soup and cigarettes. She hands me a few dollars from her cloth change purse that is tied to her belt by a piece of string. Her long slender fingers are curved, the uncut nails are talon-like and yellow, the skin stained from nicotine. She gently uses her hands like tools she must focus on to get the proper result. The process seems an eternity, but I am as patient with Vera as she is of her hands.

Finally, I hurry away to get the job done. Vera knows she can trust me to get it right, bring back the supplies, all the change from the purchases and without wasting time. I run up the hill, stop at the crosswalk, and then skip into the grocer’s. The walk back is always a struggle. The supplies are heavy for my small frame, but I’ve got a purpose and it must get done.

Back at her house after conquering up those tall stairs with a bag or two, Vera hasn’t moved but I notice several more cigarette butts in the standing ashtray by her chair. I set the bags on the tiny kitchen table in a room that is no longer really a place to prepare food, but more a receptacle for used plates, glasses and bits of moldy bread. Opened cat food cans reek where they have been left on the floor for the faithful feline, some empty while others partially full of dried out fish by-products. Everything goes in the kitchen but the cigarettes. The fresh pack is delivered into her waiting claw-like hands along with the list and the change. She smiles at my efficiency and calls me a good girl. Then the reward is passed from her cool papery hand to my wet fleshy palm: a half dollar. That princely sum she pays me three days a week – never two quarters, nickels, dimes, or pennies – always a half dollar coin. I say goodbye and sprint for the door.

The short return home transports me to the modern world circa 1960. As I run upstairs to my room, my Mother calls out “don’t slam the door” from her perch at the kitchen table. In my bedroom, I fish from under the mattress the tin box that is my vault and open it carefully so the contents don’t slip out. Half dollar coins make a racket when they hit the floor, and I don’t want my Mother to know how many I have. I count the coins, stacking them like poker chips. As Vera’s errand girl, I’ve amassed a fortune – nearly ten dollars.

My excitement at having earned so much money over the past few months gives me such a sense of accomplishment and power. I’ve got big plans that include using a Sears & Roebuck catalog in September. With the help of my Aunt Margaret, I’ll send an order to them and buy my Mother some Christmas gifts. My aunt will conspire with me, helping me fill out the order form and envelope, writing out the payee name on the postal money order, and then receiving the shipment to her address. It will work like a charm.

Selecting the items was a mixture of joy and pain. The electric mixer was what I really wanted to purchase, but I didn’t have enough coins to acquire it. I had to settle on a hammered pewter lemonade set and a porcelain jar for her instant coffee.

Looking back with the knowledge time imparts, I see Vera, Aunt Margaret and Ma in ways the child could never conceive. I see my benefactor as the frail elderly lady in the big house who could scarcely care for herself never mind a cat. She needed so much more assistance than a little girl could provide. Nor did I have the cognitive wherewithal to comprehend her need. But I’m glad I was there for her in my small way, and she made me rich beyond my dreams.

Aunt Margaret had a house full of children and very little in the way of financial resources. She put all that aside and helped me spend my fortune on my Mother, her younger sister, without ever making me feel it was a waste of my hard-earned cash.

And my Mother expressed such surprise at my enterprising nature and such delight at the gifts I selected for her, even though we never drank one drop of lemonade from that pitcher and tumbler set. She did use the instant coffee container, however. On wintry afternoons, I see her standing in her kitchen waiting for the water to boil and commenting on how ‘nice’ the little brown jar is sitting on her table – I’m warmed by the memory, the sight of her smile. (“Some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again.” My Ántonia by Willa Cather.)

By Marilou Newell

It was only a Saturday rehearsal, but already the stage was shining brightly, lit by the talent at Tabor Academy, as students continue to prepare for the opening night of Legally Blonde: The Musical, running from February 20through 22.

The talent is bright and new, literally, with 30 of the 41 actors taking to the stage for the very first time, pushing themselves to the limit as some of them discover, much to their surprise, the talent and determination they never knew they had.

“I was really surprised I got it,” said Megane Mongrain, speaking about landing the show’s leading role as the smart, sexy Elle Woods. Elle is the essential Valley Girl who has been dumped by her Harvard-bound boyfriend, Warner Huntington III, because he wants a more “serious” woman. To prove she is serious, Elle schemes to get herself into Harvard Law School, the main setting for the musical.

“I thought I was going to be Brooke,” said Mongrain. Brooke – a significant role in the musical, but not the lead – is the fitness guru who is later tried for murder and defended by Elle.

Mongrain said that when she opened the casting book and saw she had been given the role, she shut the book, opened it again, looked, and repeated the gesture.

“I never had a main role,” said Mongrain, “especially Elle who is in almost every scene.”

A challenging role? You bet. Mongrain said singing the part of Elle has actually changed her voice, but all for the better.

“I got this voice I didn’t know was in me,” she said.

Mongrain is not the only one to find her talent developing and unfolding as a result of performing in the production. Others have also confessed they weren’t sure they were up for the challenging musical, and some never even set foot on a stage before November when Director Mark Howland held the tryouts and rehearsals began.

Matthew Tracy had always been into sports like football and hockey and never considered himself to be the drama-type until recently when he decided he would try something new and see where it landed him.

“I thought I was going to be, like, a tree in the background,” said Tracy. Tracy had never sung on a stage before, let alone sing a solo, which he has to do as one of the leading male roles, Warner, Elle’s ex-boyfriend whom she chases to Harvard. Acting, said Tracy who describes himself as outgoing, came easily to him. But singing…

“I’ve never done that in my whole life,” said Tracy.

Marco Delvecchio can relate to that, having been primarily an athlete himself. Delvecchio has four roles in the musical, one of them more significant than the others, as Kyle, the UPS guy.

“Kyle is the sexy delivery man who is instantly attracted to the not-so-sexy Paulette,” said Delveccio. “He is not the type of guy you would expect to be like that.”

Delveccio fits the part, which calls for a lot of showing-off of his athletic “physique,” (think big biceps), and he had played some minor roles in a couple productions when he attended Bishop Hendricken High School in Rhode Island. Tabor proved to be a much different experience for him.

“It’s very professional here at Tabor,” said Delvecchio, admitting that the singing aspect of playing Kyle has been challenging, to say the least, although acting came easily to him.

“Everything’s so precise in a musical,” described Delvecchio. “You can’t miss a single key.”

Howland has been there throughout the whole process, though, directing the students and cultivating their talents.

Spencer Huang, cast as the role of Emmett Forrest, the second male leading role in the show, said Howland has been integral to his transformation over the past several months. What was the most challenging part of this performance for Huang?

“The dancing,” said Huang, adding that the singing has also tested him. “Emmett has a higher voice range and I’m a bass. So that’s been tough.”

Music Director David Horne has been coaching the students, giving voice lessons and assisting the students with the songs.

Behind the stage, a heck of a lot is going on too, and the student-driven crew is really bringing the production to life.

Stage Manager/Student Director Julia O’ Rourke sat in the middle aisle of the auditorium with her clipboard and pen, watching the actors rehearse while the lighting crew worked around them.

“This has been great,” said O’ Rourke, describing her role as “a musical secretary” of sorts. “And I think everyone is into it because [Legally Blonde] is more of a modern musical.”

Lighting designer Grace Fors said she is no performer, so she sticks to working behind the scenes.

“Performing is not my thing,” said Fors, happy to be on the sidelines. “There’s little recognition, but it’s very rewarding.”

Still about two weeks away from the premier, the cast of Legally Blonde already owns the stage; singing out their lines with a tenacity to get it done perfectly with their director on-hand as they ran through the entire musical, start to finish.

The performance is quite the spectacle, with a lot of very upbeat dancing, including tossing Elle into the air a few times, funny dialogue, and a lot of surprises to make you smile and applaud.

Do not miss this show! The performances will be held in the Fireman Auditorium at Hoyt Hall, February 20 – 22 at 7:30 pm. Tickets are $10 and may be purchased at the door.

By Jean Perry