TERRY MOSHER
This is me in 1945 standing alongside Route 16. I’m on the edge of our lawn at the house where I spent my first 14 years in Portville, NY. This is an amazing photo for one reason – and not because I was good looking because I wasn’t – and that is because this was my first day of kindergarten.
There is a story behind this. It’s one of the few moments in my life that I remember. We all have those tiny speck of moments that for some reason we remember when you would think we wouldn’t, and this is one of those moments for me.
In this photo, I’m actually waiting for the school bus to make its stop in front of our house. The school was just a short mile up that road (the old school is now Portville Manor, a place for seniors or disability living) and my first school bus ride ended in front of the old Portville Central School on North Main in the little village of Portville.
I was accompanied on the bus this day by my sister Minerva, who was 16 and a senior at PSC. I’m sure she was with me because my mother wanted to make sure that her defiant youngster – I was the youngest of five, four boys and my sister, who was the oldest – was going to make it to kindergarten on his first day.
I remember getting off the bus and heading back toward our house that short mile away. My sister grabbed me and there ensued a tug of war. Kindergarten was held back then in the old Masonic Temple on Temple Street in Portville, and that was just a short walk in the other direction from our house.
My sister was tugging on me in that direction and I was crying and trying to escape and go the opposite way when suddenly Minerva said, “I’ll give you a penny if you go with me to Kindergarten.”
That stopped me. She pulled out a penny and gave it to me and I stopped struggling. I know, I know, a penny doesn’t sound like much, but back then a penny went a long way. You could buy penny candy, and that sounded like a sweet deal to me.
So I surrendered and grabbed my sister’s hand and we walked in peace to the Masonic Temple where she dropped me off and she went, I assume, to her senior classes at PSC.
But my rebellion was not over. The teacher and I think it was Mrs. Warner welcomed me to class and gave me some basis instruction on the does and don’ts and class started. One of the don’t s came along with a punishment of a dunce cap you had to wear if you did a don’t.
I can’t remember exactly what my don’t was, but I think it had to be with not doing what she wanted the whole class to do, and I wasn’t used to being told I had to do something because my normal response was to do what I wanted to do.
So I did a don’t and Mrs. Warner put the dunce cap on me and put me on the piano bench for a time out. She also warned that I was not to touch the piano.
You must know by now that Mrs. Warner just gave me an idea. If she would have said nothing about the piano I would not have done what I did and do another don’t.
Yes, I turned and started playing the piano.
My memory stops right there. But I do know that I quickly became cultured and by the time I was through with kindergarten I was on my way to become a leader of my class, both in the classroom and away from it.
But for one glorious day, I was the doer of don’ts.
I hope your don’ts are just as harmless as mine were. We live in the greatest country in the world and are entitled to have a few harmless don’ts to spice up our time here in this great place on this planet of ours because in other places on this Earth like South Sudan or Syria and other spots the don’ts carry a death sentence instead of a dunce cap and if there are pianos they have likely been blown up by now along with those who dared play them.
And tugs of war like what I had with my sister oh so many years ago – my sister died in 2011 at the age of 81 – are now real tugs of war along with the slaughter of innocent people.
So enjoy the greatest country in the world and go make your day and if you have a few harmless don’ts, just smile and keep on keepin’ on.
Be well pal.
Be careful out there.
Have a great day.
You are loved.