Table of Contents
For my wonderful, wacky family and relatives,
especially Flossie; friends and old neighbors in
Meriden, Connecticut; and my longtime assistant,
Bob Hechtel, who has helped and put up
with me for years and whose idea it was
for me to do this book.
Chapter One
I didnt always live in the house at 26 Fairmount Avenue. We moved there when I was five years old. I know that because in 1938, when I was still four, a big hurricane hit Meriden, Connecticut, where we lived. We had just started to build our first and only house, when people told my mom and dad that the house was twisting and turning on its foundation, just like Dorothys house in The Wizard of Oz. A real hurricane had never reached all the way up to New England before, so nobody was ready for it.
We were living in an apartment on Columbus Avenue. We all lived on one floor. Another family lived upstairs, and we lived downstairs.
It had been raining for days and days, and some of the rivers were overflowing. There was a really weird brook near our backyard. It was called Harbor Brook. It wound all the way through Meriden, and factories dumped stuff in it. It was different colors on different days. We were told NOT TO GO NEAR IT. Right before the hurricane, the water was so high and murky that I was hardly allowed to look at it, much less go near it. Come away from there, Tomie, my mom would call.
Right after lunch on the day of the hurricane, my mom was talking on the telephone when my dad came home early from the barbershop, where he worked. My brother, Buddy, who was eight, was at school. (His real name was Joe Jr., after my father.) Dad and Mom talked in the kitchen. Then Mom said to me, Get your coat on, Tomie. We have to go pick up Buddy and some of the neighborhood children. Theres a big storm coming, and theyre letting everyone out early.
We got in the car and drove to the school in the rain. A long line of cars and teachers with kids were waiting in front of the building. I looked up and saw something Ive never ever forgotten.
A boy was standing at the top of the steps, holding an umbrella. All of a sudden a gust of wind blew, a really strong gust, and the boy went up, up, up in the air and floated down the stairs just like Mary Poppins.
It was scary driving home to Columbus Avenue, the car filled with kids Buddy, Carol Crane (my best friend on Columbus Avenue, who looked just like the child movie star Shirley Temple, only Carol had red hair and Shirley Temple was blonde), the Adams twins, the Fournier brothers, and a few othersall talking and screaming. Branches fell off the trees, leaves swirled around the car. A sign flew off Tomasettis grocery store and just missed us. But we made it to our apartment. Mom let us out, and we ran inside. Carols mother, Mrs. Crane, was already there, and she was really scared.
Mrs. Crane was scared of storms, especially thunderstorms. If there was one clap of thunder, Mrs. Crane would be knocking on our door and calling my mother. Floss, Floss! (That was my mothers nickname, for Florence. My mother liked being called Floss, but she liked Flossie even better!) My mom would open the door, and Mrs. Crane would rush in, pushing Carol in front of her. Nothing would 4 do except for my mom to get the bottle of Holy Water shed gotten from Saint Josephs Church and sprinkle some of it on Mrs. Crane, who wasnt even Catholic. I guess she thought that Catholic Holy Water was better than nothing, and it must have worked because Mrs. Crane never got struck by lightning.
On the day of the hurricane, my mom calmed Mrs. Crane down and promised shed get the Holy Water, while my dad parked the car where there were no trees. First Mom lit some candles because the electricity was out. Then she took the Holy Water and sprinkled some on Mrs. Crane. Everyone else wanted to be sprinkled, too.
Mr. and Mrs. Morin and their daughter, Althea, who lived in the apartment upstairs, came down. I guess they thought, with all the voices and everything, that it was a party.
We crowded around the windows and listened to the wind howl and watched it blow stuff all over the yardtree limbs, lawn furniture, garbage cans, even a birdbath. Then it got really quiet. We looked up and saw a little, round patch of blue sky through the dark clouds. Thats the eye of the hurricane, my dad told us. I didnt see any eye, but before I could say anything, the wind picked up and the rain started all over again.
I hope the new house is okay, my dad said as the wind roared by like a freight train.
My mom pulled a book off the shelf and started reading a story to Buddy, Carol, the Adams twins, the Fournier brothers, and yours truly, just as she read to Buddy and me every night.
Finally, three hours later, the Hurricane of 1938 was over. People started coming out of their houses. Do you have electricity? someone shouted. No, do you? someone answered.
I pestered my mom so much that she let me go outside with Carol, her father, Buddy, and my dad. Branches, large and small, and leaves were everywhere. We could hear sirens wailing. We walked to Hemlock Grove, a small forest of tall hemlock trees at the end of the block.
It was a mess. Be careful. I dont think its all that safe, one of the neighbors told us. Trees had fallen in all directions, criss-crossing each other like a giant game of pick-up-sticks. Some of those trees stayed there for a long time, and after we moved into 26 Fairmount Avenue and I felt brave, Id take the shortcut to Columbus Avenue through Hemlock Grove. One tree lay across a little stream, and if you had good balance you could walk across it.
