My earliest recollections clear
Are of this place now etched in time
Two families intertwined in space
In harmony and penchant rhyme

With every season fleeting by
With every day from dawn till dark
We lived our lives oblivious to
The heady times so drear and stark

The Parsons family lived next door
Fast friends from up the outport coast
And we were from the city bred
And just a little fond to boast

The house it was a side by side
The builder Selby Vokey's pride
And I can still in mind's eye see
The place as clear as if beside

The cellar small with storage shelves
Filled to the brim with articles fine
And two wood bins to hold the coal
For heat through winter’s frigid time

The time it was the second war
So full of peril and forebode
But we, it seemed, were “blivious” to
All but the strictest wartime code

All staples were on ration then
And green stamps were the stock in trade
With flour and sugar, salt and tea
Meted out with care when paid

And blackout was the norm back then
All windows shuttered fast by night
To carefully hold as best they could
Those foe-alerting rays of light

Direct across on Spencer Street
The Hatcher's house stood red and green
Three stories high with fenced backyard
It seemed a most mysterious scene

And Agnes Flynn, a child of fate
Lived on the corner of Parade
Above her mother's corner store
Where we would often stop for trade

And then in one horrendous blaze
Still vivid to impressioned will
Her life snuffed out and left with us
A fear of fire that lingers still

And holocaust of forty-two
The raging fire that levelled flat
The K of C, and took the lives
Of a hundred men right where they sat

And standing as a youth of seven
In bedroom window framed in blaze
And terror stricken at the thought
Of what next morn might meet our gaze

And then next morning at the site
Mere smouldering rubble and chimney standing
And firemen collecting in body bags
The charred remains of those remaining

And two doors up on our same side
Old widow Howell with cats galore
Which roamed the neighbourhood at night
And often-wailed in haunting score

And up a further ways, same side
The Windsor boys were friends of mine
Barry and Bubby were always there
To oft ensure a great old time

And Tricket’s grocery at the corner
Where we would often go for treat
And then one scary innocent time
When a dare and a deed with authority meet

And Johnson’s garage at top of Parade
Where as a lad I oft would linger
To watch the deft mechanic’s skill
Or use air hose to set bike tire

And Johnson’s had a candy store
Where now un-rationed chocolate bars
Were welcome treats to these young tastes
Who much preferred them to the cars

No backyard ours, mere narrow lane
But we had fun in spite of that
Clubhouses made of blankets strong
And birthday parties at table sat

The street behind was Newtown Road
Where other friends lived by the score
The Reids of Ernest, taxi man
Young Ern, Elizabeth, Phyllis and more

And right next door was David Lang
Best friend and buddy, games we played
Inside his house while mom’s away
Attending to the tavern trade

And on occasion we would visit
Mammy’s Tavern on old New Gower Street
Entering through the smoke and din
And up two flights to old things meet

And next to Langs was Jimmy Skanes
Older by a year or two
Proud owner of a CCM bike
No others had as far as we knew

The Downton boys next up the street
And Lindy Jackson, much admired lad
Who had a costume of Superman
And ran through neighbourhood thus clad

Across the street stood Shamrock Field
Home of the Newfoundland Regiment
Where we would visit on weekends
To catch the movies our intent

And murder mysteries were our favourites
Which stayed with us so vivid and raw
And haunted our dreams for weeks to come
And left us with a feel of awe

Nostalgic is the term of choice
When summoning up these memories dear
For each and every one will stay
Locked in my heart year after year
  Submitted By: John Cornick