Main Street, My Old Friend

 

Main St., My Old Friend

Main Street was perhaps my earliest “meaningful relationship”, a symbol of community and an unforgettable face with steel tracks still embedded in the concrete from days before 1921 when the trolley ran there regularly. My earliest recollection begins in 1950, when it hosted the Memorial Day Parade, terminating at the park with the ceremonial wreath laying and twenty-one-gun salute over the harbor. Clear memories remain of those old veterans dressed in uniform with rifles at their shoulders, young boys riding bicycles with baseball cards in their spokes, boy scouts, cub scouts, the school band and the smell of hot dogs grilling in the air. As a young lad of four and newcomer to Northport, I soaked in the patriotic activities, partially in awe and partially in fear at the military twenty-one-gun salute.

Our house, a big old Victorian at 432 Main Street and the security of my world had not yet expanded much beyond the view from my bedroom window. Our little town was where a child could grow up with friends and still be within ear-shot of the “dinner bell”. Playing marbles, running through leaves and trying to hold a baseball bat were some of the challenges back then, but soon the school district would become part of my daily life and I'd discover new crossroads. In school, I would learn to interact with other children and soon, the Halloween celebration would take us back to Main Street where the school officials had organized a parade. Main Street would be alive with the sounds of little feet on the pavement as the children advanced toward the school for the Halloween Dance Party in their creative costumes.

As, Fall gave way to winter, fire trucks preceded the Santa Claus Parade as Main St. became the focal point of Christmas tradition. In full regalia, Santa bellowed his ho-ho's and threw candy to the kids from atop his glistening red, gold and chrome perch. At our firehouse the volunteer firemen welcomed all the youngsters as Santa gave out candy and oranges. Main Street was once again center-stage for a mini-chapter in growing up. At all seasons, Main St. was happening. There were boat raffles in front of Jones Drug Store, Easter Parades, block parties and the annual Fireman's Fair at the foot of Main Street in the parking lot overlooking the harbor.

In a few short years Main Street would become the backdrop for the wonder years. The village bus stop provided a travel opportunity, to Huntington and to East Northport for a quarter and a dime, respectively and a couple of young lads could grab a taxi at Quinlan's on Main St. if they wanted to go bowling at Larkfield Lanes in the next town. A new venture in freedom revealed for us, timely, considering John F. Kennedy's “New Frontier”.

In adolescence, Main St. took on a different role. The public phone booth on Main Street was where a young guy could call a girl for a date in privacy, and a teenager could showcase his “fifties-cool” on the sidewalk. Main Street store owners welcomed school kids at Halloween to decorate the windows with poster paint and as a “public service to young ladies”, Main St. became the venue for “American Graffiti, by day”, an impromptu parade of hot-rods. Teens “scooped the loop” in search of that special gal who needed a ride and the music in the air was heavy with Rock & Roll as steel chariots idled by with occasional RPM bursts. It was a primal dance that would eventually lead many young folks to the alter of matrimony.

Life took on a more realistic view in early adulthood and as the games of youth faded, it was time to move on in the mainstream of life. Main St. became a serious path between home and work. It was time to cast a metaphorical anchor and care for a young family that would become the next generation of citizens. For some of us, it became a route away from town, literally. Some went on to make their mark on the world, and some stayed to became pillars of this little community. For Northporters, Main St. remains a starting line and a finish line as well. It's a conduit to a yet undiscovered journey and a welcome mat for those returning. When I set out on my life's quest as a young man, Main St. bid me farewell but remained ever steadfast and vigilant. When I returned for a visit in my golden years, it was there to welcome me home, a wealth of unwavering loyalty. And so, in the words of the Troubadour, Willie Nelson, “Lord, when all my work is done, bless my life and grant me one.......just one.......old friend”.