How I Spent My Sweet Sixteenth Summer Vacationby Eva Pasco 
Mr. L, one of
the finest and certainly most inspiring English teachers I
had at Lincoln Senior High, assigned his sophomores a theme
composition on the first day of school--the better to break the
ice, become acquainted with us, and to assess our writing
skills, or lack thereof. Though I should have written
about my first summer factory job I
didn't. Instead, I
opted to embellish on those lazy, hazy days spent at
the beach, more in line with the generic
generalities spouted by fellow suburban classmates who
flanked me on all sides....
In 1967, I took my
first job under the umbrella of summer temp. Capitol Heel Lining
occupied a large part of the old Wanskuk Mill complex on
Branch Avenue, Providence. Battered and glass-shattered, the
Wanskuk stood its weed-littered ground on Rhode
Island turf from a bygone era when its machinery was
powered by raging water in this
eminently manufacturing state. Like an aging
sage, the mill's wisdom trickled through those walls to
teach me lessons in life I've never forgotten.
No. 1 -
Education is priceless. Beyond the
prevailing stench of glue and the 9 -5 noise of the machinery, not
to mention the tedious repetitiveness of menial tasks--the workers
hammered this into me. Coffee breaks and lunchtime
afforded me the opporunity to socialize with women
semmingly straight out of the moive Goodfellas. They
were a motley assortment of disillusioned and
burdened Maries, aged before their time. Hair ratted
beyond natural boundaries and fried by peroxide, they dissed
their less than stellar husbands and lamented the wrong turns taken
in life. They most always ended these tales of woe by
admonishing me to stay in school if I knew what was good for
me.
No. 2 -
Respect others and embrace differences.
Punching my time card each morning before taking my place at
the bench alongside the other girls, I chucked my myopic
vision of humanity nurtured by a sheltered life. I
began to crawl out of my introverted shell to mingle and pal
around with a prima donna whose mom was divorced and had a
boyfriend...whoa! Another girl whom I deemed tough with the
hard knocks to punch my lights out became one of my closest friends
that summer, and we enjoyed shopping downtown.
No. 3
- Live and let live, shunning authority for
authority's sake. Under my timidity, the
Sixties Chick within brewed that summer and thankfully still
flourishes. Quietly and subversively, on the sly of the
floor lady who checked our work piled at the end of our
bench, I glued the plastic eyes on a pair of lion slippers Clarence
"crosseyed." My faux pas escaped the floor lady's
hawk eye during inspection round while each of
us bit our lower lip and lowered our eyes to stifle a good
laugh.
The summer of '68
found me at the Wanskuk assembling pamphlets and booklets
at Sidney-Higgins Bookbinding, dominated by sweet old
ladies who taught me how to play a mean hand of gin when work
was slow. I would go on to have other summer factory
jobs, some leaving me grimy at the end of the day while
coming up against the least savory bullies society puts in charge
of women. Since I'd been a proficient typist at the age of
nine, I could have written my own ticket to land a cushy office
job, but I refused to wear nylons all summer. In retrospect,
working inside these sweat shops taught me the finest lessons in
life--the biggest one-- Don't get too full of
yourself.
Eva Pasco's
"Underlying Notes" may be purchased
here:
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.jpg "The 60s - Carl - 1968 - Vietnam")
