Winter Break

by Eva Pasco, author of "Underlying Notes"

Traditionally, the third week of February is reserved for winter break from school. As youngsters across the land rejoice in no more books or teacher’s dirty looks, I look back to my own winter breaks during my childhood of the Sixties at a five room ranch in the picturesque country setting on  Angell Rd. Bearing in mind that video games, DVD players, and computers were not at our fingertips to fritter away the time, allow me to escort you through a typical winter vacation of one week duration.  

 A New England strong post, chances are there was snow on the ground, enabling my sister and me to slide down the hill along the side of our house on our hardwood sleds with red steel runners and steering handles. This made up for not being able to ride our bicycles or roller skate. Invariably, inclement weather or frigid temperatures kept us indoors a great deal, forcing us to seek other forms of entertainment. 

My sister and I often propped ourselves in front of the TV set, the kind with knobs for switching three major channels or adjusting the volume and quelling those jumpy horizontal/vertical lines on the screen. Dunking Oreos in our glasses of milk, we’d watch some of our favorite cartoons or sitcoms of the day.  Rocky and His Friends, which premiered in 1959, was a hit with us.  Rocky the squirrel and Bullwinkle the moose went up against the likes of foreign agents, Boris Badenov and Natasha Fatale, whose accent I imitated flawlessly.  Yabba dabba do for The Flintstones, lined up on ABC (1960-1966), inspired by The Honeymooners. 

The most popular sitcom during the 1950’s and the number 2 show out of the top 50 greatest TV shows of all times, I Love Lucy,was our favorite rerun to keep us in giggles. “A horse is a horse, of course, of course” unless he’s Mr. Ed, the moody and opinionated horse who only talks to his architect owner, Wilbur Post.  Though, Mister Ed (1961-1965) was far-fetched silly, we got caught up in all the horse nonsense. 

Since the two of us weren’t couch potatoes, we’d shut off the set and head to the basement to forage for board games, write on our blackboards with chalk, build with our Lincoln Logs, or paint with watercolors.  Sometimes we’d dress up in our mother’s vintage clothing, hats, and heels to pretend we were high society matrons.  Other times I’d be off on my own listening to my 45’s while my younger sister jumped in her foot-peddled jeep and careened around corners of the basement to imaginary destinations.  Somehow we managed to enjoy a brief respite from school without leaving the confines of home. 

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