On The Silly Side by Jimmy Del Ponte

(The opinions and views expressed in the commentaries of The Somerville News belong solely to the authors of those commentaries and do not reflect the views or opinions of The Somerville News, its staff or publishers.)

I would like to welcome back my friend and this week’s guest contributor, Somerville’s own Anthony Accardi Jr.:

Each time I go out onto Facebook, I check up on all the Somerville groups that I belong to. Groups like “The Street in Somerville you grew up on” or “You know you’re from Somerville when…” or “Views of Historic Somerville Mass.” I cannot begin to say how much I enjoy the memories, stories and photos that have been posted to these groups. Stories and photos of forgotten restaurants and hangouts, things we did as children, or places and things that no longer exist. Naturally, I have contributed my share of stories and some photos. What I find missing though is stories about “us,” the people of Somerville. I have found very little written about the people that make up this great city. Things like our camaraderie, our little inner city habits and most important of all, just how nice we really all are.

My grandfather purchased our 3-family house on Heath Street in 1966 for less than 25,000. Yes, you are reading that figure correctly. At the time I was only four years old and even then I can remember the hospitality and friendliness shown from the neighbors, many of whom had already resided here for 20 plus years. As the years went by and our relationships grew with our next-door neighbors, they became more like family than friends.

Whenever we grilled outside, they too were doing the same thing. The yards were small and the houses were close together. Food was passed back and forth over the fences. After dinner, either they came over to our yard or we went over to theirs for coffee and dessert or to just sit on the piazza (that’s what we called the back porch) and listen to the Red Sox game on the radio. In the winter, whenever it snowed, we all helped each other shovel our cars out and clear each other’s driveways and sidewalks. Our reward was not only a “thank you” but an invite inside for something warm to eat or drink or both. If you were having car troubles, there was always someone there to lend you a hand, give you a lift or even let you borrow their car.

Somerville in general has always been a working community, a blue-collar city if you will. Some of us are a little more well off than others, yet we all share the same pride. What we have in life, we worked hard for. Nothing was ever given to us. Some of us have accomplished very little in life and some of us have become success stories. No matter how each of us made it in life, we never forgot where we came from nor did we forget those we grew up with.

Our parents (many of whom also grew up in Somerville) taught us the difference between right and wrong. They also taught us good manners, to respect, help, and not talk back to our elders. The same thing that they were taught by their parents. We appreciate what we have and we live by the old adage that if a person has family and good health, that person has everything and that’s all that matters.

I now live in Wilmington and I am in Somerville on a weekly basis, mostly to visit my family. I know Somerville has changed over the years. One thing that amazes me that has not changed is that we all still congregate on each others’ front steps (or front stoop) in the summer. You can still tell when supper is over in Somerville. The front steps are filled with parents from all over the neighborhood. They shoot the breeze while their children play. In my old neighborhood, someone would run to Dunkin’ Donuts for coffee and donuts or the person, whose steps everyone had congregated on that particular night, would continually provide coffee, snacks or other refreshments. Walking to the store for something simple could take hours because as you passed each house, you were captured into each conversation. Sometimes you had to stop at 10 houses before getting to the store and you still had to pass by the same to return home.

I certainly miss Somerville and its wonderful people. What is nice, though, is that my new adopted hometown is about 40% former Somervillians. It is like old home week all the time. Every five years I have my high school reunion. The people that I have known since I was five (and some I have not seen in 35 years) still remember my parent’s first names or illnesses someone in my family may have had 30 years ago. They ask how they are now or if they are OK. They remember the smallest favors they did for me or I did for them from 30 years ago. We thank each other again – 30 years later.

You see, we are a very caring bunch of hard working people that look out for one another. For some reason we have earned a bad reputation and get many bad raps, but we don’t care. Say what you want about us. We know who we are and what we’re all about and we aren’t going to change for anyone. When you think of us Somervillians, think of Bruce Springsteen’s new song We Take Care Of Our Own. Only take it up another notch. “We’ll take care of everyone.”