SCITUATED IN SCITUATE... ON THE ROCKS 1956

March 17, 1956, is a day I well remember. Don Kent, weatherman, forecast a tempest like we would never know. Broadcast television was in its infancy. A couple of New England hurricanes had set the tempo in 1954 and 1955. Now, you can enter the "Fat Lady." Our barometers, falling as they did, did not tell the whole story. I was 13, in the 8th grade at St. Joseph School, North Brookfield, Mass. I knew something was up as I walked down to the center of town. I felt something in my young bones.


An 1924 Reo automobile graced McCarthy Automobile's lot. It was maroon and was covering with the white stuff. Blizzard warnings were posted on the coast. My dad's enthusiasm for the storm's potential taught me to become "weatherwise" while most others are otherwise! Ben Franklin.The Spring day was truncated by heavy snows falling well beyond an inch an hour. Dad and I delighted in the process. North East winds began to belt the Coast. We got excited.


I went outside to savor the snow. I was in my glory until a clap of thunder scared my mother to her wits end.Then she came to the window overlooking our driveway. She knocked on the windowpane as if to brake it. My fun was over with her summons to "come in." All night long the wind bore down. We were ensconced at 18 South Main watching our B & W television.


The news of the Century hadn't hit us until Saturday Morning. An Italian freighter was on the rocks at the Scituate Light House. Excitement grew as the rats aboard sought food and shelter. This event was like Don't Kent's graduation into the big leagues. Little did I realize there was more to the story.


In 1972 I purchased a Cape Cod style house at Third Cliff, Scituate. I knew living in Scituate would offer my anemometer new gusts. LOL. Living on the Coast was awesome. The South Shore, in many ways, is better than living on lonely Cape Cod. Boston is nearby to Scituate as are the Red Sox.


Now 60 years later the ghost of the Etrusco lives. Maybe we'll have another surprise when we least expect it. You never know?.There's nothing more beautiful than seeing ships negotiate the swells of Scituate in Summer. Actually I prefer a bona fide tempest all March long. Scituated in Scituate...you better believe it!

BEN  LONGNOOK

FOG WARNING HOMER

ETRUSCO GROUNDED UNTIL THANKSGIVING