Life in the Ville by Jimmy Del Ponte

As I look up and down my street and see the trees and shrubs flowering, it signals another Spring in Somerville. This is the time of year all the kids started coming out to play again after the winter.

I moved into my house near Davis Square in 1960. There were many families with lots of kids that I grew up with and went to school with and hung out with. Out of the nearly 40 families with kids that all grew up on my street, there’s only a handful left. Just a few parents remain, not so much any of the children.

Out of all the neighborhood kids that I grew up with only one remains, next to me. Actually he lives one house away. We went to the Western Junior High school and Somerville High together. We played in bands together and we still help each other out. Living on the same side of the street, we can actually talk to each other from our back porches (see photo). We help one another out with home and car repairs, and other favors. That’s the old Somerville still thriving.

Years ago, I would look out my living room window and see a friend’s house in every direction. There would be at least 20 kids out playing in the street (two-way back then), right up until the streetlight went on or dad whistled. We’d play Relieve-E-O, Buck Buck and Red Rover. When I heard “Hi O Jimmy,” I dashed out of the house. My friends were calling for me. If I wasn’t being punished, I’d fly down the stairs to join the gang.

It seems a lifetime ago that we had a huge group of us riding our bikes like a cavalry brigade, over to terrorize the kids on the next street over.

When I look at the houses now I can still remember fondly the families and the kids that lived there. Most of our parents are gone and the houses have been sold, condo-ized, re-sold and flipped sometimes several times in the last 10 to 15 years. I am friendly with some of the new people but a few seem to want to stay to themselves. We don’t talk much yet. And happily there are a few homes with children, which is very reassuring. Maybe the old hood will thrive with kids again.

After decades, our neighbors on both sides sold. The folks who bought the two condos they made out of one of the houses are great neighbors and friends. The house on the other side has an ever changing parade of tenants that we never really get to become friendly with. Just an occasional nod.

Up until a year or so ago, there were three of us original ‘Ol Boys left on my street. SHS alums from ‘68, ‘71, and ‘72, and all three Western Jr. High grads. I was the newcomer in 1960, the others came in the 50’s. The guy who was on the street the longest sold the family house and moved to Florida about a year ago. We had tons of memories growing up. He was older and in a decent band that played at local dances. When his band performed at at Clements’ School dances I’d listen from outside. A few years later we were in a band together. His family home sold for 1.6 million. We still stay in touch. So that leaves me and my pal who lives one house away. We are lucky to still be in our homes.

There are a few families still on our street that have been here a long time. The surviving parents are well into their high 80’and 90’s. I’d say about ten or so of the old timers are still here.

Shep was my friend across the street’s dog. He was the friendliest dog ever, and the first dog I grew to love. My pal up the street also had a dog. His name was Fluffernutter, or Fluffy for short. Great friends, great dogs. Those friendly neighborhood dogs followed us everywhere, and came and went as they pleased.

I’ll never forget the kids from my street. Dickie, PJ, DJ (Shep’s owner), Jima, Jo Jo, Phil, and a kid we called Jello, just to name a few.

Right up the street and down the hill we had our own corner store, Oscar’s. We were there a lot. That’s when you could actually get penny candy for a penny. You could also play in the street safely back then.

All the spring flowers are in bloom again, signaling a new season. I wish people we lost came back in the spring like the flowers do. The beautiful tree I planted in my sister’s memory almost 30 years ago reminds me of the precious times we had as kids and keeps my sister’s legacy fresh.

It’s comforting to still be on the same street in the same house for 60 years. It sure wasn’t easy holding on, but I’m glad I did, with the grace of God, and the comfort of lifelong neighbors, family and friends.