To the Editor:

As my 65th birthday approaches, I cannot help but  reflect.  My fondest reflections relate to  the town in which I grew up. My wonderful Newtown.  I think about Dr Draper who let us climb his fence and steal an apple or two from his orchard.  He always knew but never said a word.  He brought us into this world, after all.  His babies all grown up.  I remember my friend Janet and I one night climbing the roof over the Center Lunch then owned by Martha and Joe Spiriti.  Don't know why.  Just something to do.  The police showed up and said “Sharon and Janet you had  better go home or I will call your parents!”  Enough said.  We went home.  Scared witless.  Parents meant something then. The police knew our names not from being awful people.  They just knew the community.  They knew our kid faces.  They knew our parents.  The police didn't haul us off in cuffs.  They didn't have to.  Our parents were our worst nightmare and the judge and jury and let me tell you we were sentenced to life without.

My Newtown.  The outpouring of love when my Dad died.  Not a dry eye of the 5,000 people who lived there at the time.  My first stop when my Dad died was to The Center Lunch.  The minute I walked in Joe Spiriti said “why are you not in school?”  Then I told him my Dad died.  He and Martha surrounded my young self with love and kindness. I can safely say that even though I have been away for quite some time, I assure you that if I called an old and ancient friend from that era they would pick up the phone knowing exactly who I was.  That's my Newtown.

 I am saddened that Dickinson Pool is no more.  I learned to swim there.   We called it the town park.  All the kids in town went there.  Walked there.  No cars taking us there.  You want to go swim – walk!

My grandfather and I would catch big old bull frogs on Hawley Pond.  For hours.  Then, at the end of the day, release them all.  Fondest memory ever.  Sitting by the edge of the water catching frogs with a net.  With my gramps.  The most fun was letting them go.  Then going up to the house for pork chops and peas.  Finally,  with the summer winds blowing through the window and my crisp pajamas fresh off the clothes line, I would sleep. In my beloved Newtown.  My safe Newtown.  I hang my pajamas on the clothes line to this day. I no longer have to steal apples from Dr Draper.  I have an apple orchard of my own  and put a sign in front of my house and my orchard:  All kids can pick what ever your want and whenever you want.  My apples are free to you.  Just climb the fence.  Please steal them.

Sharon Donahue Emerson

370 Walnut Hills Road, Staunton     April 13, 2015