While I was busy growing up in Swansea, Massachusetts there were many good New England people who influenced the course my life. Coach Bob Bannister for one. In addition to teaching at Case High, he was the supervisor of the boy's gym classes and he coached all three of the major sports. It was not unusual during the fall football season to be in contact with him six days a week...if one considers the Saturday game. There was Scoutmaster Al Lawton of Troop 1, Swansea. Not only was he devoted to the Boy Scout program, but he organized and found time to lead a drum and bugle corps that was the best in Bristol County. He was a humble man of limited means who could always find time to make a relatively minor Boy Scout award a major achievement to the individual concerned. Another memorable influence during my years of growing up was the Reverend Sherrill Smith. He was like a second father to me due to the fact that his son Sherrill Jr. was my closest friend. Never a day went by that our paths din't cross and it was he who guided me through all the early religious phases of becoming an Episcopalian, particularly in my acolyte years.

There was also a lady who was almost inseparable from my daily activities during the first eighteen years of my life; Ruth Bosworth Eddy.

I do not recall my first meeting with Miss Eddy; for as I search my memory, she was always "there." I'm sure I was in my mother's arms when we first met, perhaps at baptism, when she probably smiled at me, an event not often repeated over the years to come.

Our first one-on-one encounter took place in the Stevens School when I was in the third grade and it was on the occasion of organizing the Rhythm Band. For two previous years, my participation had been holding a small, silver triangle and striking it when appropriate with a small silver rod. It was a humble experience, but such was my contribution to the order of things in that ensemble. As a third grader, I was promoted to conductor. My training by Miss Eddy was intense. I was expected to lead the band by making a motion with the baton as if to duplicate the sign of the cross; up, down, left, right. I was instructed to hold the baton lightly between my thumb and forefinger, allowing the remaining three fingers to kind of "wave" at the band. Such a lasting impression! If I were selected to conduct the National Symphony this evening I would do so; making the sign of the cross and waving at the orchestra with my remaining three fingers.

Every elementary student in the Swansea School system studied music with Miss Eddy. Once a week she would come rushing into the classroom always in a hurry distribute her music, then blow one note into a device that resembled a yellow, hamburger patty. We would then all sing with gusto, as children do.. This weekly lesson would take place for all eight years of grammar school. Miss Eddy had perfect music attendance at all five Swansea elementary schools.

By the time I entered high school, my talent as a violinist and piano player had been exhausted and it was up to my Uncle Alston to teach me to me to play the trumpet. This automatically made me a member of the Case High School orchestra. In those days that was the order of things. Our orchestra leader was Miss Eddy.

I played the trumpet quite well, but mostly by ear. I developed an aversion to reading notes and because of this musical shortcoming, Kenny Chapman, Charlie Sweeney and my good friend Sherrill played sheet music better than I did. I was therefore relegated to playing the third or fourth part, a long way from enjoying the melody. I did not play these parts well, nor did I enjoy them. So when a popular piece like "Stars and Stripes, Forever" was played, I would close my eyes and swing into the melody. The reaction to my transgression was immediate. Miss Eddy would bring down her baton in a very positive motion; striking the top of her music stand and with a look in my direction that I cannot describe, she reminded the whole orchestra the need for each member to pay attention to our individual music. I cannot tell you how often I brought that orchestra to an immediate halt.

During the football season, Miss Eddy and some of the remnants of the orchestra became the high school "sitting band." There were not enough members to be a "marching band." The music was less than inspirational, but heartily played. A missing ingredient was the trumpet players all of whom were on the football field. I can still remember, however, losing my football concentration and humming a third or fourth part of the music which the band was playing.

There came a time when Sherrill and I were not up to speed with our book reports. My father made arrangements for us to show up at the Town Library at a time that would not interfere with our extracurricular activities and which enabled us to spend a "quiet hour" in the reading room. The town librarian was Miss Eddy. As we both arrived for our "quiet hour," we knew we get some personal attention from Miss Eddy and we anticipated the reminder that "we were not living up to our potential." To this day, I remain a very good reader.

During my middle high school days and during World War II, I became the sexton of Christ Church because of the shortage of more older and more reliable men. Most of my day to day activities inside the church were supervised by Mary Nottingham, the head of the Altar Guild, who apparently volunteered for this job for life. But there was, however, another person to be recognized: Miss Eddy, the choir director and organist. Her list of things for me do varied in length but was ever present. For Thursday evening choir practice I had to see that the church was warmer in winter and cooler in summer. I had to provide proper lighting in the chancel. I tried to achieve all this before she arrived for she always had something extra for me to do. Once she arrived, in her small black Ford coupe, she hurried into the church and once inside, she became a whirling dervish in her flowing black robes, large white collar and a hat with a tassel that remained in perpetual motion.

One of my more traumatic sexton moments occurred on a cold, dark winter day, after the late church service. A light bulb over her organ music prematurely expired during the anthem. Her forceful orders to me for appropriate corrective action, to insure that this would never happen again, would have made a Shakespear tragedy seem like a love play. A package of six, extra bulbs, readily available next to the organ, was the solution. I confess that one night before choir practice, I loosened the light bulb hoping it would go out due to the vibrations of the organ's bass notes. This was the test to the corrective system. The next day, there were only five bulbs left. The system worked. There were no repercussions.

During my high school years, I participated in the operettas and minstrels shows, all of which were under the guidance and direction of Miss Eddy. In one of the operettas I was the "Cavalier In Red"and Miss Eddy decided to introduce a popular song of those days into the score. It was titled, "I'm Just A Prisoner Of Love." Chosen to sing the part, Miss Eddy rehearsed with me in the empty high school auditorium and I sang capella. I knew I was no Perry Como and I thought to myself, "If I sound like this the night of the show, I will be booed off the stage."

Another memory was my time acting as one of the "end men" in the minstrel show. Mr Interlocutor (Lloyd Dixon) asked me a question: " I understand you don't care much for high school?" "Oh, it's not so bad," I replied. "It's just the "principal' of the thing that bother's me." (My father was principal of Case High.)

I was one of the three Wise Men at the Christmas Pageant at Christ Church. Sherrill and Stacey Brown were the other two. Singing the Christmas hymns taught to us by Miss Eddy since the first grade in elementary school, was never a problem since we knew all the words by heart; however, since she was in charge of the pageant, she carefully supervised the wearing of our Wise Men robes to the very last detail. And although we thought we looked like wayward ragamuffins, she would exclaim to all during the rehearsals, "And there will be no laughing or horse play during rehearsals. This is a serious, religious event." Amen to that!

After my graduation from the Naval Academy in 1953, I returned home to Swansea to marry Joy Deane. If there is one thing that Joy and I had in common from the start, it had to be Miss Eddy. Active as a cheerleader, class officer, and in the Glee Club at Case High, Joy also sang in the Christ Church choir. She was "Eddy" oriented. So it was on our wedding day, it was Miss Eddy who played the organ. No one else would have been more appropriate. Among all the very special memories I have of that day, one is refreshingly etched in my mind. Before the wedding march began, I looked over at Miss Eddy sitting at the organ. For just a moment our eyes met and she smiled. I do believe that day, as I stood there in my Marine Corps Dress Whites, that she looked on me with approval and was thinking of the many parts she had played in my life, leading to this moment. And indeed she had!

Is it any wonder that during my infrequent visits to Christ Church, I wander through the cemetery to spend a few moments with so many old friends and unknown distant relatives who share my name... and that somehow, I always stop and spend a little extra time at the head stone that reads, "Ruth B. Eddy"..... Rest in peace, old friend.