My second oldest brother, Leo, is forever in my memory. He was always here for everybody. I remember him down by the river, with his rose bushes, his canoe. His rules for Ernie (who will be covered in another tale) and me not to get too close to the water, not to step on his flowers.
Leo was here with his car, to take us on rides, to visit with our aunts and uncles, and cousins in Watertown, Quincy, or just to ride and see the scenery, water, farm country with its cows, or to Boston, and on such rides we occupied our time singing, playing road games, naming the various cars on the road, checking out plates from different states, counting the cows
Leo played the violin, and sometimes would play with my brother Jimmy, who was here occasionally, even after he married. Leo was tea teaching me to play the violin and I did learn one piece (I remember it -- Toselli's eSerenade). My teacher was very strict and demanded my full attention to the lesson. One day he was listening to my work and I noticed some eyes at the window; my friends Eleanor and Norma grinning and making faces. This was too much and no matter how much I pleaded, Leo only said, "ignore them." Of course I wouldn't, and that was the end of my violin lessons.
I especially remember Leo, helping me with accounting homework, when I was in high school, and making it all clear to me. I can still feel his presence, looking over my shoulder, to the point where I began to understand some of the practices and even enjoy the study. And I remember his small desk in the hall where his yellow No.2 pencils, all sharpened to a perfect point, lay lined up, not to be disturbed by anyone (he made that quite clear to all of us). Leo was an accounting supervisor at Fabyan Woolen Mills, and the building they occupied became the location of Esther's Condo (at Sanford Apts) -- but another piece on my sister, Esther
When he worked at Fabyan Mills, Leo used to bring home bolts of woolen material, some really nice hues. Esther and I would select the wool we liked and Celia would made skirts for us. A few of my friends would stop by to look over the wool and for a small price, would purchase enough for a skirt, or jacket. They would prolong the visit, much to my distress, because they had Leo's undivided attention and I was a bit jealous of this.
I will never forget the day Leo drove me to have an interview for job, after I graduated from high school and began to be somewhat of a nuisance hanging around the house. I dreaded this, and I am not sure I made a really good impression on the man I was applying to work for. Anyway, on the ride home, I said to Leo something like: "I don't think I got the job, but anyway it's not important -- I have plenty of time." Leo's response really shook me up: "It's important -- you have to work like the rest of us; you're not a princess, you know."
