Farewell Hyannis News Readers? (VIDEOS)

PHOTO: 1981/82 Barnstable Red Raider Varsity Hockey Team, FRONT ROW RIGHT TO LEFT: Robbie Bastille, #20, Scotty Nightingale and Kieth Nightingale, Scotty Nickerson, Paul Malchiono, Jimmy Murphy, MIDDLE ROW: Asst. Coach E. LeBlanc, John Conway, Jon Gemme, Steve Hirschberger, Billy Kenny, Mike Boden, Scott Coreiro, Mark Glover, Jay Patrick Johnson, Coach Pete Malchiono, BACK ROW: Johnny Pass, Darren Nickerson, Tommy Fuller, Peter Dallow, Billy Elliot, Jim Storey, Bobby Holzman, Andy Stewart, Tommy Jenkins.

HYANNIS – I was 4 and half years old when my dear Irish-Canadian mom took me over to the Kennedy Memorial Rink and taught me how to skate during a jam-packed public ice-skating session.

Mom had recently immigrated here from the Canadian Maritimes just in time for the Massachusetts’ “hockey hay days” surrounding the legendary Boston Bruins and Bobby Orr.  Support for the game was at an all-time high.

Hyannis kids would receive free autographed sticks from local professional hockey heroes as the Cape Cod Cubs franchise paraded its way down Main Street.  Hockey was in the air.

There wasn’t a red-blooded HyTown kid in existence that didn’t own a pair of skates and know how to use them.  Neighborhoods were littered with homemade street hockey nets and dented-in garage doors, evidence of a thriving hockey culture.

For mom, the quaint little hockey/fishing village of Hyannis, although second best compared to her little fishing town back in northeastern Nova Scotia, was a welcoming climate for her new quest of the “American Dream.”  The sight of healthy children and hockey sticks made the transition easier for the gentle but strong willed Irish Catholic with her collection of bag pipe music and albums of JFK’s speeches – it is believed that being walking distance from the Saint Francis Church and a descent hockey rink was not open for debate as she considered whether the area would be a suitable environment for her children. 

Cold dark early morning memories of her carrying my equipment carefully stuffed into an old army surplus duffle bag as we walked across South Street, up Pine Ave. to Main Street, across the barely lit Zaire’s parking lot toward the wide open Kennedy ice surface are treasured examples of dedication, strength, and beauty.  We’d arrive in the “warming house” where she’d lace me up and tell me to “go get ‘em Robbie!” with her unique Irish-Canadian twang.

And so it went, many a frigid early morning I’d anxiously pester my mom to hurry up as she laced and I chomped at the bit, staring out onto the Kennedy hockey surface, the sun just barely peeking up from behind the net near the Bearses Way end. 

My mom did her best in finding fertile ground to raise her family.  She became President of the local Catholic Nurses and eventually retired from a long career at Cape Cod Hospital (which was just a tiny brick building when we all first arrived).  She went on to somehow settled for just three children despite the fact that "back home" her siblings averaged at least 10 kids per family!  Which suited me just fine for I loved being the only "Yankee" as we cousins all chose teams during the summer visits... and we’re all now grown, alive, and well, thank you very much.  Although her grown children frequently yearn for the simple life of her Nova Scotia ancestry, mom still resides in the same house in Hyannis where her good memories outnumber her bad. 

As she presently walks the streets, despite now having a driver’s license and a nearly 20 year old Toyota, I try to walk with her as often as I can...  Just like the old days when we walked everywhere in this town, to the hospital, doctor offices, movie theaters, and grocery stores, with her toting most of the packages... Long, long before there was a Cape Cod Mall, or anything resembling a Cape Cod Mall.  And as I walk beside this great American woman, I often try to put myself in her shoes as I ask myself whether or not she still can see the beautiful pristine little Hyannis hockey village she once envisioned some forty years prior.

Does she still believe?

Does she still see a hometown Hyannis village fit for a family?

And although I never quite put these questions to her for fear of what her answer may bring, I occasionally see a knowing twinkle in her eyes as she slowly but surely meanders along, and it’s then I still believe...

(...this may be the last thing I have to say on Hyannis News  -  Thank you for reading  -  May God bless and keep you all!)

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Press play and enjoy the sweet sounds from northeastern Nova Scotia:

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