The house in which Joyce was born was located less than two miles from where Bob started, and on a parallel road. Both Brooklawn Terrace and Toilsome Hill Rd. fed into Stratfield Rd. (DI-10). Although the picture leaves much to be desired (as most old black and whites do), we have included it to show clear evidence that it snows in Connecticut in winter and to show one of the pair of Coloradio Blue Spruce (Picea pungens) trees growing in the front yard, which have long since been removed. The house was of two story frame construction and like Bob’s, there was a two car detached garage just shown on the far right of the picture. Like most houses built in the first forty years of the 20th century, and the accompanying detached garages were designed for the rather small sized early autos of the period.
The Edwards’s garage was no exception, so in the late 40’s when considering a new car purchase, the garage would not accommodate the model of their choice. Extending the garage was the best (if most complex) option. Oddly enough,the situation was rather easily remedied. Joyce’s dad (Lou) decided he needed to put the old Buick in the garage. Now Lou had a bad inflexible knee such that he needed the seat fully extended back when he drove. When he got in the car this time, some previous driver (to remain unnamed) had moved the seat way forward. While it was tight, Lou figured he could at least make it to the garage, Well, he did. The only problem was he could not flex his leg enough to reach the break – Wham!! Right into the back of the garage and on to the back fence before coming to a rest. Amazing! Lou was not hurt, the old Buick had minimum, damage (they made ‘em tough back then, no plastic, aluminum, or other flimsy substitutes for plain old steel) and the entire back wall of the garage was completely in tact, no broken boards and a clean break with both sides and the roof. By extending the two sides and roof a few feet and reattaching the back wall they were ready to introduce their nice new, shiny and long Oldsmobile into the inexpensively remodeled garage (which in the process managed to get itself cleaned up).
There was no Porte cochere’ or side entrance off the driveway providing direct access to the full cellar. That entrance was provided by a separate cellar door open to the outside in the back of the house. While there was no screen porch on the other side of the house, a raised patio (with awning in the summer) accessed directly from the living room made an ideal summer spot that usually provided a breeze. To the far left at ground level, note the cellar door. Basically it amounted to two hinged wood panels that pulled to the side revealing a set of stairs leading down to a big wooden door at the bottom that entered directly into the basement. At least it did if you could force it open. Being of wood the door would expand and contract with moisture and temperature. We could spend an entire chapter on this feature, including leaving the outer doors open and the standing water at the bottom of the stairs, various things being thrown down there and the overall aquatic atmosphere of the entire basement. But we don’t have time, and will leave it to my reader’s fertile imaginations. Whatever you think or dreamed happened, probably did. In spite of all that, most of the basement was suitable for storage of canned (bottled) vegetables and other things as long as they were stored on elevated shelves. When water became a problem, an installed sump pump was brought into action (DI-10).
The patio is shown on the other side in the back of the house, and since the awning is not visible the timeframe here is probably early fall or late spring. You must remember, there were virtually no window and certainly no central air conditioning units in northern homes during this period, or for many years to come (at the risk of repeating myself). Even now it is hard for me to remember how hot and miserable it could be upstairs in the summer. Although basic construction of the house was similar to Bob’s, the internal floor plan was shifted 90 degrees. That is, instead of a basic N/S orientation (kitchen, breakfast nook and dining room to the north, and living room the entire south half), 588 Toilsome Hill Rd. was a house oriented E/W. Instead of the stairwell against and exterior wall, this stairwell was situated in the middle of the house such that the front door entered into an entry way directly leading to the stairs and hall closet (coats etc.). Entering the door and directly to the left was an arched entry to the living room that extended the full width of the house, with a back doorway to the outside patio. Along the western wall was a substantial fireplace across from which was a full sized couch. Just before the patio exit, a chair and TV were located on the west side of the room, while the east side held a desk where Joyce’s dad (Lou) conducted his insurance business. This business he did mostly after retirement. During his working years he served as Treasurer of a major electronics firm (Harvey Hubble, Inc.) located down in Bridgeport. My Dad, being vice president of the city’s major financial institutions, knew and interacted with Lou Edwards as Treasurer of a major client. Later on when Joyce and I were dating, he couldn’t believe “Old Lou” had a daughter that young. Well Pop, folks can fool you. The founder of Hubbles was himself an inventor. He developed the concept of plugs and sockets that transformed Thomas Edison’s work from a workbench phenomenon to a viable market reality.
Joyce’s Mom Bessie was Lou’s secretary at Hubble’s. After divorcing his original wife, Lou and Bessie married and produced sons Lou Jr. and Gordon, and as a last gasp, Joyce. As a wife and mother, Bess excelled well beyond a mere secretary, and as my mom, provided the glue that held it all together. I loved her as Joyce’s Mom and never (in future years) my “Mother-In-Law”. The connotation just never fits. After all, anyone who laughs at your jokes can’t possibly be considered as a “Mother-In-Law” (Plate DI-10).
The Edwards’s were church fearing folks like we were. They didn’t travel south into Bridgeport but opted for a small Christ Church in the Easton Township just north of where they lived. A more complete rendition of this church (Christ Church) is shown in a recent picture. Except for the paint job and some missing and larger trees, not too much has changed in 76 years, It was and is simply a beautiful country church. Joyce’s early life was not unlike most suburban raised kids. She was however, the only girl I knew who was affectionately called “Pete”. Joyce had two older brothers (Gordon by 2 and Lou by 4 years). They were bound and determined that they were about to get another brother and when a girl (of all things) showed up, she was tagged with the name of Pete, the brother that wasn’t (DI-11).
Joyce was initially enrolled in Stratfield Elementary School (a bit north of my Lincoln Elementary School). Her home was located toward the southern boundary of that school’s district, and by the time she reached 5th grade, the boundaries changed to Toilsome Hill and East of Stratfield Rd. was included in the Lincoln School District. While she was the closest, four other kids from further north up Stratfield Rd. were included. We first met in 5th grade, and had a great time joking and “cutting the fool”, but it was years before we were to meet again. Of course we were young enough not to have any question about it. Turns out she had a snow sled accident (tree) that left her with two broken arms. That laid her up enough that she had to make up an entire school year. But she mended well and went on to matriculate in 1944, and like me attended Roger Ludlow (Fairfield) High School for one year before entering Cushing Academy, in Ashburnham MA. During the interim period, she progressed through the “Brownie” scout movement, and moved on to the Girl Scouts, with associated meetings and summer camps.
Family vacation activities in the early days were focused on summer fun at the beach at Bay Pointe near Milford CT. From picture evidence, more than just the Edwards family enjoyed Bay Pointe in the summer. Ever present Boston terriers, propagated during her childhood by her mom, shared the vacations as well (DI-11). They rented a cottage while at Bay Pointe and some land activities were routine. The real allure, however, was the waters of Long Island Sound. That was true of all the summer visitors, of course, and the beach was quite a spectacle on any hot summer afternoon (DI-12).
Once the summer was over, it was back to school and the beginning of fall activities. In addition to the scouting program, there was Miss Comer’s Dancing School. Don’t laugh, I was relegated to the same fate, but on a different day. Both were held after school. Different types of dancing were taught, and Joyce was subjected to a bit more than mere ballroom dancing (I never wore a tutu). One thing I remember though, we all had to wear white gloves, and Ms. Comer was very strict about our dress. At the opening of each class, the students were lined up and one by one made a grand entrance to receive Ms Comer’s hand, all to the music of Miss Elsie (Ms. Comer’s sister), the piano player (DI-12).
One day, Dudley Savard (a good friend with an unstable sense of humor) showed up with a pair of white “Boss” gardening gloves (you know the ones with the blue elastic wrist bands) with which he grabbed her hand. The reaction was remarkable, showing Ms Comer had an actual sense of humor too. First her mouth just dropped open, the class burst out laughing, Miss Elsie almost fell off the piano stool, while Ms. Comer recomposed herself. Lifted her hands in the air and doubled over laughing along with us.