Tom Foley

Hello, my friend, thank you for stopping by to visit.

Our Daddy, Tim Foley, taught us well. As kids growing up during the Great Depression we may have lacked some material things, but never a shortage of music to be played or songs to be sung. There is, we learned as we grew older, a trait in our Scot/ Irish heritage that empowers us to express deep feelings of love and joy in a tender ballad, or to vent profound grief in a tearful lament.

After he finished the day shift at Engine Company #6 in north Elizabeth, N.J., Daddy would arrive home around 6:30 PM unless a third alarm fire extended his workday. He'd quickly change from his dress blue uniform into a faded blue work shirt and khaki twill trousers, while Mom , competing with the whistling tea kettle would call us kids, tell us to wash our hands and finally get the lot of us seated at the kitchen table. Meals back then were simple but adequate. Beef stew was always a favorite. We ate lots of vegetable, chicken and bean soup back in the 30's. Deserts, when we them, consisted of fruit, homemade pudding or just plain bread and jam served with strong tea,

After supper, my brother Ray, sister Geraldine and I would race each other into the living room and fight for the most comfortable chairs. Daddy would come in, settle our dispute and then slide onto a small round squeaky stool, while lifting the keyboard cover on the old and slightly out of tune Baldwin upright piano. Immediately, he would begin to play a melody selected from his inner repository of accumulated musical treasures. I remember him singing a beautiful and quite moving song called, "Stars Are The Windows of Heaven." Although many years have passed since I first heard it, I still get teary eyed whenever I attempt to sing it. This early introduction to music and song would later become a large swatch in the fabric of my life.

The desire to express myself more artistically began to emerge when I entered high school. Fortunately, in my senior year I encountered an English teacher who ignited a gentle flame of creativity that still glows within my being.

It began when Mr. Benson had us read, "To Build A Fire," a short story written by Jack London. The descriptive writing about the desperate plight of a man trying to stay alive created vivid images in my mind that triggered an epiphany experience for me...a sudden awareness of the beauty and power of words.

In my Our Echo story, "Poetry You Say," I relate my introduction to poetry by Sister Mary Charles who taught our English class in grammar school. In later years I would give voice to some of what she taught to comfort myself and fellow marines as we fought in a nasty war in Korea.

To receive a package of goodies from my Mom while hunkered down in a foxhole atop some Korean hill, even in a battle zone, was a welcomed treat. In the beat-up cardboard box were broken cookies, Hershey bars and a paperback book of verse. I immediately pigged out on the chocolate.

Some guys in my squad noticed by glancing at the cover, that I was reading a book of poems and asked me to recite a few. At first I thought they were kidding , but it soon became apparent that they really wanted to hear them. I read a couple of poems like, "The Shooting of Dan McGrew," and "The Spell of The Yukon," but the two poems these weary marines requested most often and the ones that seemed to convey a real link to their humanity were, "Little Boy Blue," and "Wynken, Blyken and Nod," both written by poet, Eugene Field.

Returning to civilian life I married Betty, my wife of 53 years, raised Tommy, Michael and Mary...all good kids. I worked many years for the Singer Sewing Machine Company in Elizabeth, N.J., and after moving to Maine I worked for Maine Public Broadcasting Company in Lewiston, Maine, until I retired.

Other thing about me:
I studied voice with Donald Gage, a popular tenor of Paper Mill Playhouse fame in Millburn, N.J., and have acted and sung the part of Curly in amateur performances of, "Oklahoma," in N.J., and played the part of Jud, the villain, in the same musical here in Maine. I am a freelance photojournalist and have for many years taken photographs for the Lewiston Sun Journal and the Advertiser Democrat in Norway, Maine. I wrote the, "Surf Line," column for the Jersey Angler News back in N.J., and the, "Voices Of Maine," column for the Lewiston Sun Journal. My photos and stories have appeared in Today's Photographer magazine and other publications.

Woodcarving wildfowl and game fish is another long time passion, along with rendering them in pencil drawings and watercolor sketches. When I eat out I often sketch a trout on a napkin while waiting to be served and leave it behind when I'm finished eating. Returning to the same restaurant weeks later, I often find the drawing posted somewhere on the wall.

Reading my stories and poetry aloud at the local coffeehouse is something I enjoy. I hope many you who read this will try it. Your voice is the instrument that delivers your unique words and honest emotions to all who come to hear you and the joy of feeling their response is beyond description.

I even try to sneak in an old song or two that my Daddy taught me.

Story ID:	3818
Written by:	OurEcho Admin (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:	In The Spotlight
Location:	Southern Maine USA
Year:	2008
Person:	Tom Foley