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By Winona (Peck) Gadapee

Fos­ter Page was a fam­i­ly close friend, a rel­a­tive (my father Reg­gie Peck­’s cousin), helper and ene­my of none.

Fos­ter was in my moth­er’s class at Danville’s Philips Acad­e­my, prob­a­bly the class of 1931. He and my Dad shared equip­ment, much of it Fos­ter’s, and they hayed and spread manure for each other.

My ear­ly mem­o­ries of Fos­ter were when I was per­haps eight or nine, my broth­er five years younger. Fos­ter would come to our house, sit in the kitchen chair near the door to sort of vis­it… Fos­ter was­n’t much of a talk­er. What he real­ly want­ed was to play with us kids until we were so wound my Moth­er would always end up sit­ting us in chairs for “Time Out”. Think­ing back, I can imag­ine she was feel­ing stressed before we got loud, because she always had so much to do and she was “caught” in the kitchen.