FRANKLIN
ANNIE
Born in 1938 in Boston, Massachusetts, Annie grew up surrounded by family, faith, and the closeness of a tight-knit Irish Catholic community. Her mother left a lasting impression on her. “She was a farmer, but she could do everything,” Annie recalls proudly. “She could sew, knit, paint, wallpaper, cook—she was extremely talented.”
Annie was one of four children—two boys and two girls—and though she was close with her siblings, her deepest friendship was with the girl next door. “She was my age, and we were like sisters. Our parents were close too, so it felt like one big family. We went to school together from first grade all the way through twelfth.”
​
School in Boston during the 1940s and ’50s was a world of strict structure and quiet discipline. “It was entirely different from what you have today,” Annie explains. “Everything was black and white—history, math, geography. The desks were nailed to the floor. There wasn’t the kind of open discussion or variety you see now.”
​
Like many young women of her time, Annie's early dream was to raise a family. “We all thought we’d grow up, get married, and have children. That’s what everyone expected back then.”
After high school, she began working in Boston offices—banks, insurance companies, and other clerical jobs that were common for women of her generation. “Everyone went into office work,” she says. “Typing, phones, paying bills, greeting people; it was steady work.”
Annie met her husband not long after her family moved to a new neighborhood. “There was a Saturday coffee gathering, and one day he walked in,” she smiles. “He’d just come back from the Army.”
Today, Annie finds meaning in community and service, volunteering with her church and spending time at the senior center. “I love meeting people and learning their stories,” she says.
“Be open to what happens in life. Travel if you can. Volunteer - learn about your community, your government, your church. Get as much education as possible, but don’t spend everything you have doing it. And above all, be thankful for the good things you have.”
BILL
Bill was born in 1937 at Boston City Hospital. He grew up in Roxbury, in a house buzzing with life: a grape arbor to sit under, a chicken coop with dozens of hens, and a small wine cellar. His parents, both from Italy, worked hard, his father as a plumber, his mother keeping the household running, and instilled responsibility, and pride in work. Bill was the middle of seven children, learning from his older siblings and discovering the joys of neighborhood games, baseball, and “half-ball” with worn-out balls cut in half.
Watching his father work sparked curiosity in young Bill. Even before he fully understood plumbing, he enjoyed fetching tools, feeling appreciated, and learning that effort mattered. That early inspiration shaped his view of life: small acts could mean a lot.
Love entered in unexpected ways. Bill recalls driving Betty, a girl from his neighborhood, to work and school, even though she had a boyfriend, talking along the way, learning about each other, and sharing simple adventures like roller-skate diners. Eventually, she broke up with her boyfriend, and Bill gave her a “friendship ring”: two tiny opals bought with weeks of his part-time earnings, a keepsake he still treasures decades later.
​
His career began after high school in a cooperative program, learning machine shop and drafting. He started at Polaroid, navigating night shifts and early mornings, ultimately spending 38 years with the company. It was demanding, but he kept his priorities clear: family and perseverance mattered more than exhaustion.
Fatherhood added new joys and challenges. Raising children in small apartments, moving as the family grew, and facing heartbreak, including the loss of his 21-year-old brother and later caring for his wife during illness, shaped Bill’s character. Reflecting on his childhood, he appreciated the love and guidance he’d received, striving to balance affection with teaching his own children responsibility.
Through life’s ups and downs, Bill treasures the ordinary moments, the small triumphs, and the love that endures. He encourages young people to see life with perspective, quoting Puck from A Midsummer Night’s Dream:
"If these shadows have offended, think of all as mended; you have but slumbered here while these visions did appear."
CLAY
Born in 1963, Clay grew up surrounded by family and memories that still make him smile. As a child, he loved spending time with his parents and traveling with them across the country in a motor home, adventures that left a lasting impression. “I went all over the country,” he remembers. “Round trips, valleys, everywhere.”
He went to Franklin High School, where he enjoyed his classes and time with friends. After graduation, Clay worked a variety of jobs, including Taco Bell and later in North Carolina at Queen City, where he spent a decade before returning home to Franklin.
​
Clay has found comfort in the things that bring him joy: watching movies (he owns “every movie you can think of,” he laughs), listening to Jimmy Buffett, biking, swimming, and the occasional basketball game. His favorite meal is a simple BLT sandwich, a reminder that the small things in life can be the sweetest.
​
The most difficult time in Clay’s life was losing his parents, whom he loved and admired. “When they were gone, that’s when it was hard. I cried.” He admits he wishes he had listened to them more as a child, especially when his father insisted on more family trips in the motor home. Yet those memories remain some of his most cherished.
“Take one day at a time.”
COLETTE
Born in 1952 in the seaside town of Bray, Ireland, Colette grew up surrounded by tradition — and occasionally, rebellion. “My parents were very conservative,” she recalls. “Catholic, strict, and my father was a stickler for being on time — never be late for an appointment, it’s rude to do that.”
Her childhood was filled with mischief and imagination — like the time she traded lace and dolls for “rocks and mud,” proudly turning her fancy doll carriage into a “very large construction piece of equipment.” Or when she took a hacksaw to her mother’s prized piano candlesticks just because she wasn’t allowed something. “Yes, I was kind of a rebel,” she laughs.
​
School, too, tested her patience. Educated under the Sisters of Charity, Colette describes her Catholic schooling as “extremely strict — they were anything but charitable.” That spirit led her to art. “Art is my thing,” she says simply. Despite her father’s warnings that she’d become “a drug addict and a layabout,” Colette put herself through art college and became a graphic designer for Ireland’s National Television Studios — achieving her dream entirely on her own.
After more than a decade working in design, Colette and her husband, Dennis, made a bold move — emigrating to the United States with their three children. It wasn’t always easy, but Colette carried with her the strength of her grandmother, who had survived the 1918 flu pandemic as a young widow raising six children. “She had tremendous courage. I always attribute getting a lot of strength from her,” Colette says.
That strength showed again in 2023, when a storm struck her Franklin home and a fire destroyed much of it. “It was difficult at the time, but we’re back in it,” she says.
Today, Colette describes herself not as religious, but as humanistic. “I believe in treating people with kindness, helping them, listening to them. You don’t need religion to do that,” she says. She raised her children with the same mindset — not with the rigid rules she grew up under, but with compassion and freedom to think for themselves.
“What you are is what you show to other people yourself.”
CORINE
Born in 1943 in Milford, Massachusetts, Corine has lived a life defined by resilience, hard work, and devotion to family. From an early age, she learned the values of honesty and responsibility, taught by parents who balanced understanding with high expectations. “They were very, very understanding,” she remembers, “but we all did things around the house to help them out.”
Corine enjoyed an active youth filled with sports and outdoor play. Softball, basketball, tennis, and bike rides with friends offered both joy and a sense of community. “We used to get together with friends all the time,” she recalls, reflecting on days that shaped her love of connection and camaraderie.
​
Her career was marked by dedication and versatility. Beginning with jobs at a raincoat factory and Jordan Marsh, Corine went on to spend 48 years at a local machine shop, navigating payroll, office duties, and more. Balancing work with raising two sons as a single mother at one point, she describes, “At one time I worked three jobs… my parents helped me out a lot so I could work.” These experiences forged her resilience, determination, and a sense of responsibility.
​
Family has always been at the heart of Corine’s life. She navigated early challenges in marriage, raising children largely on her own, and instilling in them the same values she learned as a child. “To make a marriage work, you have to talk… it’s give and take,” she advises. Her faith has been another cornerstone, guiding her through trials and triumphs alike: “To have a relationship with God is good, to know there’s a higher power that’s there for you.”
Even in retirement, Corine stays active and connected, finding joy at the senior center and in shared experiences with friends. She continues to watch her children succeed, finding deep meaning in their accomplishments. Through decades of work, family, and community, Corine’s life reflects a commitment to honesty, perseverance, and love.
“Be honest, be helpful, and no matter the circumstances, do what’s right.”
DAVE
Born in 1943, at Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit, Michigan, Dave’s life began in the shadow of World War II. His father, a mechanical engineer and Army officer, was overseas when Dave was born and didn’t meet his son until he was two years old. “He was fairly strict,” Dave recalls, “but he believed in hard work and doing your share.” His mother, a steady and caring presence, carried much of the parenting load while his father’s career took him abroad for decades as an international sales manager.
Dave grew up with three siblings, an older sister and two younger ones, and describes a childhood of both closeness and competition. “We were a little competitive with each other,” he says. His older sister, who became a lifelong educator in Chicago, was a powerful influence, though often preoccupied with her career.
​
Childhood also brought hardship. At just six years old, Dave was hospitalized for rheumatic fever and spent three long months in a children’s hospital in Pittsburgh. “It scared the heck out of me,” he remembers.​ The illness left him weak for years afterward, and returning to school was isolating. “When I came back, the kids I’d known had changed. I felt different. It was lonely.”
Dave later attended a large high school outside Pittsburgh and joined the track team, running and high-jumping among thousands of students in his graduating class.
After high school, he worked for a year before enrolling in college, where he majored in fine arts—a choice that angered his practical-minded parents. Eventually, he left college and found work at U.S. Steel, scoring the highest on an employment exam out of a massive room of applicants.
But when a union strike led to layoffs, he suddenly found himself unemployed and facing the military draft. Rather than wait to be called, he enlisted in the U.S. Coast Guard in 1965.
“Be open to learning. Work hard at something that matters to you. And treat people the way you want to be treated.”
DENNIS
Born in 1949, in Memphis, Tennessee, Dennis grew up in a household grounded in faith, family, and Southern warmth. His parents, both raised on farms, brought their rural values into city life after moving to Memphis. “I was the firstborn,” Dennis says with a smile. “So I was an experiment in their teaching—but I think they succeeded extremely well.”
Music entered Dennis’s life early. At eight years old, he remembers the day the family’s upright piano was rolled into the house—an image that still plays vividly in his memory. “I thought I’d do music as a career, and I think my parents influenced me for that,” he reflects. That decision shaped a lifetime.
​​
After earning his bachelor’s in piano pedagogy from Rhodes College, Dennis went on to pursue a master’s in sacred music at the University of Memphis and later a doctorate in music education from Boston University. “It’s been music all the way,” he says. Over the years, he taught in Switzerland, Ireland, and across New England—including Norton and Worcester—leaving behind generations of inspired students. He also served as a choirmaster and organist, blending artistry with community.
In Ireland, while conducting a local musical society, he met the woman who would become his wife, Colette. “She’d seen me before—from the back of my head, actually—at performances,” he laughs. “Then she joined the group, and I gave her a nice little part.” Their first date was in front of Trinity College in Dublin, where Dennis took her to a play.
“I just followed where the music led me — and it’s taken me exactly where I needed to be.”
HELEN
Born in 1954 in Brookline, Massachusetts, Helen grew up as one of five children in a bustling household. With two brothers and two sisters, she often found herself caught in the middle. “My mother was a sweetheart, the best mother ever,” she remembers, though she admits the siblings didn’t always get along. “I [felt] like I’ve got the middle child syndrome thing.”
Helen’s childhood holds both lighthearted and difficult memories. She recalls being just seven when her grandfather passed away: “I remember the dress my aunt was wearing, holding onto her hand, and then being told that Grandie died.” Yet her school years brought plenty of laughter. Sixth grade, she says, was “the best year of my life.” She and her friends pulled pranks and spent more time giggling than studying.
​
As a teenager, Helen enjoyed simple routines—watching her favorite soap operas after school, napping until dinner, and then studying late into the night. She admits she was “average” in school and, like many girls at the time, expected life to follow a straightforward path. “I just thought I was supposed to graduate and then get married and have babies,” she says. College didn’t enter the picture until much later, when she bravely quit her job, saved money, and enrolled at MassBay Community College.
​
Her career began with clerical jobs but shifted when she joined the New England State Police Information Network. There she handled data entry, reports, and confidential bulletins for local police and even the FBI. “It was very interesting, because I got to know kind of what was going on. It was very confidential—people would ask, ‘Are you working on that case?’ and I’d have to say, ‘I can’t say.’”
Life brought challenges as well. Helen speaks openly about facing mental health struggles as a young woman. “I wasn’t prepared for life, but I kind of got over it, and here I am,” she says. Family helped her through, especially her nieces, who remain a cornerstone of her life. “The only people you can really 100% count on is your family. I don’t care what other people think of me. I just care what my nieces think of me.”
Historical events also left a lasting impact. Both of her brothers served in Vietnam, and one was reported missing for a time.
Reflecting on her journey, Helen says she sometimes wishes she had pursued education further or studied archaeology, but she is grateful for the experiences and lessons life has given her.
“Live life, go to college, travel. Don’t let people tell you you can’t do it, and don’t ever feel like you’re not good enough.”
JOAN
Born in 1934 in the Bronx, New York, Joan was the only girl among three brothers. She grew up in a tough neighborhood watched over by the mafia, who surprisingly cared for the community: “When my mother had a baby at six and a half months…they went to the butcher and said that they would pay for all the meat.” Her parents taught her values of care and self-respect: “We had to take care of one another.”
Joan excelled academically, earning scholarships through college and graduate school. One day, she noticed a flyer announcing tests for the first group of women to attend Notre Dame—a school that had been all-male. Without any preparation, she says “I just walked in…’No, I like to take tests. I always learn something.’” Soon, she received her acceptance letter and became part of Notre Dame’s first female class. Many of her college and lab courses were male-dominated, but growing up with brothers, she confidently handled the challenges—and often learned more than her classmates by taking on the experiments they avoided.
​​
From a young age, Joan volunteered in her community, delivering homemade sandwiches to the sick and preparing meals for those in need. She learned compassion from unlikely sources: “I learned that you don’t judge…even if they’re sick because it’s their own fault…nevertheless, you should have compassion.” She also engaged with people of many cultures and religions, learning to question authority and stand up for herself: “You always have the right to refuse to accept [things]…we all have errors in our thinking.”
Her career spanned teaching every grade from kindergarten through college, social work, and biochemistry education. “Anything I was interested in, I went for it,” she said, persisting even when opportunities were restricted to men. Joan’s guiding principle is empathy and careful listening: “I can listen and I can support you, but I can’t tell you what to do…I’m not them.”
“Not to make judgments too quickly. Not to make judgments at all…unless you walk in that other person’s footsteps, you don’t know.”
​
JUDITH
Born in 1955, in Newton Highlands, Massachusetts, Judith describes her childhood as “a great one.” She grew up in the same neighborhood her parents had, attending the same local school and spending her afternoons outdoors with friends until the streetlights came on. “We’d come home from school, take off our uniforms, put on play clothes, and the whole neighborhood would be outside, with the dog, of course,” she laughs.
Her parents instilled in her strong, timeless values: “Honesty, being truthful, being respectful of people—especially adults,” she says. The oldest of three siblings, Judith learned early what it meant to lead with integrity and compassion, lessons that would shape the rest of her life.
​​
After attending parochial school, Judith finished high school in the public system and was accepted into Iowa State University—her dream school. “I went in as pre-vet,” she recalls. “We always had animals—cats, dogs, the whole works—and I just wanted to prove I could do it.” Although she eventually switched her major to leisure services, her love for animals and curiosity about the world never faded.
Moving from New England to the Midwest was a revelation. “It was culturally a learning experience,” she explains. “People out there were literally feeding America—and they were just so much friendlier than here. That’s the Midwestern way.”
After college, Judith returned home to Massachusetts, where she met her husband through mutual friends. They’ve been married for more than 45 years—something she credits, half-jokingly, to practical wisdom: “The first ten years, it’s love. After that—it’s money,” she laughs.
Judith’s career path took her in many directions, but each chapter reflected her adaptability and good humor. She worked in therapeutic recreation at a Greek nursing home—“a nice Irish girl who didn’t even speak the language”—before moving into administrative work and later the food industry.
“I always try to make the most out of any situation. I figure, I’ll be here for the last laugh.”
​
LISA
Born in 1960, in Milford, Massachusetts, Lisa grew up in a close-knit family with four siblings. She fondly remembers a childhood filled with outdoor play and time with neighbors, a slower-paced life where families shared meals together despite parents’ work schedules. “All of them were memorable,” she says, reflecting on her formative years.
Lisa attended St. Mary’s School until it closed after sixth grade and then transitioned to public school. She recalls the structure and discipline of her early education as shaping her character: “It helped me be structured and caring.” Teen years were filled with simple pleasures: trips downtown, penny candy, and movies with friends.
​​
Though Lisa attended night school while working full-time and never completed her degree, she built a long and meaningful career in business and administration, including supporting the principal at Keith Technical High School in Framingham. Along the way, she learned valuable lessons about patience, empathy, and navigating challenges.
Loss and resilience have also been part of Lisa’s journey. The passing of her parents left a void, but she carries their love and lessons with her every day: “I don’t want to get all teary-eyed… but you never forget them.”
Lisa finds purpose in helping others, whether at work or in her community. She encourages younger generations to embrace themselves and pursue what brings them happiness: “Just… be you. That’s gonna make it in life.”
“Be kind to people, and you get what you give.”
RICHARD (RICK)
Born in 1954, in Providence, Rhode Island, Rick grew up with his father, an “alcoholic and compulsive gambler,” and his mother, “a very driven, professional woman, intolerant of any nonsense or weakness.” From her, he learned persistence. “Keep going and don’t give up,” he says. Those early years were turbulent but formative, teaching him resilience and self-reliance.
Growing up in South Providence during the 1960s, Rick remembers the tension and fear that shaped his childhood. “We were the last white family on the street,” he recalls. “We moved in September of ’68 because there was gunfire on the street.” “Basically...my goal as a young person was just to get out of my house”, he admits.
​​
He did just that, pursuing psychology in college and later earning two graduate degrees. Rick went on to become a psychologist, running his own private practice and consulting for schools. “I used to do over a hundred evaluations a year,” he says, reflecting on decades spent helping others understand themselves. Still, the work had its frustrations—particularly “the insurance companies,” he laughs. “You spent so much time doing paperwork, it just wasn’t worth it after a while.”
Though he never had children of his own, Rick proudly notes that his late siblings “left me 17 of their grandchildren.” Family, community, and mentorship remain central to his life. “Last year was the hardest,” he says quietly. “My mother was in hospice with dementia, and the cat I was most attached to had a brain tumor. I’m still grieving her.”
Now, Rick channels his compassion and creativity into giving back. He founded the Time Away from Screens Foundation, a nonprofit that helps kids reconnect with the physical world through art and mindfulness. “It uses diamond art and labyrinths to get kids away from looking at screens all the time,” he explains proudly. He also teaches adult education classes, participates in Toastmasters, and plays pickleball—proof that purpose can take many shapes.
When asked what advice he’d give to young people, he pauses. “The world is so different,” he says thoughtfully. “Years ago, I’d say go to college. But now, with AI and all the technology, who knows? Everything’s just so… different.”
“Honesty is more important than being nice—it’s telling the truth.”
SISIN
Born and raised in Norwood, Massachusetts, Sisin grew up the youngest of three children. Her father was a college professor, her mother a homemaker, and education was always at the heart of family life. “They both believed in education,” she recalls. “That was the big value in our house—learning, thinking, using your mind.”
Life in Norwood came with vivid memories—the sound of trains rumbling nearby, family meals interrupted by the familiar vibrations of the tracks, and the bittersweet day her beloved dog, a beagle-basset mix named Bastard, chased a train and never came back. “It was funny at first,” she says softly. “Then really sad. He was a lovely dog.” School was a mixed experience—elementary school came easily, but junior high “not so much.”
​​
She was sent away briefly before being allowed to return to her local high school, King Philip Regional, which she remembers fondly. “I was so glad to be back,” she says.
Her favorite subject was French, thanks to a kind and inspiring teacher. “I think that’s why I majored in it later. It’s such a beautiful language.”
College came next, free tuition, thanks to her father’s faculty position. “I didn’t want to go,” she admits. “But I chose French because it gave me a chance to get away. I got to live in France for a year, and that was amazing.” Still, she found the language hard to understand in conversation. “Turns out, I actually have trouble differentiating sounds. I didn’t find that out until years later after an aptitude test. Would’ve been great to know before majoring in French!”
After college, she found her way into home care, almost by accident. “I started taking care of an elderly woman after high school. It just kind of stuck,” she says. “I liked old people. I always have.” That job became a lifelong career in caregiving. Her advice for the younger generation: “Learn skills—real, practical ones you can use. Follow your dream, but get the tools to make it work. I didn’t, and it changed my path. Skills give you freedom.”
“Life can get messy inside your head. So look around, breathe, and notice what’s right in front of you. That’s where the peace is.”
STEPHEN
Born in 1954, at Milford Hospital, Stephen’s life has always been rooted in community and resilience. His earliest memory dates back to age two at his family’s home, where he grew up with his brother and later his sister. “In the ’50s, there were only a few houses,” he recalls. “By the ’60s, there was the building boom-the sprawl from Boston-and people came and built houses.”
Childhood was filled with simple joys: softball games, horseshoes, and family outings. A favorite memory was visiting the Museum of Science and watching the Hayden Planetarium show. School days brought change and adaptation: double sessions, crowded classrooms, and eventually being part of Franklin High’s very first graduating class in 1972.
​
From a young age, work and responsibility were a big part of his life. Paper routes, farm jobs, and after-school shifts filled his teenage years. Though he once dreamed of becoming a veterinarian, his path shifted after college. He trained in heating, ventilation, and air conditioning, finishing first in his class, and went on to work at Tufts New England Medical Center, where he cared for pumps, generators, and cooling towers.
​
Over the years, his career spanned textiles, plastics, and food service, along with a long stretch at Stop & Shop. “I have a lot of life skills,” he says. “I’m adept at groceries, cooking, house repairs, and building maintenance. I enjoy doing that.” Through it all, he also gave back to his community, volunteering at the Franklin Senior Center and joining the Garden Group.
Life has not been without challenges. He speaks about hardships: housing struggles, financial strain, and feeling the weight of trauma. Yet he has always held tight to his values and faith. “The most important lesson life has taught me is the golden rule: follow the Ten Commandments.” Today, he remains in the family’s home, honoring his parents’ memory and staying grounded in the town that shaped him.
“Get an MBA, or be a nurse, or learn a trade. Study hard, and save your money when you’re young.”