How would you celebrate your 50th wedding anniversary?  Get married?  That’s what this love stories about.  When Ludmila Golfeld and Boris Shpolberg met in Odessa Ukraine, Russia, it was under communist rule and in 1962, when they decided to marry; no one was allowed to marry according to any religious custom.  Doing so would doom them to the gulag and most likely, certain death. Couples only option, if they wanted to marry, was a civil ceremony; so that’s what Ludmila and Boris did.             In 1996 the Shpolberg’s came to live in the United States and began to assimilate into our …

  Looking out my east-facing window at the sun sparkling on the ocean from Lynn to Swampscott, I was surprised to hear a low rumble of thunder.  I turned to my right to see what was happening and gazed out my south-facing window where the scene was quite different.  Clouds were swirling and threateningly dark, moving so quickly they soon began to cover the sky over the ocean as I turned with the movement toward the east again to see the sky no longer blue, but a churning gray on gray.  A sudden flash of light, long and sharp, crashed across my view from somewhere high up in the clouds as it …

  Jason P. Stadtlander remembers being a kid growing up in the middle of Ohio and saying that one day he was going to build a space ship. He told this to his father. Today, Jason is 37 and living in Swampscott and has a family of his own. He has a family, a house, a yard and a car but no space ship under construction. At least none that you can see. Instead he likes to take flight writing stories such as Ter’oc or In the Shadow of a Moment, set in a place much like Swampscott. In the Shadow of a Moment is a selection in a short story collection called Ruins of the Mind. Jason will release the…

  Among the collection of old pictures in Swampscott Town Hall, there is one showing the flooded street under the railroad bridge on Burrill Street.  Looking at the building on the right, just before passing under the railroad bridge and facing the Swampscott Depot, the sign at the top of this building reads; Durkee – Mower & Co.  Under that it clearly reads, Marshmallow Fluff.  Imagine this world famous company started out in our little town of Swampscott, Massachusetts.  Estimates suggest the picture was taken about 1924. When I saw the picture of the Marshmallow Fluff factory in Swampscott…

  In 1932 when I was ten years old my little sister Lois was born. I realized that this event would affect my life. When my little brother was born I was so busy out under the pine tree that I barely took notice, but this little fellow was now four years old, and he was also part of life out under the trees. It was a learning experience. Babies not only are born, but they stay around and grow into little people and participate in life and become family. A little sister would be different but in my ten year old mind I didn’t know how that would work out. I didn’t know anything about girls. The…

  The Swampscott Dory by Ray J. Whittier The aged dory abandoned in the snow,Remembering working days of long ago.When he would wait by the fishing shacksAnd the  Grand Banks  would call him back. He'd leave the sands of Blaney Beach,The crashing surf his bow would breach.Burly fishermen with their workday loadAcross rough waters his flat bottom rode. At the end of a long fishing day,He'd head back, gulls leading the way.Back to the twilit shores of Swampscott,His hull full of cod and haddock caught. Pitchforks flew, fish split and hung,Drying in the next day's sun.Salted fish stored in …

  Lest We Forget By Amy Lockerbie Smith  Fifty-six years ago on February 28, 1956, our little town of Swampscott entered the history books.    There aren’t many around now who remember that fateful day.  Newcomers say, “What train wreck” and pass the memorial without a thought as to the horror of the day.  This little story is a reminder, lest we forget. A Nor’easter was ravaging New England with gale force winds and freezing temperatures.  This vicious storm brought heavy snow which forced the closing of schools throughout the thirteen states and caused havoc on the highways. Railroad …

  Each day as we passed Miss Newcomb's house, I thought back to the year when we were in fourth grade and it was Halloween night. The man who lived next door was a sea captain and spent most of his time away at sea on freighters of the American-Hawaiian Lines. However, he was at home on Halloween and he felt his son and the rest of us boys deserved his attention. So he said, "Do you boys know how to stick pins in doorbells?" Off we all went in the October darkness to our teacher's home with the Captain. He told one of the boys how to push the bell and then stick the pin in so that it would …

  It’s a warm, windy, and sunny afternoon, the fifty plus degrees surprising in mid-December; a perfect day for an ice cream.  Bernice and I head off to Puleo’s for their tasty homemades on Route 107 to order our sweet treats.  She a strawberry frappe all foamy and pink; and I a coffee ice cream soda like my Dad bought me when I was a girl.  We salivate as we drive off to a beachfront Nahant destination. While driving over the causeway, the wind pushes the high tide over the wall to splash on our car as we pass.  Bernice ducks as if the particularly large wave could come in to drown her. We …

  It was about a half mile walk down the hill to the Hadley School from where we lived. There were lots of interesting things for me to observe along the way. In the residential neighborhoods the wood frame houses stood in rows on each side of the streets. Forest Avenue kind of became Redington Street at the intersection of Banks Road and Devens Road. Part way down Redington Street was a little neighborhood grocery store that was known as "Ginters." It was a busy little market. A little further down the street was a house where one of my teachers lived and a little bit beyond that I would …

  By Amy Lockerbie Smith The Blue Room Long, narrow stairs wound up through a high-ceilinged hall lit by a single glass-shaded bulb. The dim, old stairs creaked underfoot.  A faint odor from the rough, aged plaster could be detected on damp days. At the top of the stairs was the Blue Room.  It was the children’s bedroom. A large bed occupied most of one side of the room with its huge headboard rising loftily to the ceiling.  It was painted soft blue with black and gold fruit stenciled around the edges.  A dresser with a mirror stood against the opposite wall.  It also had fruit decorating its…

  Welcome to Egg Rock Lit. It's a new column on Swampscott, a town rich in history and stories and people who like both. Once a week we plan to post a literary item — a memory, a poem, a piece of local history or nonfiction or short fiction or anything else that you'd like to submit from your electric pen. The only prerequisite is that the subject be Swampscott or that the writer lives in Swampscott. We have two submissions to start. One is from a Swampscott resident who recalls her room from childhood. It's called The Blue Room and will run in tomorrow's Egg. The second piece comes from …