FAMILY

Why I Can’t Write a Story About My Father’s Business

Some things are best left unsaid

My father and mother, early 1950s

My oldest sister (Sarah Ouellet here) wants me to write about my father’s business.

I can give you the parts that might be spun into an interesting story, but I am not going to tell that story. Not all of it, anyway.

My problem is that I was part of the story. I knew and know many of the people involved with the company. I know the funny parts, sure, the good parts. But I know much more, and I do not want to write about those things.

Many of the people involved are dead: 1956 was a long time ago, and parts of that business were not conducive to good health. And as in any group of people, there were good people and bad, and some who were both.

I don’t want to be dishonest, but I don’t want to write about the bad. So, I’m not going to even try to make this a story. What follows is just fact, some conjecture, and a few memories.

Howard Johnson’s

My dad and a partner, Art Atkinson, started Atkinson & Lawrence in a rented booth at the Howard Johnson’s restaurant that was at the rest stop on Rte 128 in Lexington, MA.