A supporter of the Massaro Farm recounts fond memories for us of how it used to be growing up around the farm:
“… I remember Tony sending us kids to the back line to bring up the cows (with only a stick and directions about what to yell) for milking at the end of the day. He would have us help in hooking up the cows, the collection tank process, scraping down the stalls, etc. and encouraged us to groom the cows (as well as delivering me a squirt in the face). Tony never let us near the bull, and was remarkably fond of the multitude of stray cats who lived in the garage.
He treated us with a lot of respect and without supervision even though some of us were very young. Likewise, he would send us off to collect and weigh eggs for him and explained the coop rotation but never asked that we round up the hens on their last day. I suspect he had the older ones in the neighborhood assist at those times. As well, I think the older boys may have helped out with hay. I can remember having freedom to roam the property (particularly the frog pond), help out if we wanted or not, and never seemed to become angry or intolerant.
In fact, the farm was always my first stop on Halloween because they gave good stuff out. Mrs. Massaro was patient and kind just like her sons while she was alive and I remember how much my mother enjoyed speaking about her. Her grape vines and roses were off limits. There had to be dozens and dozens of different kids from all over the hilltop that spent time at the farm who maybe, like me, look back fondly at this time as a rarity never to be repeated by their own children. “


