Giants Stadium

I can say that I have attended football games on two occasions since Giants Stadium opened in 1976, both times in 1976 and very early in the season. The NY Football Giants were dreadful that year and the second time I saw them we left early enough in the second half to be home in time to watch the end of the game on TV.

Since that inaugural season I have avidly followed my team no matter where I have lived in these United States, but never felt the urge to go tailgate and attend another game. The thought of tailgating in the exhaust fumes of the Giants Stadium parking lot never appealed to, though I am sure I would have had a good time.

I don't have any plans to visit the new Giants/Jets stadium being opened next year either, unless some bit of serendipity comes my way and a ticket is handed to me for free. This might happen sooner than I think since the Giants still have a load of tickets to sell.

As of March 2009:

"The Giants said Thursday that they had sold more than 70,000 personal seat licenses at the 82,500-seat stadium they are building with the Jets. The remaining unsold P.S.L.’s are in the high-priced club areas, where they cost $7,500 to $20,000 each."

This is for a franchise where the wait for season tickets used to be measured in years (133,000 people), though without the Personal Seat Licenses (PSL) to make them a true financial burden. As a bit of background, one buys the right (PSL) to then purchase the tickets for an entire season, plus boring pre-season games. One can later sell this PSL if they can find someone to take it off their hands. It all sounds like a scam to me and since I have always preferred the warmth of my living room to a frozen metal chair this is no loss in my book.

I am certain the new Giants/Jets Stadium will be a magnificent place to watch a football game. Though the wretched excess of the size of the place and the incredible PSL fees will no doubt curb my enthusiasm for a visit for many years to come.

Milo Okkema

I hadn't thought about Milo Okkema for a long time when I saw the recent obituary for Paul Samuelson. You see Mr Okkema used the classic Samuelson Economics textbook for an experimental class in Economics he taught at RHS in 1974-75. My brother came home from college one time and noticed me reading this tome and he said it was the same textbook being used at the University of Pennsylvania, and no doubt hundreds of other institutions. This observation made me feel good about taking such a demanding class as a 10th grader, with mostly Juniors and Seniors as my classmates.

Mr Okkema was a great teacher, not only because he was so demanding and expected plenty from everybody. He was a great teacher because he prepared himself so well and gave us very precise and detailed study guides for his exams. He was a thrifty sort and would type on the edges of the "ditto" sheets he would provide for every class. You would easily remember these if you were blindfolded and a fresh one was waved in front of your nose.

Mr Okkema produced vast loyalty among his students, especially those who could see they were being instructed by a man whose mind was sharp as a tack. He also would illicit great scorn by those who were afraid or didn't want to be challenged intellectually. These poor souls would taunt him behind his back and were incapable of seeing how lucky there were.

As for myself, I went along for the ride and when I left at the end of the year with a "B" for my efforts I knew I had been taught economics by an expert. And as it turned out I ended up with a college degree in Economics. Though sad to say I never had as memorable professor as Milo Okkema, nor one who has inspired a page in his memory on FaceBook

Snow Days

When we were growing up Snow Days were eagerly anticipated events. Before the Internet and our current instantaneous communication we literally had to listen to the AM radio to know whether our school system had been closed.

My Mom was always the first one awake in our house so she would switch on the little radio in the kitchen to begin the arduous process of listening for the status of the Ridgewood schools. My brothers and I would eventually shamble down from our warm beds to the kitchen to join her by the radio. We would all keep very quiet for fear of missing our school in the list of schools which was continually being updated and endlessly repeated.

Once the news was announced then a small celebration would begin and our minds would be filled with the wonder of how we would fill the hours in the day which had just been given to us.

My Dad on the other hand knew exactly how our day would begin: by shoveling our walk and driveway. This had to be done, whether we had a snow day or not, by the time he was ready to walk to the train station for his commute into Manhattan. There was no use pleading to him that nobody else had done their walks by 7:15 AM and that he would have to wade through the snow in front of their houses. He would just look at us and point to the door. He was a lawyer in those days and on these matters he was the judge and jury, too.

December in the Northeast

We had a dusting of snow today with more on the way tonight and tomorrow. It gives me pause to think about snow days and sledding on the hills at Willard School. After the first run it was easy but that first ride was always an adventure, fraught with peril which delighted us no matter how cold we were feeling.

A good snow also meant snowball fights. These were usually harmless but we always participated with our parents' voices of caution in the backs of our minds. I never saw much more than a bloody nose in any of the "fights" I watched or participated in as a kid. Even the years with heavy snows which had consecutive hours of fights, and many armed camps of grade school children battling each other. The most intense were held when I was in the 4th grade and we teamed with the 6th grade against the 5th grade. The guys in the 5th grade that year (class of 1976) were a tough bunch who didn't care who they were fighting. This is not to impune the toughness of the 6th graders, only to point out that the 5th grade that year was always ready for a good snowball fight.

When we were not fighting there was always the much appreciated art of building a snow fort. These sometimes lasted for days, and were sometimes sacrificed in a dispute with a rival group, or simply demolished for fun. It all depended upon the mood at the moment and the need to get back inside to warm up.

Snow lastly meant in the 1960's, before the ubiquitous presence of snowblowers, making some money by shoveling neighbor's walks and driveways. This was easy money if the snow hadn't turned to ice, but it was hard work if the temperature dropped. The people who couldn't shovel usually didn't know the difference between ice and snow since they most likely hadn't left their homes that day. They always bargained hard, and since we usually didn't state a price before we started, the bitter cold days always worked to their advantage.

Truth be told in my younger days, making top dollar was not our ultimate goal. The goal was to complete the transaction, grab the money, and go spend it. Sorry if this sounds unsophisticated, but clearly we were and we didn't ever stop to think about it. These facts make these reminiscences all the more memorable. I will personally never look back in anger at these business mistakes, to quote Yeats, "when I am old an grey and full of sleep and nodding by the fire." I chalk it all up to experience and to a simpler time in America.

RHS Class of 1976 35th Reunion

According to the RHS Class of 1976 Facebook site:

"Due to an overwhelming demand, we are holding our 35th Year Reunion in July 2011."

Cesca and Penny

Here is a photo of two of the brightest and funniest women I knew at RHS circa 1977.

New Traditions

I visited Ridgewood yesterday with the sole intention of purchasing a Christmas tree for our apartment in Queens. Yes, I could have bought something locally but the desire to see the trees on sale at the YMCA pulled me back to Jersey.

We used to buy our trees either at the Y or at the Paramus Reformed Church. I didn't see anything on the Internet regarding a tree sale at the church so I went to the Y straight off. When I arrived it dawned on me how much expansion and change had taken place at the Y since I had last been inside over 30 years ago. While I am sure the change was for the best it was not what I was looking for or the kind of trip down memory lane of which I am fond. I was looking to recall those family trips to pick out our tree, and then hauling it back home in our station wagon. It was a right of the season and something which we all enjoyed. The new layout at the Y was lacking something I can't put my finger on, and it sent me instead to the Farm stand at the corner Ridgewood Avenue and Paramus Road. It hasn't changed much since it opened for business in 1948, and is still offering the Frasier Fir Christmas trees and wreaths I was looking to purchase.

The smell of a fresh Frasier Fir tree is something that the tree manufacturers will never be able to duplicate. It fills a room with an air that is both refreshing and comforting at the same time.

Now that I have a Ridgewood tree and wreath decorating our apartment, we will slowly start collecting ornaments and decorations. This time honored tradition dovetails nicely with our new tradition to mark the holiday season.