Trick or Treat

The last time I went out to Trick or Treat I was in the 8th grade. By that time it was a toss-up as to whether this tradition ought to be left to younger children. By the following year it was a no-brainer and all one had to do was walk down the hall at school and ask whether someone was going out tonight and the answer came back in the negative 100% of the time. It wasn't that the treats weren't good, only that our size and supposedly growing maturity made going out in a costume somewhat embarrassing. Our relative lack of enthusiasm for the phrase, Trick or Treat, also helped make the decision easy for us. Today I wouldn't dream of putting on a costume and Trick or Treating, or even going to a Halloween party. I have left those traditions behind and know that new generations will gladly pick up the torch and see them continued. Though I know most people do not share my opinion on this matter, and Halloween has become a huge holiday for adults. To each his own I say and have a scary good time! I wouldn't dream of bursting your bubble and tarnishing your memories of childhood marches through your neighborhood with a bag ready to burst with candy. Nor would I want to dissuade you from attending grown-up parties where all the attendees come in costume. These gatherings are harmless enough and produce good memories which linger. Just please don't expect to see me out and about in a costume. My days of dressing up as a hobo are long past and might appear politically incorrect these days. But a hobo was not a slap at anyone when I was younger. In fact, it was an homage to a life style from the last decades of the 19th century in our country. Hobos were workers who wandered. All we had to do in order to dress like a hobo was put some charcoal on our hands and faces, where some old clothes and stuff some leaves in our pockets. It was a fast and easy costume which was readily recognized by people when we rang their door bells and shouted our in unison, Trick or Treat. Have fun tonight.

Edward S. Hallahan

These type mentions about life-long Ridgewood residents who go on to work for the village and then retire always give me pause for thought on how much things have changed since I was a boy growing up. I've noted before about the intangible richness a town receives when multiple generations inhabit a village. It gives young and old alike an idea of how the other half lives and makes for an environment of understanding and compassion. When you are young and only see other young people on a daily basis you are missing the tell tale signs of one of Life's great lessons regarding aging. When you are young and see all ages of people everyday then you are more cognizant of what the future might bestow upon you and your family's lives.

Edward S. Hallahan, 85, died on Oct. 23.

He was a life-long resident of Ridgewood and graduated from Paterson State College. He joined the Ridgewood Fire Department in 1950, retiring in 1980. He was a naval veteran of World War II, a member of FMBA Local 47 and NJ State Local 500 and a member of Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church, where he served many years as an usher.

He is survived by his wife, Dorothy (Stack) of Ridgewood; his children, Edward F. Hallahan and wife Debra of Leesburg, Va., Mary T. and husband Thomas Mayer of Romansville, Pa. and Nancy E. and husband John Kendzulak of Flemington; and his grandchildren, Caitlin, Michael, Tatiana and Alexandra.

A funeral Mass was celebrated on Oct. 26 at Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church in Ridgewood.

Silent Ball

The teachers we had at Willard were a clever, hard working bunch. Though the prize for sharpest tool in the shed certainly belongs, in my opinion, to the person who invented silent ball. Truth be told it likely didn't originate at Willard so it didn't really take a genius to import it into our classrooms. It was the saving grace for many a teacher's sanity on a cold or rainy day when we couldn't go outside to blow off some steam in the schoolyard or the gym. If you recall, everyone sat on their desk tops and were not allowed to move off them or say a word while a ball made of yarn was passed or thrown around the room. A bad throw or a dropped pass and you had to sit in your chair. This went on until one person was left and the teacher had been given a half hour respite of the usual din which emanated from normal elementary school classrooms. Looking back it was a counter intuitive act as the game of keeping silent and staying in one place actually burned up some of the stores of energy we had in abundance. The game was largely self-governing as a spoken word meant you were out and the teacher didn't need to be judge and jury, as one's peers in the games kept everything in line. Yes, it's easy now to see how a simple yarn ball could have such a powerful calming influence on a room of growing children. Though at the time we weren't on to the true story of how teachers could need quiet and a moment to reflect on their next lesson, or might simply have a headache and a few minutes of silence was all they were asking for to see them through the day.

Robey aka Jeff Scott Roberson

Robey is too cool for words as he combines family life, musicianship, baking, and gardening. Glad he is a member of the RHS Alumni All-Star Band also, and has agreed to play at next summer's Music Fest 2013. Site to TBA but we are pretty solid on the date: Saturday July 20th 2013. Stay tuned. Check this link for a review of Robey's latest CD: My So Called Cool Parade

One Big Cohesive Society.

We no longer live in one big cohesive society. Now this is not to suggest that by growing up in Ridgewood in the 1960s and 70s we comprised one big cohesive group. More to the point it was many small cohesive groups. Though in sum they appeared as one because the differences were slight and based more on geography than opinions or culture.

We all had the same news sources, whether they were the TV or newspapers or radio. No barriers existed which excluded anyone from turning on their TV sets or radios and hearing the same news as everyone else. Newspapers were subscribed to and delivered, usually by young boys on bicycles who would also make the rounds and collect the subscription fees.

These communication methods same rather quaint now, especially since parents today would likely not allow their children to go out collecting cash from their paper route customers, nor would large corporations concerned about liability costs want them doing this work either. The radio is much less democratic too with the options of satellite radio and its monthly fees making free terrestrial radio, as its called today, something of a non-entity, except for Sports Talk and Business News. Top 40 songs? we get those off of YouTube or download them one at a time at the I-Store. Nobody drives around waiting for their favorite tune to be played by Cousin Brucie every hour on the hour. Cable Television and DVR recorders have made TV something that doesn't need to be watched in real time any longer. We might still talk about last night's game or popular show the next day around the water cooler but there is no guarantee that we watched it "live" or didn't fast forward through the commercials.

What has the plethora of choices given us? Leaving aside whether or not it is better, can say it is simply very different and much more individualistic. The ties the bind now have to be cultivated in different ways. Whereas we might have volunteered for a paper drive and gone around the neighborhood in station wagons picking up bundles from people's garages and basements, today in Ridgewood public service is a mandatory part of the school curriculum. So there are less spontaneous acts and more prescribed. This falls in line with the more structured lives children have these days and the fact they spend less time outside just playing around and figuring things out. There once was a time when asking the question, "What do you want to do?" might be met with a blank stare or an, "I don't know, what do you want to do?". Today's multitude of choices seemingly has eliminated boredom and the number of valid choices is much more appealing than our climbing trees, going down to a pond to try and catch some wildlife, or walking in the woods. These latter choices require both physical exertion, leaving the comfortable surroundings of home, as well as a curiosity which is more deeply ingrained than simply being curious about making it to the next level on a video game or endlessly texting one's friends about what happened at school today.

Can we or will we ever go back to anything which resembles the society where cohesion was the mainstay? Hard to say and harder still to want to repeat history's mistakes like the racism, prejudice, and intolerance inherent in the earlier era of which I speak. I will say I like the potential of our current age and remain optimistic about our future. Let's just say I wish kids would get outside a little more often and pause to wonder as what they ought to do. They don't realize that video games can be played forever but a crisp autumn Saturday afternoon comes much less often and they will rue not having seen more of them when they get to be my age.

The Corner Store

There once was a time when the Corner Store on Glen Avenue offered fresh cut meats. I believe the owner at the time was a professional meat cutter and kept an abundant meat cooler in the back of the store.

Today this would be regarded as a culinary delight by the residents of Ridgewood and Midland Park. The high quality meats and the closeness of the store would have surley enticed many people from the neighborhood used to paying top dollar for fine meats. In the 1960s and 1970s an energetic meat seller might have been able to make a go of the Corner Store. Though as time went on and his energy faded and he sold the store the idea of local meats couldn't compete with the supermarkets. I can recall four A&Ps in our immediate town which could easily undercut the prices of a corner store. Yes, we had to drive to them and we didn't recognize the meat cutters who prepared are meats but the prices couldn't be beat and we could get everything we needed in a single trip.

I often asked my Mom why she didn't buy more from the Corner Store. The answer was always the same, that the Corner Store was more expensive. Little did I know my parents were scrimping and saving to put three boys through prep school and college. The pennies added up and they did eventually send my brothers to prep school and all three of us to college and graduate school.

I passed the Corner Store last week. They now deliver pizza.

Writing About The Past

It dawned on me recently that I have spurts of remembrance about growing up and then I have periods when I can't remember a thing. Not to worry, I feel this is the natural reaction of all the work we put in and the experiences we all had at our 35th Reunion this past summer.

Now we are in October and the weather is cooler and perfect for those touch football games we used to have on the dirt field at Willard or at "Fireman's Field" next to the Corner Store and Ridgewood firehouse on Glen Avenue.

Today I can easily recall fingers which were bent in unnatural ways and stayed sore and swollen for many months after a touchdown catch. We had no touchdown dances in those days and I am sure if one of us had been so bold as to do a dance they would have been mocked or given a block that they were not expecting which landed them on their back. It wasn't that a touchdown was unimportant, only that making the opposing team look bad after a score was something we didn't contemplate. This likely was because we changed teams faster than today's NFL players do,  even when it seems that professional players in all sports  change teams every year. We knew all too well that we changed teams two or three times every sunny Autumn afternoon and couldn't be aggravating our future teammates. I am always amazed that today's players have so little regard for the feelings of their opponents. One who had played the game for a while would seemingly understand how badly it feels to be scored upon. I guess because we played both offense and defense we felt these slights all the more.

I miss those games and cool afternoons from so long ago. The sore finger are just minor annoyances that healed quicker than they do now at my age. I think it is these small injuries that keeps me on the sidelines. I know that I don't have the time to heal that I once did, or even half the patience.