Wheat Back Pennies

     For as long as I can remember my brothers and I collected coins. My Dad's Mom got us started at a young age with Lincoln Head Set Penny Collections and later with Jefferson Nickels and "Mercury" Head Dimes.

      I still have all my collections though I confess to not being very diligent these days in keeping them up to date, with one exception: the Lincoln Wheat Cent or Wheatie as we used to call them. They turn up every once and a while in my change and each night as I empty my pockets I check for Wheaties. It's a habit I suppose and the kind of gentle reminder of simpler days which I appreciate. Probably this thrifty habit is in my Scottish DNA and just can't be helped. To tell the truth I am actually glad for it because it keeps me conscious of how hard it is to earn money, let alone save it. I don't consider it cheapness but only an awareness of the consequences of not having a tidy sum in reserve. I pity people who call themselves "cheapskates" because they tend to feel guilty all too often regarding some of life's pleasures, especially those which are worth paying a premium for. A nice meal in a NYC restaurant with friends who appreciate fine dining comes to mind as an indulgence which I budget for and enjoy no end.

      We all have our own pecuniary habits. For me, all it takes is the site of a Wheatie to make me become conscious of the origins of how I first learned about money. Admittedly, my subsequent uses of money might not have always been as prudent as collecting coins in Whitman Publishing coin folders. Though I did manage to save the original books and their insights are part of my wakefulness and dictate my usual response to a penny laying on the sidewalk. Without a hesitation I grab it before some other thrifty guy like me to come along and beats me to it. One never knows where they might find a Wheatie to add to their collection.

Vote For Preserving Graydon

      This blog endorses Bernadette Coghlan-Walsh and Thomas M. Riche for Ridgewood Town Council. The election is Tuesday May 11th and the voting booths will be open from 6:00AM to 8:00PM.

      There are four reasons to support keeping a sandy bottom at Graydon Pool. These can be summarized based upon Geology, Economics, Aesthetics, and the Law.

1. Geology: Ridgewood is built on a floodplain. Graydon has always been a huge storage area for flood waters. It must be kept free of encroachments that might block flood flows or restrict storage of flood waters. The concrete pool supporters either don't understand, because they haven't lived in Ridgewood long enough to see a flood, or it's something they are hoping they will never live to see.


2. Economics: The current configuration of Graydon is not making enough money to be self-supporting. To believe that a concrete bottom design would make money stretches the realms of credibility. Where are the paying customers going to come from? How high can badge fees be raised in a Recession to support the bonds needed to build a concrete pool?

3. Aesthetics: Graydon is a beautifully designed, tranquil setting in an otherwise bustling little community. Hard to see how the concrete proposal would improve upon this natural oasis that has been enjoyed for generations.

4. Law: While I am not a lawyer I do know that the land on which Graydon sits was willed to the Village of Ridgewood. There will no doubt be a legal challenge to any proposal which tries to change the intent of the original will that Graydon be a park. We might as well save ourselves time and money because both sides on this issue can afford the lawyers to keep this one in the courts for a long time.

ZIP Codes

      It's hard to remember a time when we didn't need ZIP codes on our letters and packages. Though I dare say it compares with the 19th century creation of the Dewey Decimal System as one of the 20th century's best ideas for organizing the job of delivery into a specific and repeatable process. The ZIP will be in use long into this century as it is now translated into what is called Postnet and printed on mailpieces for use by automated sorting machines. Some further history from our pals at Wikipedia:

     The ZIP code is the system of postal codes used by the United States Postal Service (USPS) since 1963. The letters ZIP, an acronym for Zone Improvement Plan. In 1967, these were made mandatory for second- and third-class bulk mailers, and the system was soon adopted generally.

       My hunch is that most people who grew up in Ridgewood still remember the village's ZIP codes as 07450. Though given the transient nature of people now I suspect these same folks would be hard pressed to name all the other towns ZIP codes they have lived in. For myself, I can remember my college town's ZIP and the one we had when we had a home on Hilton Head Island. All the rest of my way stops have long ago been erased from my memory or were changed to make any memory of them superfluous.

Stuff We Wished We Had Kept

     Everyone has some possession from their youth which they wished they had kept for posterity. The classic one for guys from the 1960s and 1970s would be their baseball cards. These were items which were purchased five cards to a pack at places like the Corner Store for a nickel and included a stick of gum. I actually still have some of these cards and have been giving them away as gifts for years now. I have encased each one in a plastic holder so they maintain their shape and value. Lucky for me these cards give me the same joy whether I still possess them or not. There is something about knowing you have given someone a good gift that stays with you forever. 

       One thing I didn't save even though I carried them around for years were my record albums. I started collecting them in 1973. My first purchases were Paul Simon's There Goes Rhymin' Simon, The Allman Brothers' Brothers and Sisters, Grand Funk's We're An American Band, and Don McLean's American Pie. They all made it into the 21st century even though I had nothing to play them on but didn't survive my last move into New York City in 2002. It makes me slightly nostalgic now to see turntables for LPs with USB connections, but the site of these modern marvels don't cause me any regrets. The albums served their purpose and were mostly dust collectors in the end, many were warped and scratched. The artwork on the album covers themselves was the last redeeming feature these old LPs possessed.


     I suppose I am not much of a hoarder or else I would be able to rattle off more stuff that I did keep. A quick look around my office and I spy the first Bible given to me by the Upper Ridgewood Community Church, my high school Yearbook, some photo albums, and a Sportsman flashlight. They are all next to one another on a shelf, as if to neatly remind me of stuff I'm glad I kept.

The Search For Meaning

     As of late when I have had time to ponder my roots I've been using an old copy of the Ridgewood Yellow Book, circa 1975 as a point of reference. It's a little more than 400 pages and contains both the Yellow and White pages of this era and includes the towns of Glen Rock, Ho-Ho-Kus, Franklin Lakes, Waldwick, Saddle River, Midland Park, and Wyckoff. I somehow doubt this same feat could be accomplished today in 400 pages, and I also think people are so programmed to use the Internet that even possessing a Yellow Pages means you like doing things the old fashioned way or don't feel comfortable using the Internet. I consider myself old fashion in some ways but I don't let phone books gather dust in my home any longer.

      While it is true most of the names in my reference have become irrelevant over time there are a surprising number of names I find that still live in the same place some 35 years later.  It makes me feel good to look again at numbers that I once knew by heart because I had dialed them so often. The Warner Theatre, by the way, is still 444-1234.

      My Yellow Book is filled with reminders of how it pays to advertise. Back in 1975 it was taken as a matter of course that a business would take out an ad in the Yellow Pages. Now this is not a certainty, and given the number of different Yellow Books available a potentially costly exercise in Marketing.

      I'd say the biggest difference, besides the overall size, is what wasn't being advertised in 1975 that we now come to expect. By this I mean there are only a hand full of restaurants, and Mama Rosa's Pizza and Renatos are the only two familiar names remaining. The other surprising thing was the number of gas stations which were located in the center of town. Now you have one or two service stations, if my memory serves, and more restaurants than you could possible patronize in a month or two. Though in the case of restaurants we live in an age of eating out so I'm sure some people could probably cover the gamut a bit faster than I'm suggesting.

Storytelling

     It's been said that storytelling is the best protection against forgetting. In our digital age where Google forgets nothing the stories and notices posted to this blog will likely last as long as we do as a civilization. This daunting idea actually inspires me to make the postings as meaningful as I can given the limitations of time and my talents. I may not hit the mark every time but my modest efforts do give me some satisfaction and occasionally hit their mark in ways I can't predict but appreciate just the same. 

      The most recent example was the sharing of my memories of shopping at Perdue's Sport Shop and posting it the same morning on which Walt Perdue passed away quietly in Anna Maria, Florida. It was only the next day when his daughter emailed me that I learned the connection between the events. I was glad they had been able to find and read my story during their time of sorrow, if only to take their minds off their grieving for a moment and to let their thoughts linger around a more cheerful set of circumstances. Maybe all the future postings here won't resonate so loudly in people's hearts and minds, but that will be the aim. I trust that people will let me know when something written here touches their heart or peaks their interest. The stories I collect here are important enough to reside on the Internet for eternity.  I just hope they can accurately depict the people and places which prompted me to write them down in the first place.

RIP Jack Elwood

     Jack Elwood was both my Driver's Education Instructor and my Track Coach. The lessons he taught me regarding driving I still employ today and for those techniques I am grateful to him.  Here is a video shot during the 5K Walk/Run they held in his honor in 2007:

 


Here is the obituary:

Jack Elwood, a much-loved Ridgewood High School (RHS) physical education teacher battling Lou Gehrig’s disease, died on Sunday. He was 59.
Students at Ridgewood High School observed a moment of silence on Monday morning after Elwood’s death was announced.
In May 2003, Elwood was diagnosed with Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, a fatal neuromuscular disease that causes progressive muscle weakness, eventually leading to paralysis. RHS students, coworkers, friends and family held numerous fund-raisers in recent years to help the teacher and his family, including the well-attended annual Jack Elwood 5K Walk/Run. One of the initial fund-raisers was to build a wheelchair ramp at his home in Oakland.
Elwood, who also was assistant manager at Graydon Pool during the summer months, initially remained teaching at RHS in the early stages of the disease, using a wheelchair. At one of the early fund-raisers, Elwood told the crowd that he and his family were overwhelmed by the community’s support.
"More than [the money], it’s your goodwill, the prayers and constant attention that I get. I can’t walk down the hall a day without someone asking me how I’m doing," he said at the event.
Elwood is survived by his wife, Laura, and daughter Tricia.
Visitation will be held at Feeney Funeral Home in Ridgewood on Tuesday, May 4 from 7 to 9 p.m. and Wednesday, May 5 from 2 to 4 and 7 to 9 p.m. A Funeral Mass will be celebrated at 10 a.m. Thursday, May 6 at St. Luke’s R.C. Church in Ho-Ho-Kus.

Here is a Facebook page which was created to honor Jack Elwood.

Perdue's Sport Shop

     The advertisement in the Yellow Pages I possess (circa September 1975) states the Perdue's Sport Shop, besides being Bergen's oldest Pro Shop, was also the place you could buy fishing gear, guns, and ammo. I only mention this because we did patronize Walt Perdue's shop and did in fact buy our guns and ammo from him. Not sure if a store like this still exists in Ridgewood but it wouldn't surprise if they didn't sell guns over at Bernard's, the folks who bought the Perdue name and business a while back. The guns in question were mostly BB guns and one rifle which my older brother and father used to take to the Ridgewood Rifle Club over at 209 Chestnut street.

      We also used to go to Perdue's for the different color baseball caps and iron on letters we required for whatever baseball team we were playing for in the RBA (Ridgewood Baseball Association) Spring league.  

      Perdue's was also famous for the old time car, I believe a Model A which was always parked in front of Perdue's store. Mr Perdue used to drive it in the 4th of July Parade and I believe used it to commute to work. The White Pages of the phone book I am consulting says he lived on Glen Avenue so he didn't have much of a commute. More than likely there wasn't much chance he was going to get stuck in traffic or have to drive the highway. I dare say most men in the community who took the train or bus to work would have gladly swapped rides with him anytime.

      Update 4 May 2010
      This is taken from the tribute paid to Walt Perdue as a member of the RHS Athletic Hall of Fame:

Walt Perdue - Class of 1949

The four-sport athlete was an all-state running back and team co-captain his senior year season when the Maroons had a 6-3 record. He also played defensive back. Perdue capped his career by accounting for 207 of Ridgewood’s 302 yards gained (including two runs of over 60 yards) in the 32-6 Thanksgiving Day victory over Fair Lawn. He scored three touchdowns in the Lodi win.

Perdue played basketball three years, earned two varsity letters in track and one in baseball. He was awarded the RHS Award for Excellence in Athletics in 1949 and also the 18th annual High Y Award. He was offered several scholarships. He sandwiched a stint in the Marine Corps in his college years at Lehigh, playing football in college. He owned Perdue’s Sport Shop in Ridgewood for a number of years.

Bill Lyons Campus Shoe Store

     The first thing you saw when you walked into the Bill Lyons Campus Shoe Store on East Ridgewood Avenue was the fish tank. It was strategically placed, I believe, to grab child's attention while their mother had a chance to check the styles and prices of shoes available. This was another of those old time Ridgewood stores where they recognized you when you came in and they would gladly send you a bill at the end of the month for your day's purchases. No credit cards in this establishment that I can recall. There existed a trust between the proprietor and his customers that extended in my case through my high school years when I could walk in without my mother and still be able to charge a pair of shoes no questions asked. This type of service is long gone in most towns like Ridgewood, sacrificed in order to keep costs under control to compete with the big retailers in the mails. Customer service is expensive to maintain and takes a long time to establish. When you are competing with companies which employ people with little training and at low wages the store proprietor whose motto is "Where Fit Is Important" is at an extreme disadvantage. It is one of Life's ironies: we all like low prices and we all like prompt and courteous customer service, but the two do not always go hand in hand. It takes a skilled retailer who can unabashed tell a customer how the price reflects the value being added by their interaction with store employees. If you add in the ability to shop on the Internet you have an even harder time convincing someone that face-to-face customer service isn't a relic from the previous century.

Mac Hughs Inc. Clothing Store

      A rite of each school year while growing up was a trip to Mac Hughs to buy some new cloths to replace the previous year's school cloths which were either too small or in disrepair. First the Mac Hugh store was in downtown Ridgewood and later they would build their own much larger location across from the Duck Pond. The amazing part were the salesmen who would remember us by face and welcome us back each year. It was even possible to develop favorites among the salesmen since these guys remained at their jobs year in and year out. This was my introduction to what "Customer Service" is all about and to this day Mac Hughs remains a touchstone which I use to discern the relative merit of whatever establishment I patronize. Very few have ever come close to the professionalism and civility which used to be offered by Mac Hughs.

      As times changed and I moved away from Ridgewood my taste in clothing changed to Brooks Brothers and I never returned to Mac Hughs. It's a shame because as I have subsequently learned through experience it is worth the time and effort to go out of your way to receive the kind of attention which the guys at Mac Hughs used to lavish on us. This is true for most things but especially important when it comes to a sense of style in clothing.

      And who can forget the Lucky Bucks we received with each purchase? These could be traded in for various build-them-yourself model kits of cars, boats, and aircraft. Mac Hughs was certainly ahead of its time in knowing that if they could convince children to shop at Mac Hughs by simply rewarding them with the modern day equivalent of the McDonald's Happy Meal, they would build a thriving business via the repeat customers. It certainly worked for a good long time and last I heard the owners retired to Vermont. The Mac Hughs building is now a bank with offices for rent, where kids once used to try on the latest cloths and Lucky Bucks were the coin of the realm.

Innocence and Experience

      Everyone loses their childhood innocence at one time or another, either gradually through the normal course of growing up, or all at once as the result of an unforeseen trauma and disturbance. I count myself lucky to be part of the former group.

      The events I recall which gradually stripped away the vestiges of my innocence and made me come of age:

1. April 4th 1968 when Martin Luther King was assassinated in Memphis, TN;
2. May 4th 1970 when the shootings took place at Kent State University in Ohio;
3. August 8th 1974 when Richard Nixon resigned as President;
4. April 30th 1975 when Saigon fell and the North Vietnamese took control;
5. June, 1977 when I graduated from Ridgewood High School;
6. June 1978 when my family moved from Ridgewood into Manhattan.

      These events forced me to re-evaluate my untainted, youthful ideas of Life and made me start to realize what the world is really like. Everyone can rightly name their own but these were the ones which stick out in my mind. These events provided me with experiences which hopefully have not made me grow too pessimistic.  There is much to see in terms of joy and wonder in our world. A person like myself only needs to remember the fact that others have been given much harsher introductions to adulthood and have trouble recollecting anything at all which they would care to reminisce about. I am lucky to have been spared such trauma and to feel grateful for my childhood memories.

Graydon Pool Lifeguards

       My pal Kurt created a page on Facebook dedicated to lifeguards who worked at Graydon Pool. Kurt is from the old school of lifeguards, when there were thousands more badge holders than today, before there was an iron fence ringing the pool, and when the guards, in particular his father, knew it was ultimately up to them to maintain order at the pool.

      To say it was different in the 1960s and 1970s than it is today would be an understatement. Back then swimming pools were a novelty, as was central air conditioning, so you had to go to Graydon Pool or the Jersey shore to cool off. "The Pool" or simply "Graydon" was a commons in the traditional sense of the word. It was an environment we all shared in Ridgewood, that no one owned but everyone could enjoy. Graydon was held in trust, and still is, for the current generation as well as future ones. By the very nature of its wide open layout and the fact it was a shared resource it helped promote the idea that we are all part of the same community.

       I'm currently not sure if we can get this shared feeling for Graydon back, even if they construct a concrete bottom for the pool and figure out a way to make it pay for itself. It's not that we don't need a commons any longer. We will always need symbols which promote aspects of our cultural heritage in order to help secure our mutual cooperation in the long-term. The problem here as I see it is we simply don't use Graydon to communicate among ourselves the way we used to do it. We will need a solution which combines the best aspects of Graydon's past with a new purpose which the current generation will understand and thrive within. I believe it behooves us all to re-think the purpose of Graydon and find a way to maintain its central place in Ridgewood for this generation as well as future ones. Graydon Pool is now a beautiful symbol of a bygone era and it would be shame not to give it some deep reflection before we change it irreparably or close it all together.

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Ridgewood-Graydon-Guards/111923052178143?v=wall&ref=ts

Sweets and Confections

     There was a unspoken tradition among my brothers and I that no pie my mother made every made it past breakfast. It was first come first serve and the pie would be gone, and usually one person did all the damage.

      When I think about and all the candy I ate as a youth it is surprising I was not overweight or afflicted with juvenile diabetes.  I was probably lucky and also living in an era where we burned off on a daily basis all the sugar we consumed.

      As far as pies my favorite has always been pumpkin with whipped cream on top. This was usually associated with Thanksgiving meals but we often insisted having it on other nights when my Mom was baking. Next came cherry, blueberry, and apple, in that order.

     As far as candy I was a Sweet Tart and Milk Dud man, after having grown out of a childhood fascination with Pixie Sticks. Amazing as it might sound for someone from my generation but I never liked bazooka bubble gum and never learned how to blow a proper bubble. Not even the Bazooka Joe comics each piece contained or the act of saving the wrappers in order to mail them away for a prize could change my mind. I did chew a fair amount of other sugary gums, especially that stick which came with a 5 cent pack of Topps Baseball cards. Though I eventually stopped collecting cards and heeded the warning from my dentist and switched to sugarfree gum.

      My tastes have matured as I have grown older but I still love sweets. Though now I am the one who makes them, with my favorites being English Trifle and various types of fruit pies and tarts. Pumpkin still remains my favorite and it always makes me nostalgic. I like to silently reminisce about those first ones I ate after a big Thanksgiving meal in Ridgewood. Also, to show times haven't changed too much I am not above having a piece of my homemade pie for breakfast the next time. Why change a fine tradition?

Sony TR-63 Transistor Radio

     Like many kids growing up in the 1960s who loved baseball but who had a bedtime which prohibited staying up to watch a game that might be broadcast on TV, I often feel asleep with a transistor radio on my pillow, not knowing how the came ended until I read about it in the New York Times the next morning. My parents would come in and turn my radio off when they were ready for bed.

      I listened to baseball games whenever I could and even listened to games which were re-created for the radio audience. I knew the game had already been played but I was so hungry for baseball news that I didn't care.

      When baseball season was over there was 77 WABC with Cousin Bruce Morrow to keep me company before falling asleep. It's nice to know he still plays the airwaves via Satellite Radio and continues to call everyone cousin. He has a rapport with his listeners which most DJs of our day don't have the time or freedom to cultivate. It didn't matter that his play list of songs was short. We turned him on because of his familiar, friendly voice. His warmth and charisma came through loud and clear, even on a tiny little Sony transistor radio with the volume just barely on so our parents wouldn't hear it and decide to come in and turn it off for the night.

The Black Rotary Phone

     Hard to imagine a time when phones like this venerable Model 500 made by Western Electric occupied prime real locations in everybody's home. We had this model upstairs and it had a cable long enough so that it could be moved between my Dad's study and the hallway outside the master bedroom. We also had a white rotary in the kitchen which was hung on the wall. This had both a limited length handset cable and no easy means for moving it, which meant if you were taking a call in the kitchen you had no privacy at all.

      I dare say when current and future generations look back on our phones from this era they will wonder how we did it. They will wonder about the lack of portability, ring tones, colors, and the fact most houses had a single phone number. And who can forget being on the phone and having somebody mistakenly pick up the phone in the other part of the house and then have to quickly apologize for interrupting the conversation? These sort of things just don't happen anymore. Now we have people who sit in the same room and text one another in order to communicate. I wonder if that is progress?

      I do like all of our new phones and all the tasks like email and searching the web which they are capable of accomplishing. Though I would one day like a working replica Model 500 phone in my future home. It would have to be able to perform the digital tasks required by our modern phones because the phone company as a rule doesn't install rotary phones any longer. I am sure there are some still out there but they are slowly but surely being replaced. My wish for a rotary phone is entirely an aesthetic choice, not that they were pleasing to look at only that I am old school and having one would match my style.

       This is from Wikipedia:

"Originally, the 500 was available only in black and had a rotary dial with a black-painted metal fingerwheel (black remained the most popular color throughout the model's production,[citation needed] and the Model 500 has been affectionately nicknamed by some as "the black brick"[citation needed]). Within a few years the Model 500 was available in a variety of colors, and the metal finger wheel was replaced with a clear plastic rotary dial, by about 1964."

Monetizing the Ephemeral Joys of Childhood

      As some of you may know, I have been in the Information Technology business since the early 1990s. With this much experience you would be correct that I have seen many trends come and go. I have also built up a fair reservoir of knowledge about the nuts and bolts of how the Internet works and how it can be made more secure.

      Though with all this knowledge I still don't understand the intricacies of how companies like Google make money selling ads on the Internet. To try and fill this gap in my knowledge I accepted an offer from Amazon to monetize this blog.

       Here is what Amazon says about this new integration with Blogger:

Once the service is enabled, you can either create a new Amazon Associate account or link an existing account. Then when you go to write a blog post, an Amazon box will appear on the right side of the screen. You can find items on Amazon using the search box, and add them to your blog posts with a single click. You can choose to add just a text-based link, a product image, or a link + product image.

This is going to make it way easier for Blogger users to post affiliate links in their posts, and so there's a pretty good chance we're going to start seeing an explosion of Amazon links on Blogspot sites. If you're worried this is going to lead to an explosion of irrelevant, spammy links, Google is way ahead of you. The blog post announcing the new program points out that "affiliate programs work well when readers trust you," and suggests users avoid posting items simply for the affiliate fees, lest their blogs start to look like they only exist to make money for the author.

      I love the part about how affiliate programs work well when readers trust you. My comeback is, "how much will they trust me in the future when I start inserting ads for Amazon Best Sellers inside posts recalling days gone bt?" How sincere can my postings be, especially ones filled with descriptions of activities we used to cherish but haven't given much thought to as of late? I guess we'll see how it goes and if it just ends up as one more attempt by a writer to sell his soul in order to garner a little attention. Maybe I can keep it more dignified than this and maybe with a little luck I will never be inspired to include an Amazon ad in one of these entries.

      In the end I'll probably just chalk the entire exercise up to research about my chosen profession and if a dollar happens to comes my way I figure out some appropriate use for it.

School Lunches

       I didn't have the option of eating school lunches until I began attending George Washington Junior High School in the autumn of 1971. Until that time I went home like most everyone else at Willard and ate whatever my Mom was offering that particular day. It seems quaint to look back on this time when a stay-at-home Mom would make lunch for her children, and sometimes their friends, too. Some people blame school lunches for the obesity problem we see now with children. They have a point if you consider all the energy we burned during our lunch hour, where now the kids must sit and probably watch TV or play on their computers. It doesn't take a math whiz to calculate the fact that if these same children lived when I grew up then they would be outside much more of the time and burning many more calories than they do now. This is not a slap at these kids in the slightest. They have been dealt a hand and now are being forced to play it, even as the pounds add up at an earlier age. 

     Our school lunches at GW were probably no more nutritious than the ones being served today. Kids then as now could decide for themselves to just eat ice cream and tater tots and throw whatever lunch they brought in the garbage can. The big difference is the seven years of walking home for lunch which I experienced and the children today don't have as an option. This is where the problem lies, and it won't be changed easily because of all the two-earner households we have today. We can't send the kids home to make lunch for themselves so we have to provide lunches in the schools. Here's hoping that we can better educate our kids to make more nutritious choices and save the tater tots for special occasions. English Chef Jamie Oliver has the right idea and if you have a chance to catch his show Food Revolution you will probably become hooked on it like I have. He is literally spending his own cash to promote a campaign to get better food into homes, schools and communities all over America and give our kids a better future. Check it out because I don't see the return of a stay-at-home Mom revolution beginning anytime soon so we better grab what we can and see if we can make it work.

Reconnecting With The Past

     After giving some consideration to all the observations I have gathered these last four years of writing this blog, reading the feedback (privately or publicly conveyed to me) I can categorically say that there is a huge need for remembrance. Even if it is accomplished via a humble blog about growing up in the suburbs of Jersey in the 1960s and 70s. There is a certain psychological wisdom to remembrance. If you need any more proof just take a look at our calendar and you will see that it is filled with days dedicated to this act. We need this time in order to manage the rest of our lives on a daily basis. If we didn't stop and pause once and a while about events long past then our lives would comprise a series of actions done by rote and likely lacking in style or grace. This all begs another question: Should you try to reconnect with your past when you sometimes simply feel overwhelmed just trying to keep up with your present life? In sports lingo, this would be called a "gimme" in my opinion. The answer is most certainly Yes! Of course, reconnect with times long gone and linger in those memories for as long as it is practical. There is no harm remembering a simpler era, like I do with this blog, or in attempting to reaffirm old friendships via the Internet, US Mail, or a simple phone call out of the blue. What is harmful is not making any attempts. Think about things you regret in life, are they mostly things you did or are they things you wished you had said or done? The answer, if you are like most people, is the latter. So go ahead and try to "Friend" people on FaceBook for example. Or use Google and find out someone's possible mailing address or phone number. This is all easier than you might think. Even if you come across someone who just wants to be left alone, at least in your own mind you know you tried. What's more, you still can reflect upon the pleasant memories you once had of this person. You will be the better for it, this I can guarantee. One more thing, if you can supply one jot of writing (you may ask to remain anonymous) which describes our "moments of glad grace" as Yeats would say, then please send them to me, even in their rawest form. I will attempt to give them some shape and hopefully the result will be of use in furthering someone's recollection of a time well spent.

The Corner Store

      It's had countless owners over the last 50 years and more than a few names, but to its customers it was either the "Corner Store" or the Little Store." There truly must be thousands of people who can claim when they walk through its doors today on the corner of Erie Ave and Glen Ave that they can remember patronizing it as a child. Parents would only go there in a pinch as the prices were much higher than in the Supermarkets. This was a lesson lost on most kids until they started earning paychecks themselves and had families of their own to support. 

     Today the Corner Store is the home of Parkwood Catering. It still serves its "Little Store" function for the neighborhood kids but supplements its income with a variety of catering offerings. To show how times have changed, I can't recall ever going to a catered party in Ridgewood, except for the annual Fish n Chips dinners held on Election Day at the Upper Ridgewood Community Church. These weren't exactly catered affairs as the Moms helped out the two paid professional ladies who fried all the fish and fries. The Moms plated everything and volunteer teenagers would act as waiters and waitresses and bring the food to people at the long tables. There was one other paid job: running the dish washer. This was a task no Mom would ever do for an event of this size so they would find a teenager, like myself, to run the machine and stack the dishes at the end of the night. Of course, this work was completed under the supervision of the Moms in attendance who would still be wiping down the counters like they were their own. I did attend plenty of parties while growing up in Ridgewood but it was a Mom or a combination thereof who were the caterers. Little did they know that the next generation of Moms in Ridgewood would come to rely so heavily upon other people to plan and prepare food for their parties. While much can be said for the certainty and uniformity of the food purchased from caterers, you absolutely lost the randomness that always accompanied events with multiple chefs. For instance, no caterer would ever bring a green jello in a mold to an event, but you could usually count on at least one at a block party, open house, or church social event. Names weren't attached to these dishes so in the likely occurrence that they went untouched there was not a lot of embarrassment or complaining to a caterer as to why they would ever make such a dish. No, the social event itself was the matter of chief concern and the fact food was being offered was a bonus. Since there were a lot fewer professional restaurateurs in those days than there are now, the organization of a typical Ridgewood party was shared and everybody attending always politely asked what they could do to help. The division of labor in that era was fairly straightforward: the men liked to hover around the charcoal grills, if it was summertime, and the party was held outside; the women would usually gravitate towards the kitchen to make sure all the food and utensils made it to the appropriate locations. Cleanup was also a communal activity though by the end of the party the hosts were usually so tired they would try and tell people that they would finish the clean up themselves. This I imagine was said in order to expedite their guest's departures. Though the social custom at the time was for the faithful friends to utter cries of "We'll help" and that they would hear no more about the hosts doing it all themselves. I would imagine this was mostly done out of righteous concern for the hosts and partly by the fact that the next party might be their turn to host.

Drawn to a Larger Scale

     When you are growing up in a town like Ridgewood you are usually too young, and no where near reflective enough, to understand why so few people return to raise a family in Ridgewood of their own after they graduate high school. It's easy now to say how expensive it is and that the taxes can only be afforded by the truly wealthy, or at least a two salary family. Since I grew up in a one salary family and am not a person with an old Wall Street salary the idea of settling down in Ridgewood never really crossed my mind. Though there can be plenty of other perfectly fine reasons like wanting to experience life in other parts of the country or the world. Don't get me wrong, Ridgewood is still a nice place to live in and visit, but I put the idea out of my mind early on in my twenties of ever living there when I started doing the math and ascertained there was a probable need for two incomes to pay the freight. My ultimate rational being that if I was going to raise a family in Ridgewood I wanted it to be one I could recognize, and one which would have at least one parent at home. Call me old school if you like. It just came down to wanting a similar experience, not exactly the same, to what I had while growing up. 

      I reasoned if I couldn't do it based upon my expectations then I figured there were plenty of other ways to lead one's life. For the record I am happily ensconced in Forest Hills, NY with no regrets as to never having had a second act in Ridgewood. Second acts in life are rare to begin with, and many people make themselves unhappy by trying to top themselves by attempting a return to familiar surroundings, even if they do it unconsciously and with no desire to do it better or the same. I actually lucked out by moving here to Forest Hills after I was married (in Ridgewood as a matter of fact). It took some soul searching but it dawned on me that I would have felt a great regret if I had never lived in New York City on my own. I may have been borne in Manhattan and had numerous opportunities to crash in my parent's apartment in Greenwich Village during my college days, but these wouldn't have counted in my mind as having lived in New York City. My wife and I have been here for over eight years and we still delight in the energy and happenings of this city. We understand that this sort of life is not for everyone, but neither is the life found these days in Ridgewood. Both are good, they are just different. It comes down to understanding what is the proper sort of scale and proportion you'll feel comfortable living in and then going out and trying to make it happen. This is the sort of life lesson you can tell to an adolescent but until they are confronted with their own set of choices they won't really understand. One can easily say that much of life is like this, and after a while, if we have adjusted well, we come to accept it.

The Van Sickle Sisters

Judy, Lisa, and Susan

Keepers of the Flame

     All it takes now is a glance down the left side of this blog and you will see a fair number of web sites and blogs all related to Ridgewood and its neighbor Hohokus. There are plenty of others I am sure and they will be added in good time. I'm still not sure this is the best platform to do this sort of accounting of events but it is the best one I have found to date. Of course, I am open to suggestions. All the sites listed have the same intent that this one does: be a bulletin board, web portal, and diary. Some sites emphasize one aspect more than others, while I simply go with the flow and try to chronicle it all. I never sit down in front of the keyboard and try to do anything but what is on my mind or has come to my attention. This serendipitous approach keeps me fresh and interested in continuing this pursuit. It also allows me to explore trains of thought that I might have ignored otherwise. I anticipate this particular blog will continue to slowly grow and will add more regular contributors, including a female prospective. For now, what we have going is fine and I appreciate all the supportive email I receive from old pals who check in to tell me they find this interesting and that I should keep up my efforts. I'll do my best to inform readers of what I see going on, to point them to web sites which might be of direct interest, and entertain them (I hope!) from time to time with a picture or story. This is the least I can do to keep some pleasant memories alive and to help folks who sometimes take their current lives too seriously, myself included. Who knows, we might one day use this platform, or the next generation of Social Networking tools that are created to produce some random acts of kindness. Another way of stating this is that we might "Pay It Forward" as a movie of a few years back intended to demonstrate. I'll end this post with a quote from Albert Schweitzer which I trust is apropos :

Sometimes our light goes out but is blown into a flame by another human being. Each of us owes deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this light.

Doug Perkins

One of the best parts of graduating in a class of over 550 students, as we did in 1977, is the randomness with which former classmates sometimes re-enter your life. Combine this naturally occurring phenomenon with the search capabilities of Google and the living scrapbook which is FaceBook and you can begin to see why people spend loads of time on the Internet. Today I was told the whereabouts of an old gradeschool pal from my Willard days, Doug Perkins (pictured on the left). We used to kid him in grade school by calling him "Nature Boy." This was for his prolific memory and love of the outdoors. Who would have thought that he would have decided to settle in Vermont? The link below is to the musical group, the Jazz Mandolin Project, he has primarily played with for the last 15 years. Way to go, Doug. Doug Perkins of the Jazz Mandolin Project

Faith in the Future

      A mainstream theme while growing up in the 1960s and 1970s was our collective faith in our country's future. We had elegant symbols like the World's Fair in Flushing Meadows (Queens, NY) and exciting moments like when we had men walk on the moon. These two alone suggested future prosperity and a common sense of community. Who can forget waking up early to watch space craft launches? It took precedence over getting ready for school and for work. We all stood around in our PJs and bathrobes while we waited for the countdown and eventual combustion of the propellants which would launch the craft into outer space. Today we are unquestionably a richer society in the aggregate than in those earlier days. The faith in the future we had was certainly justified and has borne fruit beyond our wildest dreams. What's more, it is still justified in my opinion. Yes, those were simpler times in many respects, despite the technological advances represented by our space flights. There were fewer distractions than we have today, no I-Phones, countless TV stations, and the vastness of The Internet to consume large amounts of our collective time and energies. Though one question continues to make me wonder, "How does our sense of community today compare?" 

     I am going to assume collective experiences and our inter-dependency are good things, and by sharing them they help us through difficult societal transitions. For instance, like ending segregation by race, and allowing women to have options in addition to being a stay-at-home Moms, to name two. No doubt there are issues, large and small, today which we still must face. These current problems will likely require the same sense of duty and commitment, if not more so, than that we mustered in the recent past. This is really no surprise to anyone who keeps up with world affairs. The follow-up question is, "Do we still possess the expertise and capacity to solve our current problems?" As an optimist, I will answer yes. Though the pragmatist in me realizes that a personal investment will need to be made by everyone involved. These efforts will be aided, as they usually are, by easily identifiable common symbols. This is where my grounds for optimism requires some clarity, because I can't see which common symbols people will feel compelled to rally around. Maybe the answer is that the symbols will be smaller and more localized than in the past, and there will be more of them to choose from. The end result will hopefully be the same as in the past when we were doing the highly visible space exploration projects. People saw themselves then watching those early morning space launches as members of a group who were intent on producing positive, lasting changes. Their efforts, however tangential, felt significant and like they would long endure. This is the sort of feeling which will need to be re-created for us to continue to have a justifiable faith in our future. The efforts I know are going on as we speak. All it requires is for each one of us to look around and see how we can best help.

Stephanie Jones Strategies

      Here is a plug for a fellow RHS 1977 graduate, Stephanie Jones. She always has had a can do it attitude so it came as no surprise to see her make this announcement today on FaceBook. "Stephanie Jones Strategies, LLC empowers businesses, non-profits, industry associations, government and individuals to bridge the gaps between here and wherever they need to be. Blending bedrock knowledge, keen-eyed insight, concrete credentials and solid contacts - attained through more than 25 years in policy, government, law, education and the media - Stephanie Jones paves the way for clients to advance from objective to success! Stephanie Jones Strategies launches on May 3, 2010."

Earth Day 40 Years Later

       It's hard to imagine that 40 years have sped by since the first Earth Day. On the first one there was much less rancor than there is today whenever the environment is mentioned. The first Earth Day was designed to be a Teach-in and I remember it as a time when we all were learning about things we could do like not litter and to be more conscious of things we tossed in the trash like batteries. 40 years later those are minor points and now there are two sides to issues concerning the environment, both sides with their feet dug in deep. Here is the link to the official web site. Here is a tidbit from Wikipedia: "On 22 April 1970, Earth Day marked the beginning of the modern environmental movement. Approximately 20 million Americans participated. Denis Hayes and his staff organized massive coast-to-coast rallies. Thousands of colleges and universities organized protests against the deterioration of the environment. Groups that had been fighting against oil spills, polluting factories and power plants, raw sewage, toxic dumps, pesticides, freeways, the loss of wilderness, and the extinction of wildlife suddenly realized they shared common values." I like the part about "shared common values" the best. If only we could begin and end our debates these days about topics like Global Warming with a statement that says we realize that we share common values and that the goal of our discussions should be to unite, not divide; the goal should be to respect one another's opinions, not make fun of Al Gore; the goal should be to teach each another what can be done by us all no matter how small and insignificant it might appear.

Ironies in Our Lives

      Growing up, if you are fortunate, you are surrounded by people who know all your faults but love you anyway. We notice the inherent irony of this situation many years later when we are surrounded by people who know our faults but who treat us less than kindly. What is it about all the accumulated education and experience that routinely causes this occur? One would think we would become more compassionate regarding everyone's faults, including our own, as "we grow old and grey and full of sleep" as Yeats would say. The bitterest irony is that our harshest critics are sometimes ourselves. Again, with all the education one would think we could at least cut ourselves some slack. I am as guilty as anyone of this character trait and am working to change it. To this end I resolve to surround myself with reminders of my idyllic childhood growing up in a home with a stay-at-home Mom, and a baseball field I could see from my bedroom window. To make this easier I took an idea from Bill Nolan and had this picture framed and placed in my office just like he did. You will notice him kneeling in the first row. I realize I have posted this picture more than once but it does have a certain positive energy emanating from it well worth the re-posting. It also shows many of the people who knew me best as a youngster; those people whose affection was genuine, and whose presence in my life will likely never be replaced.

Complexity and Aging

     Remember when your friends were a bike ride away? I sure do. While I like to reminisce about those carefree and halcyon days, I understand that its therapeutic value is its most important aspect. To recall the times when both parents were alive does my heart good. If an occasional recollection worth blogging about comes to mind then all the better. It is a complex process this aging we all go through. We all adjust to it differently and approach it with our own individualistic mindset. My view after more than 50 years on this planet is that we need to be grateful for what we have and not rue the fact that we don't have more money, power, and expensive diversions. I would personally take having my friends a bike ride away once again rather than have all the power and luxuries in the world. Maybe we will all ride together again in some retirement community. Hopefully we will all be communicating via some form of Social Networking when we have gone to live in a retirement community or have simply retired. The reunions we have every 5 years or so are truly not enough to nurture our long standing friendships or knock the deposits off of friendships which long ago become rusted. Yes, I believe in the power of the Internet and the ability of Social Networks to be the WD40 for our generation and those to come. Give it a try and you might see what I mean.

Ho-Ho-Kus Stone Fort Train Station

Photos by jlechner201

I had never heard the Ho-Ho-Kus Train Station called a "Stone Fort" until I googled a picture of it today. It does look like a stone fort now that I think about.

My Dad, along with many others, did the commute to New York City from this station. I don't know how he did it for 17 years but those were different times and a different generation's way of doing things. I'm sure the current group of commuters from Ho-Ho-Kus have the same things in mind: college tuition, retirement, and a bit of money to hand down to the next generation.

I rode this train into Hoboken many times myself. Now the ride has a new stop in Secaucus which allows for a transfer to a train which goes to mid-town Manhattan. My favorite part of this trip is the Water Taxi, which is an alternative to the Path Trains under the Hudson. It is akin to the Ferrys which were used as early as 1775 to move people from Hoboken to New York, only now it is quite a bit faster and much less dangerous. Here is an undated photo of what is described as "The Old Hoboken Terminal"















Here is a shot of the restored Hoboken Terminal Waiting Room


This is a bit of history courtesy of Wikipedia:

"Designed by architect Kenneth M. Murchison in the Beaux-Arts style, the rail and ferry terminal buildings were constructed in 1907 as the Delaware, Lackawanna and Western Railroad. The terminal building is listed on the New Jersey Register of Historic Places and the National Register of Historic Places (added in 1973 as #73001102 as the Erie-Lackawanna Railroad and Ferry Terminal). It has been undergoing extensive renovations which are projected for completion in 2011.

The large main waiting room, with its floral and Greek Revival motifs in tiled stained glass by Louis Comfort Tiffany set atop bands of pale cement, is generally considered one of the finest in the U.S. aesthetically. The terminal exterior extends to over four stories and has a distinguished copper-clad façade with ornate detailing. Its single-story base is constructed of rusticated Indiana limestone. A grand double stair with decorative cast-iron railings within the main waiting room provides an entrance to the upper-level ferry concourse.

A 225-foot (69 m) clock tower was originally built with the terminal over a century ago, but was dismantled in the early 1950s due to structural damage and deterioration from weather damage. A new clock tower, replicating the original, was constructed during the terminal's centennial year of 2007 and was fully erect that November. The replica tower has four foot high copper letters spelling out "LACKAWANNA", which are lit at night."

Penny King Quirk--Art Smarts

Art Smarts Penny King just announced on FaceBook that she had spent a couple of hours in the Apple Store and was excited about the design she came up with for her new web site: Art Smarts.She had started the company a few years ago when she noticed the need for art in the schools. The part I like best about the site are the embedded movies. You get a feel for Penny's style and the fun the children are having working with her on their projects. You truly couldn't ask for a better testimonial if you were a prospective customer (parent) and were wondering what it would be like for your child to be instructed by Penny. This is from the web site: "Art Smarts offers after school art lessons to kids. Children are encouraged to try new avenues of creativity by using several different drawing and painting techniques, mediums and subject matters. We help them to expand their horizons for their future successes in life by demonstrating to them how many different kinds of artists make their living through various art projects we provide."

New RHS Alumni Directory

      Received this via email from Harris Publications regarding their work on a new RHS Alumni Directory: "Because so many of you have expressed an interest in rekindling old friendships or simply finding out what happened to each other, we have decided to move forward and create an all-new publication for Ridgewood High School. We will be contacting you shortly with more details, but in the interim we wanted to advise you of the exciting news! Publication Office for Ridgewood High School at Harris Connect 1400-A Crossways Blvd. Chesapeake, VA 23320"

RHS Class 1985 25th Reunion

     This is from the FaceBook Page for the RHS Class of 1985 25th Reunion:  

 

      RHS Class of 1985 Hello Friends: Elissa and I have just gotten off the phone and we are set for October 9, 2010! We’ve booked the Woodcliff Lake Hilton. Our reunion dinner and evening will not exceed $100 per person (this includes appetizers, dinner, dessert, and OPEN BAR!). The property has recently been redone and is lovely. There are lots of amenities including a pool, jogging track, tennis, etc. If you want to get away for the weekend, there is a lot to do! In addition to the hotel, the vicinity itself offers so many options (downtown Ridgewood to shop and catch-up with old friends). There are some nice spas in the area too. We have also reserved a room block for $129.00. The room block will go live next week and be listed under “Ridgewood High School Reunion-Class of 1985”. When it goes live, I will post a message and you can reserve your room. The initial block is 25 rooms. If we fill-up the block, we’ll increase it by another 25 rooms. Our theory here is: Open Bar, walk to room! As soon as I work out payment details, they will be posted here as well. Now you can make plans via plane, train or automobile! We look forward to seeing you all – as many as possible! Please let us know if you have any questions. Abby Emerson Gray & Elissa Viarango Blesch

The Gateway

By writing this blog I am training my memory to return to early childhood memories of peace and joy. Recapturing these events in my earlier life, in words and pictures, is helping me to discover I have more access to my past and its beginnings than I previously believed. I am in essence disciplining myself to become a retriever. Here I am, with my Dad's finger on the camera lens, getting ready to run in my first Varsity Track Meet in College. I wore spikes for the first time that day and easily won the 1/2 mile event. Unfortunately, my lack of familiarity with spikes caused me to come crashing down in a heap on my shoulder as I crossed the finish line. I learned you don't stop yourself the same way wearing spikes as you do with my more familiar flats. I went down like somebody had shot me and was lucky that I was winning by a heady margin or someone might have trampled me as I lay there helpless on the tartan track. Try this visualization which I replicate here from the Book of Runes: "Visualize yourself standing before a gateway on a hilltop. Your entire life lies out behind you and below. Before you step through the gateway, pause and review the past: the learning and the joys, the victories and the sorrows---everything it took to bring you here."

Baseball Tryouts

      This is a post dedicated to anybody who has tried to hold a wooden bat on a cold spring day. These events usually occurred during the tryouts for a "Major League" team in whatever league you were old enough to participate in. These memories I recall were long before today's ubiquitous use of batting gloves. During these contests which pitted boy versus the baseball, it didn't matter how much dirt we rubbed on our hands, the first contact between bat and ball in the early spring would leave your hands vibrating for a few minutes at least. Nothing could be done except to wait for the sting to go away. A second swing was usually ill-advised, unless someone had corrected the flaw in your first stroke or the next pitch was lobbed in ever so gently. There usually wasn't much time to consider the merits of taking a second swing, and to excuse yourself from taking a second swing would leave you looking weak in the eyes of prospective coaches. This sort of caution might even end your tryout early and would mean a year in the minors. 

      To most people, a year in the minors was the lessor of two evils, especially if you had received an unusually severe sting on your first misguided swing at the plate. Fielding balls at these tryouts in this early Spring weather was no picnic either. A bad hop grounder off your chest when one wasn't expecting it left more than one person I saw gasping for breath and writhing on the ground. There wasn't much we could do in those days as the fields were not quite as well manicured or drained as they are today in Ridgewood. We would usually just help the injured party off the field and continue our attempts to impress the onlookers with our rusty Baseball skills. You see, Baseball in my youth was one of those games which had to be played and practiced outside. Today there are indoor batting cages, at least at the High School level, where one can be reminded of the feel of a bat on ball long before the requisite first Spring tryouts. This is all not to say we didn't have some fun at these tryouts. If you made it through the first round of batting practice you were set for any other obstacles which might come your way, like shagging fly balls in a muddy outfield. These quagmires were loving called "creek mud" and one fellow actually acquired that as his nickname after one hilarious incident when he dared to try and catch a fly ball hit directly into the center of one of these soft miry lands. Nobody remembers if he caught the ball or not because the name stuck, just like the mud he come up covered in from head to toe.

Willard Reminiscences!

As the Ridgewood High School class of 1970 prepares for its 40th reunion, many Willard Elementary alumni have begun to reconnect here. There are quite a few memories being shared, along with the usual inside jokes, and a bunch of class pictures if you scroll to the bottom of the page. The reunion details are as follows: Welcome to the Ridgewood High School Class of 1970 40th reunion website! The Reunion will take place Columbus Day weekend, Oct 8-9, 2010 in and around Ridgewood, NJ. More information can be found here. You can contact my old neighbor Judy Schoneman Beirne for more details: jbeirne_308@yahoo.com They even have a logo which I hope they use to make some souvenirs from www.cafepress.com

Peter McNamara

It's funny how through the wonders of the Internet names which you haven't thought about in years can produce clear memories, ones compelling enough to write about. Peter McNamara, pictured on the far right, is one of these instances.

He lived with his family on Sherwood Road, one block away from our house, and close enough to Willard School that we would see each other often. He was two years older than I but he treated everyone well no matter their age.

Like most boys in the Willard schoolyard of the 60s and 70s, he played sports as they occurred in each season: football in the autumn, basketball in the winter, and baseball in the spring and summer. He was a well coordinated athlete who could be counted on to meet or exceed everyone's expectations for whatever position he was playing.

The thing which really stands out in my mind after all these years is the gentle, soft-spoken way in which he lead his life. He had no need to bully or brag to be noticed. Pete was simply a good guy that everyone liked to be around. He has been gone for 30 years now though he did leave a legacy which everyone who knew him will always cherish.

Signs of Spring

While growing up we could depend upon the crocus has a first harbinger of Spring. It didn't matter that a foot of snow might fall after it had sprouted, this was little deterrent to these early bloomers. They would eventually brush off the snow like nothing had happened and then have their day in the sun. Living where I do in NYC I have to search out the crocus this time of year. The daffodils and tulips are no trouble to spot but the crocus seems to make a concerted effort to hide, likely some form of self-defense mechanism which its cousins in the suburbs don't need to consider. I saw my first crocus while walking my dog this afternoon and this occasion, along with a look at the calendar, confirms the beginning of my favorite time of year: Spring. I enjoy Spring the most of all the seasons for many reasons, including that it marks the beginning of the baseball season. Other reasons to revel in the coming of Spring are the hopeful suggestions contained in the beauty of the flowers and trees as they make their entrances, and bloom in their usual order here in the northeast. All my life it really hasn't taken much more than baseball and blooming flowers to make my day and I'm glad I'm still able to retain this childlike simplicity, even as I make my way through the inevitability of middle age and beyond.

Fallen Trees

 

     It doesn't make you a "tree hugger" in the pejorative sense to feel badly for what went on Ridgewood during the last huge storm. These trees in the picture I'm told on are Hillcrest Road down near the horse stables. I must have walked and rode my bicycle by them hundreds of times while growing up. While I am aware that most things in town are going to change, I always have held out the hope that the countless trees which shaded me, provided me with leaves to rake, and places to hide behind during games of Hide-And-Go-Seek would remain unchanged during my lifetime. They were huge before I knew of their magnificence so it seemed logical to my youthful self that they could endure this way for a long time. The recent storm popped the air from that childhood fantasy of an idea. Fortunately, there are still plenty of trees and the Village of Ridgewood still takes great pride in the care they provide them so nobody is to blame, it is just one of those things which occur and make us grateful for the huge oaks, maples, and elms we have remaining.

The Magic of Ordinary Days

      I caught glimpse of these words on a Hallmark Channel commercial and immediately wrote them down knowing full well they would inspire me to write something. The magic of ordinary days I can now recall may not have felt very memorable to us when we were growing up and trying make use of the time we had outside each day with our friends. Discussions could be heated as to what we should play, and whether or not we had played that particular game or activity too much. It was especially difficult when inclement weather sequestered us inside and TVs were not so ubiquitous as they are today. We truly had to use our imaginations, and take into account where we were and who among us was capable of the activity. When we were outside we also had to beware of ponds of mud on playing fields and the activities of other groups of kids who might not look so kindly upon our intruding on their space. All in all these weren't so magical times to kids growing up and trying to mind the written and unwritten rules of the schoolyard or a friend's basement. Of course, looking back these are the most precious and magical times, especially when we filter them through our rose-colored glasses. I can return to any one of a number of ball fields in Ridgewood and clearly remember events which occurred, sometimes over 40 years ago. Most of these same fields have changed in some small way and are largely better cared for but I can still see through the mist of time the ball I hit or the throw a friend made, or a mad kick to the finish line. These are magical occurrences to me whenever I am on the spot, or feel these emotions recollected in tranquility as William Wordsworth would say. I am able to recall them vividly and with such appreciation, despite the fact that at another time we children might have felt them most ordinary, and nothing as extraordinary as my writing might lead some to infer.

Parallel Parking in Ridgewood

 

 

     Joe Farrell got off a good one liner in my post about Roger Sweeney teaching me the finer points of driving and about cars in the 70s being bigger and thus easier to parallel park, especially if you used the old standby calculation of 1 1/2 cars lengths to estimate your approach. When it came time for me to take my driver's test I had a choice between our "boat" of a Buick station wagon and this little Opel Manta Luxus, sans the young Molly Ahearn of course. Being young and wanting to show my prowess as a driver, I went with the small car which had the stick shift and passed with no troubles. The Opel had been purchased by my Dad when he had turned 50 and I sometimes wonder if there was some sort of mid-life change going on in his mind. Not a crisis but maybe a realization that life is short, and that if you can afford a small indulgence of a car like this one, then by all means go out and buy it. The rest of the family ultimately got much more use out of it then he ever did but that didn't seem to phase him, unless it was left dirty or without gas when he wanted to use it to go golfing on the weekends. On those occasions his temper would flare and pity the poor soul who forgot. He wasn't a violent man, and never once did he ever hit any of his, but you could expect a severe lecture and the loss of driving privileges until he had cooled down. Now that I am 50 I am beginning to see some of the changes that we all go through at this age, I wonder how this will all manifest itself. Living in NYC I don't have the garage space for a sports car, in addition to my tried and true Mazda. Though maybe a career change is in my future. I have spent the last 15 years working in IT and maybe there is some authentic next step which I ought to try and get in tune with. We'll see what changes lie in store. One thing for certain, you can count on me posting my observations here on this blog.

Roger Sweeney

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

      Roger Sweeney was a long-time football coach at RHS, who retired after the 1975 season. He didn't retire from coaching football at the same time as he eventually did from teaching and, I was lucky enough to spend many hours driving around with him and Rob Lane while he taught us the finer points of driving. He was a good instructor and the one lesson he wanted us to always remember about the blind spots in a driver's rear vision is something I practice to this day. It is drilled so deeply in my memory that I always cringe whenever I see people back up their cars by only using their mirrors and, never once checking their blind spots like Mr Sweeney recommended. Mr Sweeney also taught us how to parallel park like professionals in the Graydon Pool parking lot. To this day I can with a quick glance tell if someone trying to park will make it on the first try. I just use the simple formula we were taught of allowing yourself to be 1 1/2 cars lengths in front of the spot you are trying to parallel park into. This correct distance never fails me and usually shows whether or not a driver is from New Jersey. Whenever I see someone make a successful parallel park I am always tempted to ask them if they learned to drive in New Jersey.

St. Pat's Day

      Traditionally a day where one is supposed to cut skill and hop a train or bus to go see in the St. Patrick's Day Parade in New York City. I can't say that I ever did this, despite my Irish roots. When we are young it is often times the mere act of contemplating something as forbidden as honoring this holiday with a bold act, which makes for pleasant memories. St. Pats Day in NYC is a raucous day filled with high-spirited parade goers and plenty of alcohol. I have attended a few in my adulthood and they were more than colorful enough in terms of the acts/hijinxs done to honor the holiday. I am sure that kids today at RHS are going through the same thought process that generations before them did. Whether they actually do the deed of ditching school for the bright lights of Broadway is another story. What is important are the stories they tell to one another and tell of one another. These same stories will be told again throughout their lives whenever they get together with fellow alumni. As is usually the case the dramatic events will be in hindsight even more so, and the fear they felt about any potential punishment will be long forgotten, as it should be.

Chris Duflocq Update

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     Tom Thurston pointed me to the correct spot on the Ridgewood Schools Web site where Chris Duflocq's picture and accomplishments can be found among the 2008 inductees. Here is an exerpt: "Chris DuFlocq (Class of 1977) made his mark in Ridgewood High School athletics in soccer. He was named to The Record’s All- Century Boys Soccer Team as a first-team goalkeeper. DuFlocq was the starting goalkeeper for the Maroons for the 1975-76 seasons. RHS won two NNJIL titles and a county championship with DuFlocq minding the nets. Ridgewood’s combined record for those two seasons was 34-6-1 with two wins in the county tournament being credited to his goalkeeping skills in penalty shootouts. DuFlocq recorded 27 shutouts in his career, including a heartbreaking overtime 0-0 decision to arch-rival Kearny in the 1975 state tournament that was then decided on corner kicks. In 41 matches for head coach Dick Bennett’s Maroons, DuFlocq gave up 22 goals for a 0.54 goals-against average. In 32 league matches during his career, DuFlocq recorded 23 shutouts and gave up a total of 13 goals for a 0.40 goals-against average. Ridgewood recorded an outstanding 28-3-1 league record during that time. He was named first team All-NNJIL and first team All-County in both 1975 and 1976. _ Jeff Yearing, who was an assistant coach to Bennett during DuFlocq’s career and is now Ridgewood High School’s girls soccer head coach, said, “In 36 years of coaching high school soccer, I have had the pleasure of coaching many incredible goalkeepers, both male and female. Chris DuFlocq still sets the standard by which I judge all others, and none have ever surpassed the complete talent that he possessed in so many different areas the position demands.” DuFlocq went on to an outstanding career at Glassboro State College (now Rowan University) and continued playing locally on many men’s club teams."

Chris Deflocq

     I'm a little late to the party but I did want to congratulate Chris Duflocq for being elected to the RHS Athletic Hall of Fame. He was part of the class of 2008 and joins fellow class of 1977 members Becky Deetz and Paul Ferraro. Unfortunately, if you follow the link you won't see Chris's photo or career highlights as the webmaster is even later to the party than I am. RHS is trying to provide a sense of the history of Ridgewood High School to their current students by efforts such as the Hall of Fame, and one other you won't find on their web site but will see if you ever visit RHS, that is, the Wall of Distinguished Alumni near the main entrance. This long overdue recognition really points out what everybody knows but doesn't always realize until they have graduated: brains and citizenship count just as much as athletics in the grand scheme of things, probably more so. It just doesn't seem that way with all the adulation we bestow upon our jocks, sometimes at the expense of people working quietly in the background to make things better for us all. 

 

Strange Names (North New Jersey's Got 'Em)

I wouldn't normally recycle an old post, but this one is coming up on two years old (have I been posting here that long?), and with the new traffic and Ridgewood Expats floating around, I thought it would be fun to resurrect a fun song.

Back in the early 80s, while a student at Clemson University in South Carolina, I got into a musician from Mississippi named Steve Forbert, who had a hit with Romeo's Tune. In the intervening years I forgot about him, but recently heard that he has a new song: Strange Names (North New Jersey's Got 'Em):