The Genius of The Lawns

According to Bob Wiese, RHS class of 1966, this picture is one of the few Cap Cod style houses left in The Lawns. Originally, there were 310 houses of this type and by the late 1960s they were all within a short walk of the Hawes Elementary School. Children didn't have to worry about crossing busy streets without supervision, unlike most of the other elementary schools in Ridgewood.

Bob goes on the say in a FaceBook post on the Ridgewood Ex Pats group wall:

There were no garages or fences, The home owners build their own garages and fences ( they would go into the woods and cut down white birch trees and make a fence out of them.). They drilled their own well to water their grass. Sounds like the wilderess to me, but then on Monday the men would board the train and go to work in the big city NY and return around 6pm by train to their nice little homestead. All was right with the world.

Sounds like something most people would appreciate now, too.

I call this all "genius" because the houses were affordable, they were located near plenty of woods for the children to explore, and there was nearby public transportation for the commuters. According to one source, the Cap Cods sold for between $9,000 and $12,000. While I admit this must be adjusted for inflation, the fact is you could come up with the 20% down payment more easily than a 20% down payment today on a house costing $600,000. It's the tyranny of large numbers which makes those old time homes seem more affordable.

Pease Library

First a bit of history courtesy of the Ridgewood Library:

Gertrude Pease Anderson, one of the founders of the first volunteer library in Ridgewood, left money in her will to build a library in memory of her father George L. Pease. The library was opened in 1923 and was in use by the library through 1998. The police occupied the building in 1999 when Hurricane Floyd flooded their quarters. They moved to the new Village Hall in 2005.

Today the landmark library building is for rent:

Landmark Building in the Heart of the Village, totally renovated, elegant office space offering wood-burning fireplace, Original Chestnut Woodwork, Built in book cases, High Ceilings and Pallandian Windows overlooking Ridgewood. 2 reserved parking spaces, new high efficiency HVAC individually metered.

The only taker to date has been the company which is renovating the train station.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

It only takes a picture of life in Ridgewood during the 1960s and 70s to send my mind back to the moment which the photo depicts. If you are reading this blog then you probably feel the same.



Posted by Eugene Ferraro on FaceBook.

RIP J.D. Salinger

We were assigned The Catcher in the Rye to read in the 10th grade. Our English teacher, Mr Bennett, told us it was a controversial book but I never saw it that way, unless being controversial also means that by reading it you will be made to think. No question the book succeeded in this regard. This is the sort of novel it is for many people I have spoken with.

It did have some swearing in it but I heard worse in the schoolyard so didn't see the big deal. It also had a scene suggesting that one of Holden Caulfield's teachers was a drunk, and maybe even a pedophile. Though we didn't delve too deeply into these topics in the 10th grade.

I have since read all of Salinger's novels and short stories. I have re-read only The Catcher in the Rye, and that I have done too many times to count. I've found it isn't important to read it from beginning to end because I usually just want to read it in order to feel again some of the sentiments I had the first time I read it. I especially like the beginning where Holden is introducing himself and later the prep school scenes. His train ride home late at night after leaving school is hilarious in his attempts to act smooth in front of the mother of one of his former classmates.

According to the Canadian Broadcasting obituary of Salinger:

"The Catcher in the Rye was reprinted eight times within the first two months of its publication and spent 30 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list. It still sells about 250,000 copies a year."

Alma Mater in Winter

It usually wasn't easy or fun to walk the almost two miles to RHS during the winter months. Yes, I didn't have to do it everyday, and I didn't have to carry a ten pound pack. Though it was a challenge on those days I did have to do it. It did keep us lean and I do marvel at how skinny we looked in pictures. The good part, if want to be like me and try to find the bright side, was that it was down hill from our house in Upper Ridgewood. This gave us an extra push in our efforts to arrive at school on time. When it came time to go home I was often involved in sports which meant I could catch a ride with a parent or someone old enough to drive. Then as now parents didn't like their children walking home in the dark or even the late afternoon. Some would say that parents today are too much involved with looking after their kids. I would say it probably is about the same in Ridgewood. In fact, with all the two income families today we might have had more supervision and not even known it. I suppose the difference to me is that there were fewer activities like video games and cell phones which would have kept us inert and at home. Yes, we watched a fair amount of TV but how much can you watch when there were only about 6 channels (2,4,5,7,9,11,13) and the UHF (ultra high frequency) channels? More likely than not, and no matter the weather, we were ordered outside to play in the neighborhood. This helped keep us lean and likely made us more socially engaged than the kids today who spend time playing video games, texting friends, and listening to music. (Often all at the same time!) I'm not ready to say one is truly better than another but I'm leaning towards making the kids get outside and just play with no structured leagues and/or lessons. Just play, just look around and watch the world go by. Remember just lying on your back in the grass and staring at the clouds and commenting on what they looked like?

History of RHS

From the Ridgewood High School web site:


"Ridgewood High School is a unique institution. It has a long reputation of fine service to youth. It provides a huge number of opportunities for students to further their academic, social, or athletic interests. At no time in the past have the students of Ridgewood High enjoyed as many rights and privileges as they do today. Students are becoming increasingly involved in determining the course of their own education. These privileges are to be encouraged and expanded, but they will bring with them ever‑increasing responsibilities for the students of Ridgewood High School. More than ever, each student must realize that there are over 1,650 other students who are a part of this high school and that whatever one student does has an effect on all others. If we can keep this in mind and act accordingly, Ridgewood High School will be that much better.

Ridgewood High School was founded in 1892 when the principal, B.C. Wooster, reorganized the ninth grade into a freshman class and made it the first‑year class of high school. The following year, a sophomore class was added. These two classes met in a four-room structure on Union Street. In 1895, the building on Beech Street (now named Cottage Place) was completed. Due to its spacious rooms, the high school was able to offer a three‑year course. That year, Ridgewood High School was added to the approved list of high schools by the High School Commission of New Jersey. The first class to graduate from this three‑year course consisted of two persons. At the end of Mr. Wooster's principalship, the number of students reached 87 and the number of alumni, 57. By 1912, the high school had 223 students and had outgrown the Beech Street Building. Planning began for a larger facility. The Board of Education purchased the Edwards property on East Ridgewood Avenue and the field between the Edwards property and the Ho‑Ho-Kus Brook, formerly called the White Star Baseball Field. In 1915, the voters defeated a proposal to erect a high school to accommodate 450 students at a cost of $150,000. A year later, $225,000 was appropriated for a new high school to accommodate 600 students. In 1918, the sum was raised to $285,000. Ground was broken in November 1916, and on July 19, 1917, the cornerstone was laid. The formal opening of the new school, delayed by World War 1, was May 7, 1919. In 1915 when Irwin B. Somerville was appointed principal, there were 26 faculty members. The decade was a period of rapid growth. By 1929, the size of the faculty had more than doubled and the number of students had increased greatly. In September 1929, the high school was reorganized into a senior high containing the three upper classes. Freshmen were placed in two junior high schools. One of these was the Benjamin Franklin School which was housed in the high school building. The other, George Washington School, was located on Washington Place. Once again, more space was needed, so a plan was proposed to join the main building with the gymnasium. After several unsuccessful votes, the proposition passed and in the fall of 1930 work was started on the new structure. It was completed in 1931. At that time, Mr. Somerville became supervising principal and George A. Hay was appointed principal. The Village was growing rapidly and within five years, still more space was needed. In 1937, school was dismissed in May so that work could begin building a second floor on the existing building—rooms 202‑216. In September 1945, Ellis D. Brown was appointed acting principal and a year later, he became principal. He served in that capacity until his retirement in June 1960. After World War II, the enrollment again climbed and in 1955 the Benjamin Franklin School was removed from the high school and housed in its new home on North VanDien Avenue, leaving the East Ridgewood Avenue building devoted entirely to grades 10-12. In July 1960, William C. Leach was appointed principal and plans were completed for remodeling and building new additions to provide space for 1,800 students . Work was completed in 1963. In 1970‑71, enrollment was 2,040. A bond issue proposing $7,320,000 for a four-year high school was offered to village voters but turned down in October, 1971. Also defeated at that time was a request for $150,000 for property to enlarge the grounds at East Ridgewood and South VanDien Avenues. In June of 1971, the Ridgewood voters turned back a bond issue for $95,000 to purchase the property at the corner of East Ridgewood and South VanDien Avenues. In order to make instruction and the quality of student life in so large a school more personal and less centralized, the Board of Education in June, 1971, directed that units (Houses) of approximately 700 students each be established. Each house was administered by a dean and a team of three guidance counselors. In 1974, John G. McCutcheon was named principal of the school with an enrollment of 1,935. Under his administration, the House plan gave way to a more centralized administration in which each dean was responsible for a particular area of school life.

Over the years, Ridgewood High School has served students of neighboring communities including Glen Rock, Paramus, Radburn (in Fair Lawn), and Ho‑Ho‑Kus. The last sending/receiving relationship was terminated in 1975 when Ho‑Ho‑Kus residents voted to send their secondary students to Midland Park. In April, 1976, an extensive renovation program (the result of a $4,000,000 bond issue in June 1975) was undertaken. During the 1976‑77 school year, students were housed in five different buildings including Bethlehem Lutheran Church and Emmanuel Baptist Church. To accommodate the building program, a 5-period modular scheduling program was developed with students attending 80-minute classes on alternate days. On July 1, 1977, Dr. Robert Honsinger was appointed as the ninth principal of Ridgewood High School. In September of 1980, the Grade Administrator structure originated with each class having one administrator in charge of attendance, discipline, and class activities during their three years at Ridgewood High School. In September of 1986, the high school became a four-year school with the addition of the Class of 1990 as freshmen. In 1987, after an intensive review and on‑site evaluation by independent observers, Ridgewood High School was one of the few public and private schools of the nation to be granted the prestigious Secondary School Recognition Award by the United States Department of Education. Dr. John R. Crews became the tenth principal of Ridgewood High School on July 1, 1989.

In an evaluation conducted by the Middle States Association in February, 1990, members of the evaluating committee commended many aspects of the curricular and co‑curricular programs and pronounced Ridgewood High School an excellent institution with a superior academic program. In 1991, Ridgewood High School was honored to receive the College Board's Advanced Placement Recognition Award. During the 1992-93 school year, the schedule was modified in an effort to balance class size and better address student learning styles. The new schedule also introduced Unit Lunch, during which the entire high school stopped classes and all students and staff had a common lunch break. In 1989 and again in 1993 New Jersey Monthly recognized Ridgewood High School as one of the eight best high schools in the state. In April of 1994 Redbook Magazine's program titled AMERICA'S BEST SCHOOLS recognized RHS for Overall Excellence. During the 1993-94 school year the high school eliminated tobacco use from the campus and within the line of sight of the campus. While this caused some controversy, initially, the national concern about harmful effects of tobacco and secondary smoke confirmed the correctness of the school's policy change. Dr. John M. Mucciolo was named the eleventh Principal of Ridgewood High School in July of 1997. In December of 1998, voters approved a 19.8 million dollar referendum of which 18.9 million dollars was earmarked for Ridgewood High School. The end result is a new wing that currently houses Science, Mathematics, and Technology. An Art Gallery and renovated classrooms for fine and practical arts, as well as new physical education facilities, including a new gym, locker rooms, and a Fitness Center were all part of this construction project. In addition, a new Campus Center (multi-purpose room) was constructed utilizing part of the courtyard area. Ridgewood was once again evaluated by the Middle States Association, commended, and granted accreditation for the period of May 1, 2000, through May 1, 2010. Mr. John A. Lorenz was appointed the 12th Principal of Ridgewood High School in July of 2006. Mr. Lorenz will lead this comprehensive high school that has earned and maintained a reputation as one of the finest high schools in the nation. Ridgewood High School remains in the forefront of America’s finest twenty-first century high schools by consistently upholding its Tradition of Excellence."

RHS DESIGNATED SILVER MEDAL SCHOOL

In its latest analysis of data on thousands of schools across the country, US News & World Report has placed Ridgewood High School in the top 2.5%. The designation as a Silver Medal School is shared by only 18 others in the state of New Jersey.

To read the US News and World Report story about Best High Schools click here.

The Hermitage

Hard to forget how scary The Hermitage looked to a young child growing up in the 1960s and early 1970s. Then in "January 1972 the Friends of the Hermitage, Inc., a private, non-profit organization, was incorporated. In agreement with the state, the Friends is responsible for historic site management including the furnishing and programs at The Hermitage, while the state is responsible for restoring the structure of the house. This public/private partnership has continued to the present time."

Here it is today.




You need to look no further than this site to see, in my eyes, a clear difference between the northern and southern US. In the north we tend to showcase Revolutionary War artifacts, while in the southern US the tendency is to showcase the Civil War. Of course, this has much to do with the fact that the Civil War was largely fought in the south and that the north has more Revolution War sites to preserve. Both are worthy of our interest, especially if you are like me and have a keen interest in American history.

For those of you who share my interest in Social Networking there is a Facebook page for Fans of The Hermitage.

Chris Richard

Just wanted to give a shout out to Chris Richard and say I added a link to his web site. The picture of him and Bill Hardy appears to be circa 1977.

Chris has been building boats on the Chesapeake for over twenty years and is an accomplished artist whose works are exhibited in the collections of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, The Butler Institute of American Art, and in many private and corporate collections.

New Year's Eve 1977

The best New Year's Eve parties are the ones you can walk home from, or those which are held inside your own home.

The party I attended on New Years 1977 was at Mac Smith's house on Fairmount road and was only a couple of blocks from my house on Glenwood road. It was held during the break between semesters my freshman year at college. This was a time when you could be fairly certain of running into any number of friends from high school, and that was the case on this evening.

Freshmen home on break from college are still a hugely enthusiastic bunch. The grind of studying during the winter months, the toll of pledging fraternities or sororities, and lastly the realization they have left the nest generally have not sunk too deeply into their thoughts by this time. Freshmen still have strong attachments to their home towns and feelings about their high school days so any chance to relive them, even tangentially, brings them great joy. This night in 1977 was no exception.

I must have arrived fairly early in the evening as not too many people had shown up. I was wearing underneath my clothes a pair of red Long Johns from LL Bean so I was set for a frosty night. It might have been the fact these Long Johns were making me feel quite warm that sent me out into the night for a breath of fresh air. Once outside I noticed cars of people my age doing what we always did on the weekend, that is, drive around looking for parties. These cars began stopping by me, as I stood under the street light at the corner of Fairmount and Heights, and asking me if I knew "where the party was tonight." My initial response was quick and accompanied by a broad smile as I pointed to the house behind me. Though after two or three of these occurrences I began to see the fun and mischief that might ensue if I stood there for a while. And that is what I did for the following 45 minutes, until the house was literally bursting with people.

It was a good party that night and we all made plenty of noise and probably broke some things in Mac's house. I vaguely remember a door being cracked, or maybe that was some other night in my past. You could usually rely upon somebody to do something idiotic. You could also rely on everyone who wasn't the host having a good laugh thinking about how Mac would explain the breakage the next day. Though on the whole it was a peaceful party and the police never came. Maybe our newly acquired college sophistication was beginning to show, or we were just more interested in talking with old friends we might not see again for a while, if ever.

I do remember walking home that night feeling like this was our last hurrah together and we had made the best of it. Of course, we would meet up again at reunions but in my mind those nights were too far in the future to contemplate and understand. It indeed was becoming apparent to me that nobody knew the dramatic affect life after high school would have on our perceptions. Nor did we know how it might dampen our desire to drive around Ridgewood hoping to find a grinning young man, standing under a streetlight, pointing people to the party which was going on behind him.

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.

Thanksgiving Day 2009

Here in the northeastern United States the weather is a very nice 60 degrees, with the sun shining through the clouds. By this time of year we are usually very thankful for weather like this because we won't see much of anything similar until spring.

In years past Ridgewood High School would play Fairlawn in football on Thanksgiving morning. This year Paramus is visiting Ridgewood so I wonder who they could burn in effigy? We used to burn Freddie Fairlawn and, as the picture of the water tower suggests, go and deface something in Fairlawn. I'm sure these acts suggest some sort of school spirit but then as now it is looked down upon by those in charge of our youth's moral upbringing.

Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays and one which I can clearly remember over the last 40 years or so. It probably has something to do with the food and family dynamic but fortunately for the holiday it doesn't require one to be able to cook or have ones own family present. In fact, some of my favorite memories are of times when I neither cooked or was with my own family. These moments to me demonstrate the beauty inherent in this time of year. People tend to allow for one more at their table, more than at any other time of the year. This custom speaks, as Abe Lincoln once said it, "to the better angels of our natures." To me it is just a gentle reminder of the vast potential we all have inside of us. Cheers!

Turkey Day Game 1986

From Left to right
Warren Lessing, Jim Noone, Mark Novy, Dave Rorty, Matt Fau, Hank Cannon, Tom Leyden, Bill Novy, Frank Marshall, Marc Russo, Kevin Rodgers, Andy Cahill, and Joey V.

An annual tradition since the early 1960s, these guys have played in all kinds of weather on Thanksgiving morning. I personally participated once in a monsoon and once in sub-freezing, frozen tundra conditions. While age and proximity don't permit my joining them I do marvel at their efforts to maintain friendships through the years.

If you are in the vicinity of Glen School around 9 AM this coming Thanksgiving you should drop in to say hello. There is always plenty of beer and the first one is using opened by halftime.

The Yellow Pages

This entry could be called either the Yellow Pages or the pages which have yellowed. Hard to imagine why I have saved this old copy of the Ridgewood Yellow pages but I did. These sort of things usually would have been thrown away long ago when my parents moved from Ridgewood in 1978 to an apartment in Manhattan. I suppose it made the initial trip because it contained useful information. The subsequent move they made to Hilton Head in 1984 should have spelled its doom, though again it made the trip along with everything else.

After this it should have been hurled away when my parents moved to Florida in the late 1990s but I had by this time grown accustomed to seeing it on a book shelf in my room and whisked it away back to New Jersey for safekeeping. It has since come with my back to New York City where it has a familiar spot on my book shelf.

RHS Class of 1973 Website

This class is starting to plan their 40th reunion in 2013.

RHS Class of 1973

RHS Class of 1980 30th Reunion Web Site

Here it is:

RHS Class of 1980 30th Reunion.


7 August 2010

Ramsey Golf and Country Club
Ramsey, NJ

Yankees Now and Then

I first remember rooting for the NY Yankees during the 1964 World Series which they lost in 7 games to St. Louis. For the next 12 years the Yankees were not very good, and they taught me what it means to be loyal to your favorite team.

The Yankees of my youth had Mickey Mantle in his declining years, where I saw him at Yankee Stadium hit some line drives that invariable would fall short of being home runs. It was hard to watch him struggle and do his infamous trot back to the dugout after making out. In addition to learning the meaning of loyalty I also learned something about compassion.

The final lesson I learned from rooting for the Yankees in my younger days was that not all people are endowed with the same skills and talents. If you ever saw the ragtag bunch who donned the Yankees pinstripes in the mid-1960s and early 1970s you will know what I mean. There were some diamonds in the rough like Thurman Munson and Bobby Murcer but most were very average guys like Horace Clarke, Jerry Kenney, Danny Cater, Gene Michael, to name a few. It's not that they didn't try, only that they had a tough act to follow. The teams which had preceding them had been very good for 40 years and as everybody knows that sort of dominance can't go on forever.

Now that my team has won its 27th World Championship I'll savor it for a while. I won't forget the disappointments of my youth and the hard lessons which they represent. These sort of things provide guidance and help us endure the inevitable hardships to come. Though for now I am counting the days until Spring Training, when my team will defend its crown. This choice of a favorite team was made in my youth and now seems so logical. Of course there were times when I questioned it. I can't exactly say why I stayed the course but it is days like today when I am glad I did.

RHS 1975 35th Reunion Plan

Jay McDonald posted the following to Facebook:

Talk has started regarding a 35th get together. There is a survey the committee is reviewing with a variety of questions including some alternate dates. Hopefully that survey gets sent out soon!

More updates here as they are made available. You might check here , too.

Ho-Ho-Kus Circa 1960s

These descriptions were provided by a former Ho-Ho-Kus resident who now lives in Australia. Here is the link and please do check out her site My Sydney Paris Life.

What follows is exactly how I remember it. Thanks, Carolyn.

The shops in the middle were our favourites:

* Mufson’s: Sliding-glass candy cabinets had a full range of penny candy and larger candy bars. Here we bought dot candy, Lik’M Aid, black licorice sticks, and Rob’s favourite Three Musketeers. Sometimes when my grandparents visited, my grandfather took me to Mufson’s to get a pint of Country Club vanilla ice cream. Best of all, some Wednesday nights after Dad took me and Rob out for our weekly dinner with him, he’d take us to Mufson’s afterwards. He stopped to get cigarettes for himself, but we knew he’d be good for a large candy bar and a 25-cent Little Dot or Richie Rich comic book for each of us.

* Ho-Ho-Kus Bakery: Sometimes Mom got bread here, where they asked me if we wanted it sliced thin or regular. Rob loved their jelly donuts. I requested their small rectangular 7-layer cake for my birthday every year. I often got a big chocolate chip cookie and Rob a large sugar cookie.

* Ben’s 5 & 10: The absolute, undisputed, world’s greatest 5 & 10 store on the planet, in my humble opinion. I can see every aisle in my mind, starting with my favorite, the stationery section on the left-hand side, lined with little rainbow pads and spiral notebooks. Toys were up the back, and on the right-hand side were the ‘grown-up’ aisles, with kitchen and sewing supplies. Robby and I lived on the left-hand aisle. I bought notebooks and pens and he bought squirt guns and miniature cars. I’ve been in many variety stores around the world but have never found one I liked as much as Ben’s.

Trick or Treat

In the days when I used to go trick or treating in Ridgewood, neighbors moved less often than they do now and we interacted with each other more. There existed a familiarity which our current insular brand of neighborliness does not afford us. When I finally stopped trick or treating in the 8th grade, it wasn't that I didn't like the free candy or walking around the neighborhood at night with my friends. It was more that I had come to the realization that I was just too old to be doing it. Funny thing was most all of my friends came to the same conclusion simultaneously.

Looking back on how our neighbors greeted us, and us them, it amazes me to recall how well we knew each of the houses. We had a good idea of what sort of reception we would receive and we would shout to one another in the street if someone was not home that evening. The best Halloween experiences were those like we received at the Gehrigs on Heights road. They used to invite trick or treaters into their home for hot apple cider. This stood in stark contrast to most every home we visited where the door was opened and we stayed on the front steps.

Nowadays Halloween is one of our biggest holidays in this country. The National Retail Federation published statistics to back up this assertion. They found that in the United States that 53.3% of consumers planned to buy a costume for Halloween 2005, spending $38.11 on average (up $10 from the year before). They were also expected to spend $4.96 billion in 2006, up significantly from just $3.3 billion the previous year. I remember we used to go out as hobos most of the time with our faces blackened with charcoal and our cloths old and ripped. These type of costumes didn't cost a thing and were quickly assembled immediately before going out. If we did buy something it was usually purchased at Woolworths in Ridgewood or from Ben's Five and Ten in Hohokus (pictured below).

Sincere Pumpkins

Ever October since I moved back to the northeast in the late 1990s, I have made a point of buying a "sincere pumpkin" or two to commemorate the season. At first I went to Tice's Farm in Woodcliff Lake to buy my pumpkins, where I would partake in the doughnuts and apple cider I remembered so well from growing up. Tice's neighbor, Van Ripers, closed its doors in 1994 but Tices carried on until 1999. Today the site is home to Tice's Corner Marketplace, a non-descriptive, strip mall. With Tices and Van Ripers long gone, I usually buy my pumpkins, cider, and doughnuts at Demarest Farms in Hillsdale, NJ. They do a fine job. My annual pilgrimage is made all the more special because we used to buy corn and blueberries from the Demarest roadside stand. They have since built a large market across the street from the original stand, and use it as a gathering point for the people they let pick fruit from their orchards.

What makes a pumpkin sincere? I naively believe it has much to do with the frame of mind of the person who is buying it. It also has to be locally grown and sold by a long-time farmer.

To my way of thinking it is important to imagine yourself as a child filled with the wonders of the season when you go to purchase the pumpkins. I like to first stop and dwell upon autumn's colors and unique tastes, like the apples and pumpkins which seem omnipresent, and then consciously go to choose a pumpkin. I look for a small, bright colored pumpkin with a strong stem. I don't carve them as I want them to last, and I don't possess a talent for carving. The pumpkin should be able to stand for weeks on its own in order to rate the accolade of a sincere pumpkin. This strategy has yet to fail me and it allows me to feel the authentic meaning of my ritual long into November.

Willard School 1968

This one has been hanging in Bill Nolan's office for the last 20 years and is a favorite.

Ridgewood Basement Parties 1977

Bill Nolan, Chris DuFlocq, and Paul Ferraro. I can't imagine what they might have been drinking but they certainly were having a fine time.






Jim Velordi, Dan Conti, Bill Nolan, and Tim Daly.

These guys were studs. ;-)







FYI, these are all on FaceBook. Just another reason to join as there are many more where these came from, and many more are on the way.

RHS Prom 1977

A big thank you goes out to Bill Nolan for posting this on FaceBook.







The guys from left to right with their dates:

Bill Nolan and Brenda Earl,
Tom Thurston and Jamie Rider,
Paul Ferraro and Kim Puglisi,
Mike Crockford and Tammy Porreca,
Dan Conti and Mary Beth Reagan,
Jim Velordi and Carol Murphy,
Tim Daly and Kim Dalby.

Dr. Lenihan

Last time I drove by his office it was being razed for something else. Funny how things change and more often than not a concrete memory becomes just another piece of concrete.

Dr. Thomas Lenihan had his office at 530 North Maple Avenue in Ridgewood. It was located for a while in the 1960s directly across the street from the old Maple House Ice Cream Store.

All my brothers and I visited him until our 18 birthdays and then he would turn us loose as we were no longer children. I will always remember my last visit when I was 18 and ready to go off to college. This visit was different from all the rest because it was my last, and my mother didn't give me a ride down to his office. When we were younger she had always accompanied us into the examination room. I suppose by this last visit I had grown self-conscious enough to tell her that her participation was no longer necessary.

On this last visit when we were done Dr. Lenihan looked me in the eye and shook my hand. It was very similar to another time later in my life when I shook the hand of a friend, both of us knowing full well we would never see each other again.

Dr. Lenihan wished me well in college and I then made a point of thanking him for all he had done for me while growing up.

A knowing smile overcome both of us and I walked out of his life forever.

Ice Cream Stores

This photo courtesy of www.201.net. I still have a 201 area code on my cell so I am fairly certain that is where they draw the name for this site which highlights the best of Bergen County.


"The kids tag along to help out when the adults come to Terwilliger & Wakefield in Ridgewood to pick up their families’ supplies of milk for the next few days. Here, Mrs. F.W. Tenney receives her two quart-bottles’ worth from T&W staffer Catherine Van Echelpoel; Tenney’s grandson, 3-year-old Richard Long, seems quite pleased with the transaction.

T&W, particularly beloved among locals for its large cones of premium ice cream, was a regular stop for visitors to Ridgewood’s Wild Duck Pond Area, just across East Ridgewood Avenue. The company was later sold to Dreyer’s Grand Ice Cream, and the site today houses a branch of Prudential Insurance Company."

Along with T+Ws there was also the Maple House on the border of Hohokus and Ridgewood which we frequented for ice cream in the 1960s, and Van Dykes on Ackerman which is still serving delicious ice cream by all accounts.

Of course during baseball season it was a tradition for winning teams to visit Dairy Queen, where if your manager told them you had hit a home run that day they would give you a banana split on the house.

Ho-Ho-Kus Inn

It took me over 40 years before I first stepped foot in this historic Inn. I must have passed it literally thousands of times but never had an occasion to eat, drink, or have a look inside. This all changed on the night before my wedding in Ridgewood when I entertained my family there and had a wonderful evening.

I am not too sure my parents had ever eaten there either before my wedding. They were like many parents of the day in Ridgewood and didn't eat out much and instead feverishly saved for their childrens' college education. They also didn't take their kids out to dinner much, which is quite different from today. I often wonder if kids today are dine out more because both parents have to work, or both parents have to work because they dine out more than we did. All I know is that eating out was a special moment and our table manners had to be precise. We were shown what to do with our napkins, elbows were kept off the table, and we buttered one small piece of bread at a time and not the whole piece. I still laugh thinking about the bread whenever I dine out with clients and they reveal their complete lack of table manners by picking up a piece of bread and slathering it with butter. Seriously, does anyone really want to watch them do this? We were taught that it was the small things which counted and that dining out should be enjoyable for everyone, including the people sitting next to you in the restaurant.


The Ho-Ho-Kus Inn is currently being renovated and various announcements have stated that it was to re-open in the spring of fall of 2009. I hope they make it but am well aware of how difficult it is to run an upscale restaurant in a down economy.

This tidbit is from Wilipedia and sounds fairly accurate but you never know.

Ho-Ho-Kus Inn was oringally a private residence built for John “Jake” Zabriskie in 1790. After his death the house was converted into a private church and served as a parsonage for the Christ Episcopal Church in Ringwood. During this time Ho-Ho-Kus Inn had been referred to by several nicknames such as Zabriskie House, the Villa Inn, The Mansion House, the Wayside Inn, and the Washington Inn.

The building later became a resting house for the New York elite until 1920 and was referred to as Mansion House during this time. In 1920 the house faced demolition but was saved by Mrs. H.T.B. Jacquelin. In 1941 the house was purchased by the town and became a landmark and was leased to several people. In 2007 the restaurant was bought by Chris Kelly. Kelly had asked George Zahakos and Catherine Stauch, formerly of the Bicycle Club in Englewood Cliffs, to take over the restaurant however this deal has fallen through.

Passbook Savings Accounts

It was on April 1st 1986 that the end of Federal regulation on passbook savings accounts allowed banks and savings and loans to pay whatever they wanted.

I remember my first savings account and the 5% interest it earned. I had to go into the imposing bank on Ridgewood Avenue and give them my money so they could then stamp my passbook. The bank is located in the left of the photo and is still there, though under another name. The interest they pay now is one of their own choosing, and likely much less than what I used to receive.

The transactions I recall occurred in the era when the term "Bankers' Hours" meant that your bank opened at 10 AM and closed at 3 PM Monday through Friday. This gave the bankers time to count the money and make sure they were able to greet the public with the self-confidence which the laws and our social customs required.

It really is a quaint idea to recall: the bankers were well-known and respected members of the community, who kept a tight rein on borrowing. They were, after all, the safeguards (literally) of the local money. Risky loans were discouraged and the people who were having trouble with making payments were counseled, and in some cases had their loans re-worked. It was Jimmy Stewart in "It's a Wonderful Life" that would represent this ideal picture in my mind in all its glory.

Now I would love to say, in order to strike a contrast between now and then, that we now have Lionel Barrymore's character, Mr Potter, in all his evil glory minding the money of our banks. Though this would be far from the truth. Nobody is actually counting the money these days or opening the doors to the public at 10 AM. Banking is now a non-stop affair conducted over the Internet and in bank branches open 7 days a week. The bankers are mostly unknowns in the community because there are so many branches and the people who work in them come and go like bus boys at a restaurant. Whether this is all progress is not for me to say. I can say that I like the interest they used to pay and the huge edifices they had to house our funds. When I see a bank like this today I known that it will either be made a landmark or sold to be used for something else like an upscale deli. I would personally love to have an office in such a structure, that or an old railroad station.

Our First Award for Blogging

     I would love to say this blog earned an award for public service or journalistic excellence but all we did was exist on the Internet and a company found us. In return for this award, the firm wants a permanent link to their site. This I won't do unless they can show me they have a connection to RHS, and then I will gladly give them a link because I have done this for other alumni. The award is from a company who sells National Football League ThrowBack Football Jerseys. As a child this would have thrilled me as I used to wear football jerseys all the time, especially to play football. The more mud, blood, and grass stains these jerseys accumulated the better we felt wearing them. Now these jerseys are simply another piece of clothing to me as my football days are long gone. I am grateful for the recognition and if you hurry you might even see this blog in the featured section by following this link: Throwbackfootballjerseys.net

On the Bus

Growing up I lived near the end of the line for a commuter bus which carried people into New York City. It was very handy in junior and senior high school because we could see the bus pass by on its way to the end of the line, the spot on Hillcrest Road where it turned around. On cold or rainy days this meant we usual had about 5 minutes to wait before it returned.

In those days people could smoke on the bus. Many under age smokers found this was one of the few places they could light up and not be caught. You knew the bus driver wasn't going to say a word, especially if you saw his ashtray filled with cigarette butts. People would smoke no matter how crowded the bus, and this was simply accepted as commonplace.

The ride cost a quarter to either GW or RHS. It's funny to think that when I was in high school if I had wanted to walk say three or four blocks in the opposite direction I could have rode a yellow school bus for free. RHS provided a ride to kids who lived more than 2 miles from school. We lived just within this 2 mile limit.

While the yellow bus was a bargain it wasn't nearly as interesting as the commuter bus, catching a ride to school in a friend's car, walking or even riding my bicycle. No, the yellow bus was too filled with school-related pressures for me in the morning to make it a compelling option, and it was long gone after I was down with sports practices in the afternoon. I can honestly say I never once rode the yellow bus and truly doubt that I missed anything.

Touch Football

When I was growing up Autumn afternoons, like the one we are having today in the Northeast, were devoted to touch football. The games on Saturdays and Sundays were usually played at Willard School on a field comprised mostly in our imaginations, and one which bears little resemblance to the neatly manicured field that exists today.

We played on a field with no markers and which was largely composed of dirt. The out-of-bounds marker on one side was based upon the upright posts of a metal fence on California Street. The other out-of-bounds marker was more specific because it was the stone wall which abutted the school itself.

The dimensions of the field mattered very little to us because the game itself was more important. If only the fathers of today would take these words to heart, they could have saved themselves a ton of tax dollars spent sprucing up fields which required no maintenance other than cutting the grass in the summer. Such is the irony of life.

We only lived for the game in those days and didn't care how the field looked or was designed. There were rainy days we played and reveled mostly in the mud we accumulated on our cloths. Not that our mothers, who had to wash our cloths, had the same feeling but they at least understood where we had been and what we had been doing. These seemingly innocent games were rights of passage and nothing was going to stop us, except the eventual coming of snow in winter. We might have marveled at the Professionals who played through the "Ice Bowls" in Green Bay, Wisconsin but we would only carry this admiration just so far. When it was too cold to throw or catch the ball the Touch Football season was over.

Now that I have lived a half century the Touch Football season is long over. I tried to play at the annual Turkey Day Game at Glen Field on Thanksgiving but my body in the late 1990s had long since betrayed me, and the exhilaration was gone.

My friends still keep the tradition of touch football going each and every Thanksgiving, so if you are in the vicinity of Glen School around 10:00 AM next Thanksgiving you should stop in, that is, if your body will permit.

The Tug of the Past

I had a moment of enlightment while reading Richard Russo's novel Bridge of Sighs. He is the author of Nobody's Fool.

When I read the following I knew at once it applied to why I blog about a time long gone. To set the scene this is a father, who is writing an autobiography, responding to his son:

"Mom says you are writing your life story up there."

"Nothing quite so grand as that, I tell him, though it's true I've written far more than I expected to, having underestimated the tug of the past, the intoxication of memory, the attraction of explaining myself, to, well, myself."

When I read the words "intoxication of memory" and "underestimating the tug of the past" I knew Mr Russo had nailed the feeling which I enjoy.

This blog, as I am gratefully able to tell one and all who read it, is my belated attempt to explain to myself some of what went on over 30 years ago. To the many people who have found this blog and sent their kind words, I extend a hearty thank you. It is all I really need to keep bringing up these memories of mine which bubble up at the most unexpected moments.

The bottom line is: I'll keep writing if you all keep reading. Also, please send your old pictures as they are, as the old saying goes, worth a thousand words. Your suggestions for posts are also most welcome.

Cheers!

Summer Vacation

I guess if the President has his way then K-12 students need to beware. Our President is floating ideas about the summer vacation we all just enjoyed. It could be sharply curtailed if President Barack Obama gets his way.

Obama says American kids spend too little time in school, putting them at a disadvantage with other students around the globe.

"Now, I know longer school days and school years are not wildly popular ideas," the president said earlier this year. "Not with Malia and Sasha, not in my family, and probably not in yours. But the challenges of a new century demand more time in the classroom."

The president, who has a sixth-grader and a third-grader, wants schools to add time to classes, to stay open late and to let kids in on weekends so they have a safe place to go.

"Our school calendar is based upon the agrarian economy and not too many of our kids are working the fields today,"

Now let Paul McCubbin offer his view: In my personal experience, the idea of giving school children the summer off from school has always been held in high esteem. It is a time-honored tradition which we have fit into our schedules for a number of generations. I don't see how our economic position would be improved if we robbed our youth of time off to explore during the summer, and disrupted all their parents vacation plans.

How about we just get the parents more involved during the current school year, and not give them one more thing to worry about during the summer months?

As it stands most households with school age children already have two parents working fulltime. Hey, and what about the teachers??? Does anyone think that they are working 40 hour weeks? They never did in Ridgewood when I attended. Let's just all relax and give this entire idea a second thought. Peace.

Jens Larson in the Circus

If you had ever wondered if the rumors about Jens Larson joining the circus after college were true, then this picture should end your doubts. I heard from him via FaceBook and it was wonderful to re-connect with someone from my old Willard neighborhood. He is married and teaches high school in Phoenix since retiring from the circus. Check him out here:

Jens in the Circus

Ridgewood Bags

Long before it appeared that every school boy and girl was wearing a backpack to school, we were carrying our Ridgewood Bags at our sides. These were usually purchased at one of the two sporting goods stores in town, Perdue's or Bernard's.

We filled these bags with school books, gym shorts, gym shirts, and socks. What's more, they were only carried by guys. I don't remember what the girls used for their books, unless they held to that wonderfully, old-fashioned idea that the boys should carry their books. I know this happened because I remember doing it.

We starting carrying Ridgewood Bags to Junior High School because GW was much further away than Willard, and usually was a bus or car ride. The same was true for RHS, which was even further away for us folks who went to Willard.

The Ridgewood Bag was a rite of passage, in our small-world mindset. I think that it meant that one felt confident enough to go along with the crowd. It was much the same as the Varsity Jacket that guys wore in High School when they became a Letterman in a sport.

While I bought into the Ridgewood Bag I never purchased a Varsity Jacket, and I was a 3 Letterman in High School. The Varsity Jackets were more for the Football, Soccer, Basketball, Wrestling, and Baseball guys. I ran Cross Country and Track. The only Track guy I remember having a Varsity Jacket was my pal Kurt, and he was a 3 Letterman for his entire High School career. There were others who had purchased a Varsity Jacket, though for the most part, they had purchased the jacket while earning a letter in some other sport.

The pure Track guys were usually low-key, especially that select few who did nothing else but run. It's not that we didn't admire and respect the Varsity Jacket because we did. As I recall we were probably thinking more about the weather, and how to stay warm during our Track practices in sub-freezing weather and torrential rains. The Soccer and Football guys practiced in the rain and endured the same heat we did, but they never practiced in January at Veteran's Field, and had to wear long underwear, hats, gloves. I am sure they would have done it if Coach Sweeney or Coach Bennett had asked, but they were never called upon to endure these elements. Maybe this gave them more time to contemplate the aura which surrounded the sports in which they participated. These were the same guys who dressed in ties on the day of games, and were urged on by Cheerleaders who wore their uniforms to school to remind us that there were Football and Soccer games about to be played.

For those of us who participated in Cross Country races and Track Meets the necktie was optional, and the Cheerleaders never showed. This was fine with us because we all knew that Cross Country races and Track Meets did not lend themselves to the sort of excitement which the Cheerleaders produced. This all made for a different mindset among the Track guys. For the most part we knew that nobody was going to urge us on during our events, except our closest friends and family. It's not that it wasn't important to us. We just understood the world as it was. We knew all too well that our events paled in comparison to the Saturday crowds with hotdog vendors which the Football team had behind them.

We Track guys reveled in our individualism and enjoyed those quiet satisfactions which came with a turkey sandwich from the deli near Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx. We raced in all kinds of weather and lived to tell about it, as the cliche goes. If you had seen us run the Eastern States Championship race in 1976 in a monsoon, you would understand what we endured that day at Van Cortlandt, and how we had fun in our own special way despite everything.

Stickball

Living next to Willard School did have a few advantages. One was the ability to view the playing fields and stickball court from my bedroom window. The "court" as I call it was basically a wall built in the early 1960s that was probably erected to keep balls from bouncing off the teachers cars in the adjacent parking lot. People used one side for practicing their tennis stroke and kids like me and my younger brother used the other side for stickball. We played so much baseball as kids that my brother's left arm became so strong that his very first season in Tiny Tim League (8 and 9 year olds) he overwhelmed all the kids he pitched against with straight and true fast balls. He has always given me credit for this but it was largely his own talent and the good fortune of living next to a very active schoolyard.

In Spring and Summer it was baseball and in the Autumn we played football. Soccer wouldn't become popular in Ridgewood until the 1970s and, now it is played with a passionate intensity once only known by baseball and stickball players in town. The soccer Moms and Dads have produced leagues for the Spring and Autumn, plus road teams which travel to other towns for soccer tournaments. Kinda hard to imagine that for stickball. In fact, I don't know if there any other stickball courts in town. If my memory serves me none of the other schools have a wall with the proper dimensions for a game. Of course, you could always play against the school itself, which we did when the older boys were using the court. Though playing against the school was not the same and often times the janitors would tell us to stop for fear we would break a window.

Amazingly enough the wall we used for our games still stands and the last time I looked a batters box to determine balls and strikes was still visible on the wall. Hard for me to say if they play as often as we did. There are so many other sports and activities to draw kids attention that it wouldn't surprise if stickball was a lost art.

Graydon Pool 2009

     The following article is from today's NY Times. I've always liked the look of Graydon and my family spent many happy days swimming there, but times have changed. The cost of keeping this charming reminder of a simpler era just doesn't make sense in our current economic climate. The article cites the fact that there are only 3000 members, and that this number is down from 6000 in 1999. I wonder how many people were members in the 1960s and 1970s?

"When she was growing up in Ho-Ho-Kus, N.J., in the 1980s, Melinda Cronk and her friends envied the kids in nearby Ridgewood for one simple reason — Graydon Pool, the languorous green park and 2.6-acre natural swimming hole that was Ridgewood’s blissful monument to suburban summers. In the year before the 100th anniversary of Graydon Park — its pool was established in 1929 — it’s easy to see why. With its sandy beach, its fieldstone walls and particularly its sand-bottom swimming hole filled with 3.8 million gallons of spring water, Graydon Pool seems like an idyllic throwback to a less hurried version of suburban life. Ms. Cronk still thinks of Graydon as a magical place. But, alas, she no longer thinks it’s a practical one. She lives in Ridgewood but does not pay the modest dues to join Graydon. And, after three years of study, the village task force she heads has decided that the only way to save Graydon is to plow it under and replace it with a more familiar symbol of summer, a blue concrete pool. The result has been an increasingly nasty battle, lawyers at the ready, pitting Graydon loyalists, many, but not all, of them longtime residents, versus advocates for a concrete pool, many, but not all of them, younger families new to town. It has turned into one of those litmus tests of modern life and particularly modern parenting. The Graydon loyalists, who have organized a group called the Preserve Graydon Coalition, say Ridgewood would betray its heritage if it opted for a new pool. “If they do what they’re planning, it would be just another thing lost to the wrecking ball of suburban sterility,” said Mark Ferraro, a lawyer, whose grandfather was a lifeguard at Graydon. Ms. Cronk said that, nostalgia aside, people in town have deserted Graydon in droves for more conventional pools in nearby towns. In Ridgewood, a village of about 25,000 people, membership, she said, had dropped to less than 3,000 now from more than 6,000 in 1999. She said surveys of Graydon members and nonmembers showed that too many people view Graydon as unsafe and unclean. Younger residents in particular want a thoroughly disinfected pool with clear waters so they can always see their youngsters. In a 2008 letter, the State Department of Environmental Protection recommended that the town change to a real pool, she said. “In its heyday, that beach was packed,” said Ms. Cronk, co-chairwoman of the Ridgewood Pool Project. “I wish it were not like this, but it’s just not being used. We’ve got to face the reality of changing times, and every path we walked down led to a bona fide pool.” Graydon’s problems, by some measures, began in the mid-1990s when the state first eliminated and then sharply curtailed the chemicals used to keep the water clean. There were problems over the years with clarity, algae and geese. Timothy Cronin, Ridgewood’s director of Parks and Recreation, said that Graydon is now as clean and clear as it’s been in the nearly three decades he’s worked in Ridgewood, with clarity of 10 to 12 feet. Still, he doubts that’s good enough for many parents. “When I drive past the schools in this town, you wouldn’t believe the number of parents who drive the children to school,” he said. “My parents never drove me to school. I took the bus or walked. There’s just a higher level of concern on safety issues now. Maybe they don’t want children walking to school because of all the articles you read about pedophiles.” Even among the parents at Graydon, there were differing views. Tanya Lee, who has lived in town for 15 years, said her four children regularly use the pool and love it. “A lot of the people who complain about Graydon never go to Graydon,” she said. But Jeanette Venizelos, a five-year resident with two small children said it was time for a concrete pool. “I grew up with a real pool,” she said. “And when people say this is a pool, I say this isn’t a pool, it’s a duck pond, a chlorinated duck pond.” There are many cross currents. Last year, a child drowned, a 14-year-old boy from South Korea who had been in the country for two days and was in a deep area he was not qualified to be in. The pool’s safety record is comparable to other pools — Mr. Cronin said he believed there had been two other drownings in the pool’s 80-year history — but the one last summer only deepened the concerns. Graydon proponents point to a modest vogue for natural pools, saying Ridgewood wants to destroy its pond just when it would be in tune with contemporary green sensibilities. Art Wrubel, chairman of the village historic preservation commission, said the commission was adamantly opposed to a concrete pool that would destroy any part of the existing pool and has drafted a letter to the council saying any changes should “improve upon Graydon’s natural and historical landscape.” Then there are financial issues — costs of building a new one or addressing dwindling revenues from the old one. Both sides say they are Graydon’s real defenders. The pool project’s report is billed “Restoring Our Village Landmark.” Advocates say a concrete pool, sensitively built and respecting the park’s distinctive natural setting, is the only way to return it to the community gathering place it used to be. The swimming season ends Labor Day, but the battle is just heating up. The council is considering a request for proposals for a new or updated pool. The Preserve Graydon Coalition plans a show of force for a pro-pond presentation to the council on Wednesday. A pro-pool group, Fix Graydon Now! — headed by a longtime Graydon member, Leigh Warren, who has reluctantly come to believe that Graydon will never lure back enough people in its current form — plans a show of force in opposition. 'I’m told there will be a police presence,' one of the pro-pond organizers said ominously." E-mail: peappl@nytimes.com

Glen School Reunion Update

This is from my pals at the Glen School Class of 1967 blog:

Art Brierley was kind enough to file the necessary papers and we are confirmed for the Glen School reunion. It will be Saturday November 7 at Glen School! I will update with times, cost, etc.

If you're already on the list I will email you - I will need your addresses and phone numbers soon. If you're stumbling onto this site, come to the reunion! We have about 38 so far but there are still a lot of classic Glen alums out there! Get in touch! If you don't we'll make you climb the ropes in the gym! Its hectic at the moment with local baseball, etc but we will ensure everything goes smoothly with this one - its special!

I promise I will add more great Glen stories!

BF and RHS friends are welcome too - but space is limited so you have to let me know!

Email them at cmad@ntplx.net.

Baseball Gloves

I got this quote off the New York Daily News blog:

I remember the days of summer when we never left the house without bringing our baseball gloves. The gloves fit very nicely over the handle bars of our bikes. We never knew where or when a game of baseball, softball or stickball might break out, so we always had to be prepared...even if it was two guys just having a catch. I look around today and sadly I don't see that anymore.

Read more: http://www.nydailynews.com/sports/2009/08/26/2009-08-26_summer_essay_series_what_a_day.html#ixzz0PK6ewkTJ

A few years ago I decided that if I ever played another game of softball or stickball it would be with a new glove. It was then that I got rid of the only two baseball gloves I had ever owned. Now these gloves were over 40 years old and had long ago out-lived their usefulness, but I had kept them anyhow. It was both sad and liberating to throw the gloves away. I was sad because they were old and filled with many great moments. I was happy because it meant I might have one more chance to break in a new glove.

It's been 20 years exactly since I last played a game of baseball. The very happy circumstances around this last game, not unlike Ted Williams last at-bat, have held me back from participating again. Why try to top yourself? This is an old show biz adage and I am an old ham.

In any event, it was 20 years ago that I was playing my first game as a "ringer" on a US Congressional league softball team. The Congressional League rules require that a woman bats at least every third at bat. This meant I was going to be sitting for most of the game as I was a newbie, and the girls had to play.

By the time I walked to the plate we were losing 15-0. I knew I would have one chance and would have to be patient. Just my luck the opposing team brought in a new pitcher, who was hoping to make good. His first pitch was right across the plate and I took it for a strike. This took the pitcher by surprise and I suspect he wanted me to make contact. The next pitch I didn't take and sent over the center fielder's head for a home run. When I crossed home plate I suspected this would be last at-bat.

If this is to be my last game I privately will allow myself to say I retired in the same manner as Boston Red Sox great, Ted Williams. On his last at-bat in 1960 he hit a home run, and seemingly skipped all around the bases.



Notice all the empty seats in Fenway Park in Boston. I didn't skip but I felt I was done, and haven't entertained the idea of doing it again, for love or money.

The Dog Days of Summer

These are the hottest, most sultry days of summer. They seemed to always coincide with those last few days before we returned to school, and a routine we knew well.

By the time the Dog Days arrived in August we had been without our usual ways of doing things for a couple of months. While we loved the freedom, there was also a desire to see people again who were usually only encountered in a school setting. This is just the way it was, people took vacations at different times and we would lose touch with one another. I don't remember how long it took to re-connect once we resumed school, not long I imagine, but it seemed by the Dog Days that we had been out of school for quite a while.

I lived adjacent to the school yard of Willard School and could literally look out my bedroom window to see who was there, and what sort of games were being played. By late August I knew not to look because there wouldn't be enough people to start a game of baseball, and even if there were it would be too hot and muggy to contemplate choosing up sides.

I suppose the thing which kept us going, if we were around during this miserable stretch of the summer and not out of town on vacation, was thinking about the alternative: sitting in a hot classroom in September!

The days before our classrooms were air conditioned, as they are now in Ridgewood, were wretched for teachers and students alike. I know it's fine to be nostalgic about the simpler days, I do it all the time, but this one facet of growing up will never, ever seem like a pleasant idea. Nobody trying to learn in a hot, brick building could concentrate or think of anything except getting out of their school cloths and running around barefoot, including the teachers I would imagine.

We didn't have a centrally air-conditioned house until I was a junior in high school. I can clearly remember walking the two miles home from RHS during the dog days of my sophomore year. It was hot and I was carrying a ton of books. When I came home I shed my cloths and stood in front of a large fan for about 15 minutes. Of course, I then went outside to see what was going on in the school yard. Nothing was going to keep me inside by this time, heat or no heat. Even standing under a tree on a late summer afternoon was better than the alternative of sitting inside a school building. Every little breeze we felt made us thankful, even if we didn't verbalize it, that we were out and about. It's moments like these I suppose we will ponder later in life. Or as one of my favorite poets William Butler Yeats wrote, "When you are old and gray and full of sleep. And nodding by the fire." For that brief moment under the huge oak tree behind the principal's office we were both free and cool. There is nothing better in the world for my money.

The Duck Pond

I was reminded of the Duck Pond when I came across the news that it now has a dog park, a couple of fenced pens for dogs to run around in without a lease. I'll save my opinion of this for when I have seen it for myself.



By some good luck this is an item I came across during my Google search, courtesy of the Ridgewood Historical Society. It reminded me once again of how times change, and how we are smart when we find new uses for old ideas. In this case, ice was a prized commodity in the days before refrigeration could be afforded by everyone. By the time I came around the Duck Pond had fortunately evolved into a skating rink in the winter, a place for elementary school class parties, and a spot to take a date for a stroll during more temperate climate.

I am hoping that Ridgewood finds a similar use for Graydon Pool which is just as enduring as the one that was found for the Duck Pond. Seeing Graydon empty, like I did recently this summer, is not something which brings back any good memories for me, or makes financial sense when we are in the middle of a depression. Just my two cents.
Now the article which made me smile:


"When The Duck Pond Was More Than A Walk In The Park"

Before there were refrigerators there was the Duck Pond. As recently as the early 1930s, local hotels, inns and uptown markets relied on ice to keep food fresh and lemonade cold. Ridgewood’s Duck Pond was a major source of ice at that time, which was harvested and stored in the winter for use in warmer days. The enterprise was owned by Garret Tallman and Walter Hanham and their “empire” consisted of six wooden buildings that stretched from the west bank of the pond to Pleasant Avenue.

Blocks of ice two feet thick and three to four feet long were cut and hauled by pulleys into the ice house where it was stacked between layers of salt hay to prevent melting. Horses were used to maneuver the ice from pond to shed and they required special horse shoes to grip the slippery ice. If an accident sent the animals into open water, everyone participated in their rescue. Any delay could mean sickness or death for the horses.

The stored ice lasted throughout the warm weather season. Ice was not used in the winter as families relied on pantry boxes set in the windows, or lowered into a well. In the fall, the pond was drained and cleaned and men in hip boots would rake the bottom. This proved a bonanza for the people of the area: fresh fish was available for dinner! Many people waited at the pond’s edge for the fish thrown to them by the rake wielders. In time, we progressed to refrigeration and harvested our own ice in trays. Then the Duck Pond became a walk in the park!

Source: Alberta C. Ruckert, The Record 4/28/80 Photo: National Geographic