It's October in 1961. Roger Maris hits his 61st homer on the last day of the season, breaking the record set by Babe Ruth. They put an asterisk next to it, because Roger gets 8 more games to do it in. Hardly seems fair, a season's a season after all.
In 2 months I'll be 10 years old, a lot of miles on this ride.
I'm a South Jersey boy, not southern New Jersey mind you. Yeah we live in the southern part of the state and all, but it's South Jersey if you please. We say "wooder", not "wahter", when we talk of H2O. It's a hoagie, not a hero, maybe a sub, but no grinders here. We've got lots of creeks, but for many of us it's a "crick", and we don't go to the beach, we go "down the shore".
When someone says they're going to the city- well, it's Philly they mean, not the Big Apple up north.
Our boundaries are the Delaware River and its bay, and the Atlantic ocean: sorry, the shore. Our northern boundary is kind of flexible depending on who you are. It could include all of Burlington County and parts of Ocean County too, but that's for you to decide, there's no fixed rule.
We drive past farms and small towns. Mullica Hill, Centerton, Swedesboro, Elmer. There are the sleepy counties of Salem and Cumberland, mostly rural and smelling of manure.
Take a walk through the pine barrens where wild orchids grow and cedar water flows in streams the color of freshly brewed tea.
The urban decay of Atlantic City down the shore and Camden on the Delaware; places that have seen much better days.
We will argue that no one grows tomatoes better than us; we can't wait for the taste of sweet white corn in the dog days of August.
Take a look back to see where we've been, take a guess about where we're going.
We'll take a break now, you and I. We'll sit in the shade with Whee-Zee by our side.
We'll hunt for soda bottles and take them over to the 7-11 for the deposit money and buy a candy bar or two.
Let's skip stones on the lake and soar down Chestnut Hill, and walk that same old trail to school.
Let's leave my red Rixe at the base of Freund's Cliff and we'll climb to the top to sit on the moss beneath the trees and ponder.
Stick with me as I catch my breath.
Then we'll hop on my bike and continue the ride....
2 comments:
I am Jim's cousin Joan. His Mom Mary is my aunt but seems more like a sister as we are only five years apart. Mary and I spent a lot of time together when we were both younger and I loved every second of that time. We rode bicycles and roller skated together when I stayed at my grandmom Gardner's house in Woodbury. Mary worked in my dad's bakery for a while and I loved that because it meant I saw her more often as I was growing up. I often went to her with my problems and she always understood. When she married Jim, Sr. I remember attending the wedding which was held in Grandmom Gardner's house. I also remember when young Jim was born and how happy everyone was. I spent some overnights with my aunt Mary and uncle Jim when I was a young teenager and I always enjoyed my times with them. My uncle Jim worked for the Pennsylvania Railroad and when I started working for the same railroad at the 30th Street Station, I would sometimes visit him in his office and talk for a few minutes. I still love going to my aunt and uncles's home on Walnut Avenue as we always have a wonderful time "remembering when".
When Jimmy started this "blog" he asked me to write something about my life in the bakery in Cramer Hill. As the oldest of five children of Bill and Anna Gardner, I had the privilege of working in the bakery when I was fairly young (10). I wasn't allowed to wait on customers because of the labor laws, that had to wait until later. Christmas was a very busy time at the bakery and we had a lot of boxed to put together in preparation for all the pies and cakes my dad made. His springerles and pfeffernaus were a tasty treat as were his pumpkin and mince pies. He roasted turkeys for customers whose ovens were not large enough to house the turkeys. One year the shelves tumbled down in the oven and all the turkeys came with them. What a job putting the turkeys back in the right pans. Hopefull everyone got their own turkeys! Of course there was the unpleasant jobs of washing all the pans at the end of the day - No dishwasher then! The oven for the bakery was located in the basement of our house under a portion of the backyard cement slab. Needless to say, we never had to shovel snow off that slab, the oven did the work for us. Back in those "good old days" we all helped out whenever we could and my Mom and Dad worked extremely hard to keep the bakery going. Remember the sticky buns and the cream donuts Jimmy?
Uncle Bill made the best cinnamon buns in South Jersey. Thanks, Joan
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