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MEMOIR II
ESCAPE FROM THE CITY
As a youngster I was a member of scouts for years, going from Cub Scout to Boy Scout and on to Explorer. Along the way I earned an Eagle Award and learned and explored many things a city boy would not normally encounter. One of the activities I enjoyed the most was the opportunity to go camping.
An hour’s drive northwest of Newark was a Boy Scout campground near Booton, New Jersey. My troop would camp there several times a year, mostly in the winter. Cabins of various sizes dotted the campground. The only source of heat was a fireplace and cooking was done on a wood-burning stove. One winter, the weather was so cold that the pipes to the old hand pump burst and we had to melt ice for water. It seemed the harsher the conditions; the more we enjoyed the outing. City boys were facing nature head on.
The camping trips were formal outings organized by the troop. The less formal day hikes to the local Boy Scout area located in the South Orange Mountain Reservation, would be organized spontaneously, when a group of us were just hanging around with nothing to do. For a group of boys ranging from maybe eleven to thirteen, these trips were a real adventure. The beauty of these outings was that the city bus could take us to the base of the mountain. No adult input was required, once permission to go was obtained.
We usually caught the bus fairly early in the morning because once we arrived at the base of the mountain; it was at least an hour walk up the mountain to the Boy Scout area. Sitting amongst commuters going to work or out to do some shopping, we were ladened with packs and canteens and any other camping paraphernalia we thought we might need. We rode through the Newark downtown area, then north through some of the blighted areas of the city, and finaly on to the more affluent suburbs. The bus would leave us in the shopping district of South Orange, where we would start to trudge up the hill to what us city boys considered wilderness. We hiked past stately homes with manicured lawns, a far cry from our homes in Newark. Finally, the houses were replaced with trees and the sidewalks with a dirt shoulder – we were almost there.
Our destination lay down a dirt road branching from the main highway. The area was large and open, set aside where scouts could build fires and cook their meals. Across a stream bordering the area and up into the trees, stood a few cabins for weekend trips. The day hike area was also supplied with a generous amount of wood provided by work crews trimming trees. For a bunch of boys who thought starting a charcoal fire by themselves was an adventure – this was nirvana.
Everyone’s lunch was usually consisted of hot dogs and foil-wrapped potatoes and onions. The fire built to prepare these meager meals was immense to say the least. Once everyone tired of throwing on wood, we had a fire too hot to approach to do any cooking. Either you waited for the flames to die down or had to find a very long stick to cook our hot dogs. Late afternoon found us journeying down the mountain to catch the bus home. People on the bus would stare at us for we smelled of smoke on our ride home to Newark
THE DESIRES OF AN OLD MAN.
NO GOING BACK
I want to go back
To right my wrongs.
I want to go back
To enjoy the moments,
The best moments
Of my life.
I want to go back
To experience the good,
And obliterate the bad.
I know this is a dream,
Impossible,
But in my dreams
The impossible
Is accomplished.
A NEWARK MEMORY
THE NEWARK DRIVE IN
Tucked along the eastern edge of Newark, in the shadows of the Jersey City and New York City bound bridges was the Newark Drive In. Surrounded by factories, junkyards and tank farms, the drive in was almost directly under the flight path of nearby Newark Airport, which at times, made listening to the movie something of a challenge. When approaching the drive in, you were greeted by the swampy, musty smell of Newark Bay. ‘The Dumps, ‘an area living up to its name, also boarded the drive in and added to the odors of its refineries and sewage treatment plants creating the ambiance of the area.
Our Newark drive in was a large are with a tall wooden fence constructed as its boundary and a total lack of landscaping of any kind, being true to the Newark life style – bare essentials are all that you get.
On warm summer nights the family would pack into the old Chevy, supplied with food and pillows and drive out to the drive in. The smaller kids would already be in their pajamas in anticipation of not making it to the second movie of the double feature. Being the oldest, I was given the opportunity to sit up front. In those days, the front seats being bench seats, there was plenty of room.
We would arrive at the drive in just before dusk, pay our money and be given the PIC and off we would go. PIC was an insect repellent product. A flat spiral affair. you lit the end and it would give off a pungent aroma daring mosquitoes to venture near. I really don’t know if it worked because we would also douse ourselves with insect repellent to ward off the visitors from the nearby swamps.
We’d find our spot and park the car at just the right angle on the mound that ran the length of the theater to get a perfect view of the screen for everyone. The smaller kids, in their pajamas, would head for the playground and run around till they couldn’t see what they were doing which also indicated that it was time for the movie to begin.
One movie I recall seeing was entitled Macabre. The movie was supposed to be so scary that you were issued a life insurance policy when you entered the drive in. It was good for the length of the movie and if you should be unlucky enough to die of a fright-induced heart attack during the movie you collected, or you next of kin anyway. The movie was a real bomb; the cartoon was scarier. I wondered though what would have happened if someone would have dropped dead of your usual run-of-the-mill heart attack. Would they have collected?
There was always an intermission between movies. Time to advertise the goodies available at the snack bar. The screen would be full of dancing hot dogs and talking cups of soda all counting down the fifteen minutes till the next show. The audience was your typical Newark crowd, the women in their smocks and the dads in their handlebar t-shirts. One snack that was advertised every time I went to the drive in was Flavo Shrimp Rolls. The only place you could buy a Flavo Shrimp Roll was at the drive in, they did not exist outside their gates. I’m sure you could get other shrimp rolls someplace, but I don’t think your typical Newark crowd, at this time, ate many shrimp rolls. But up there on the screen, after the hot dogs had danced off you could see the cartoon characters lining up for their Flavo Shrimp Rolls. I think we actually bought one once, only once. I used to wonder who looked at the crowd coming into the drive in and said to himself, “These people will buy up Flavo Shrimp Rolls like there’s no tomorrow.”
The Newark Drive In is gone now, long gone. Last I heard, a movie theater stands where the drive in once existed. And I’m sure with the demise of the drive in went the opportunity for anyone to buy a Flavo Shrimp Roll.
meditating on a closed homeless shelter…
A great poem catching too much reality.
the brown bag prophet
said
i live
in
the empty spaces
life’s
denied
moments
where eyes
avert
and
prayers
fall on deaf ears
i’m
not alone
there are
children
and
their parents
in
these spaces
parents
of
all sorts
atheists
bible thumpers
and
those confused
by
god’s words
and
his deeds
as
well
as
certified heroes
and
criminals
those ungainfully employed
and
otherwise destitute
by
their attempt
at
existence
all
forming
society’s sediment
sediment
along
these streets
paved
with human gold
and
blood diamonds
diamonds
worn
no doubt
as
symbols
of
heaven’s stars
but
more likely
as
hell’s burning embers
but
who’s to say
not those
of us
living
in
the empty spaces
permanency…
This is a poet every day
who deserves more attention.
I know many writers whose work
people would enjoy, but they remain unknown.
Enjoy this poet, and if you want to see some of
the work of the unknown, I’ll see what I can doe.
our naiveté
assures us we are unique
living forever
in one form or another
along with the tooth fairy
Curtain
This is a poet I’ve been following for some time
and enjoy his work.
Curtain
Adept at withdrawal, it retreats.
How appropriate, we think,
that its body curls
with the wind’s
tug, offering
only the
slightest
resistance. Then
it returns,
bringing to mind
the habitual offender
whose discomfiture
lies in choice,
the fear
of enclosure
removed. The
forward glance.
And back again,
whispering its
edict: concede, reclaim.
Give and take. We are as one.
“Curtain” last appeared on the blog in July 2017.
when the wheels come off…
We are not perfect. Perhaps only an experiment doomed to failure.
i cannot sleep
i hear
the night drums
pounding
within
my head
waking me
a
cold sweat
envelopes my body
in a shroud
of
fear
a civil war
is
coming
history
is about
to
be
repeated
once again
brother
against
brother
blood soaked
passions
will fill the gutters
of
hate and intolerance
a nation
poised
to
self-destructed
fulfilling
ancient prophecies
but
the dead
will not rise
nor
will the meek
inherit
the ravaged earth
they shall be
as
all shall be
the roadkill
of
man’s accelerated
greed
the twitter diet…
Could that be called ‘false news’?
lies and alibis
seem to be served up daily
a white house cuisine
June 16
This is a blog I have been following for years. Enjoy.
a bird picks at gravel
under the grape vines
they are producing this year
green-hued pearls
small and bitter
nothing much
but grit and potential
the birds won’t touch them
shrieking away
in a burnt out pine
the violence of nature
is arbitrary
unlike ours
familias unidas no dividadas
*
and when they were departed behold the angel of the Lord appeareth to Joseph in a dream saying arise and take the young child and his mother and flee to Egypt
when he arose he took the young child and his mother by night and departed into Egypt
now the LORD had said unto Abram get thee out of thy county
and Abram went down into Egypt to sojourn there for famine was grievous in the land
thou shalt neither vex a stranger nor oppress him for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt
if a stranger sojourn with…
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