Clinton Township Newsletter

C L I N TO N TOW N S H I P N ews l e t t e r "We tend to forget that happiness doesn't come as a result of getting something we don't have, but rather of recognizing and appreciating what we do have." November 2013 – Frederick Keonig J u l i e F ly n n , E d i t o r "Sign Language" by ® EDITOR'S COLUMN Ruth Keesing I am sick and tired of signs with written instructions telling me what I can and cannot do. When I'm driving in the left lane and the sign tells me that I MUST turn left, my overwhelming desire is to proceed straight ahead. Alas, it's another of my growing personality flaws that are developing a life of their own. Years ago when I saw Dry Clean Only on a garment I wouldn't let a single drop of water touch its sensitive surface. Lately I've been sloshing such garments in a mix of Joy and warm water in the kitchen sink with a cavalier attitude of "Let the chips fall where they may." And, truthfully, I often tumble dry low as well, with no adverse effects. I gave up treating Do Not Remove Tags on mattresses as legal edicts several decades ago. The scissors come out and do their job before you can get a fitted bottom sheet out of the linen closet. Recently, the Engine Malfunction light glowed on my Honda's busy dashboard. Dare I drive to Flemington for a doctor's appointment? Should I risk going for groceries at a supermarket in Whitehouse Station? What about a quick trip to my favorite bank, Somerset, a few miles East? Could I do permanent damage to the transmission or was the light itself malfunctioning? It cost me $61.93 to find out the gas cap was not screwed on tight and some gizmo had to be reset by a computer. Wondering how I will react the next time Harold's dashboard glows to indicate trouble. My farm market warns Do Not Strip Corn. When I bring it home and find a family of worms chomping on several ears I am not a happy camper. What I do now, just between us, is strip and peek at the ears as furtively as an old lady can. Corn isn't cheap these days. Some signs make sense to obey. When a package of chopped sirloin cautions Do Not Consume After Use-By Date, I do not risk e-coli or ptomaine poisoning. When the bottle of Afrin nose spray has met its expiration date I toss it in the garbage quicker than new hairs on my head turn gray. I Never park in a handicapped space and I Yield to traffic every time. Obviously my world is becoming way too complicated. The other evening I had my usual glass of Scotch before dinner and then swallowed a couple of pills. The pill bottle instructions (no doubt to avoid numerous law suits) cautioned You May Have A Stronger Reaction If You Drink Alcohol While Taking These Pills. Seemed to me that was a good thing. I could derive bigger benefits from both the Scotch and the pills. Apparently I beat the odds because I slept all night with no bad dreams and no more scratching at a rash. Everything looked brighter by daylight. 85 years... and counting! Happy Thanksgiving! N o v e m b e r "The impersonal hand of government can never replace the helping hand of a neighbor." –Hubert Humphrey Whenever I daydream about having my family relocate to an area that's closer to North Hunterdon High School than our neighborhood (meaning, basically, every other one in Clinton Township) I realize, with a lot of gratitude, that I love our neighborhood – and I can't imagine leaving it. My neighbors are the type who look out for one another. When our third child was born, gifts mysteriously appeared at our door as if from the Magi. When my husband had an unfortunate run-in with a chainsaw (don't ask), in a flash our neighbor Eusillio was in our driveway, offering help. The Sullivans next door are like family (and I owe them about 12 cups of sugar and twice as many eggs). When I stop to talk to a neighbor on a morning or evening walk, oftentimes a handful of others will stop and, the next thing you know, a small crowd has formed, chatting away. When Hurricane Sandy ravaged our neighborhood, our neighbors were working non-stop, not only on their own properties, but also walking the streets offering to help one another in whatever way they could. Our neighborhood is one that attracts not only nuclear families, but families of families. As a person who has transplanted myself from a different part of the country, far from my own kin, I find it really satisfying knowing that I'm surrounded by extended families. The family of the sister of my neighbor lives around the block. And the family of his other sister? They live around the other block. Another neighbor's brother and sister and their families live within two blocks. Countless grandparents of the kids in our neighborhood also live within walking distance. Sometimes it feels as though more people are related here than not... and even if they're not related, they act as if they are. A real gem in our neighborhood is the Baptist Camp. Whenever we get a decent snowfall, everyone knows that a couple of hours later, sledding on the hill at the Baptist Camp is the place to be. Our residents are happy to help Hillary and Smitty keep the camp's trails clear–I also think our local guys just love driving those quads. With 110 acres of hills, ponds and forest within the camp to explore, my kids enjoy a country childhood in a suburban setting. Clinton Township... mixed with a touch of Mayberry. It's gratifying to see the young families move into our neighborhood (and it's hard to believe our children were ever that little.) Our neighbors are the type who settle and stay – they remember our children from when they were small (and we remember theirs). The 300 or so houses we have here constitutes a contented little village. It might not be quite as glamorous as some of the other parts of town, but it holds a lot of lot of good will. I think our neighborhood is the best neighborhood in town–and I fully realize that you probably feel the same way about your neighborhood too. On this Thanksgiving, I'm quite grateful for all of our Clinton Township neighborhoods! 2 0 1 3 –Julie Flynn 1

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