Clinton Township Newsletter

1 N o v e m b e r 2 0 1 7 Since 1982 When something triggers my nostalgia button I get carried away with thoughts of the "good old days." I enjoy being transported to those times when life was simpler and love and respect and patriotism were par for the course. I still remember when all of us high school girls had to wear very ugly uniforms for gym class... when I'd bend over to pick up a penny in a puddle. We always left the car keys in the ignition when our Studebaker sat in the driveway waiting for passengers. The door, of course, was unlocked. Yesterday, when I couldn't find my Honda's key I had thoughts of having to get a replacement key to the tune of $50 plus. (That was about the cost of our monthly mortgage payments when we lived on Westfield Road in Scotch Plains in the 50's). Clothes were different for sure. We mostly wore dresses, not slacks, and kept our tummies tucked in with the help of panty girdles. Spanx are what we promised the kids when they misbehaved. Nylons came with seams up the back and we hitched them onto the panty girdle with garters. They bore no resemblance at all to Liza Minnelli's outfit in Caberet! My shoes varied from black patent leather Mary Jane's to brown and white saddle shoes to loafers with pennies stuck in the top flap. Those pennies were supposed to provide security if our date dumped us mid- evening. Even then a penny couldn't make a phone call or provide bus fare. Mom would say "Go outside and play" and I knew how to do that. I had a bike and a hula hoop and plenty of nearby friends. When the subject of race came up it referred to who could run the fastest. My son played for hours with cowboy and Indian play sets. War and Battleship were board games. Saturday mornings in April found a bunch of us wearing our dads' old long-sleeved dress shirts hanging low over our dungarees washing neighborhood cars with a garden hose for 50 cents each. When we played ball at a nearby park there were NO adults around to supervise or coach. It was just for the fun of swatting a ball. We chewed Black Jack or Clove gum. Do any of you remember those treats? Movies were most often "Lassie" or "The Lone Ranger" and seldom had explosions or shoot 'em ups or loose body parts though, I must confess, Jimmy Cagney and Edward G. Robinson were not saints. I think we all would have had a case of the vapors had we witnessed Lady Gaga's Super Bowl performance. We didn't carry on like that behind closed bedroom doors. (I can really only speak for myself!). No wonder I recall those lost times with such reverence. It was the best of times. Is there anyone amongst our readers w h o r e m e m b e r s A l f r e d E . Neuman? Over the course of my 51 years, I've learned to appreciate the minutiae of everyday life. Various hardships, crises and (minor, first-world) suffering has given me an appreciation for those days when everything seems to be going right... when all is mellow... everyone is serene. These are the days I cherish almost as much as the big events. These past two months were particularly unreal. Due to Hurricane Irma, I feared for my family and friends in Jacksonville, Florida, and I didn't recognize the aftermath photos taken in my beloved hometown. Between Harvey, Irma and Maria, Las Vegas and then California – just unbelievable. In this month of Thanksgiving, I would like to once again run one of my favorite pieces of writing, sent to us by our friend Char. It's from a church bulletin from the 1960's, but it is still so relevant today – perhaps even more so. A NORMAL DAY Just a normal day... A Normal Day! It is a jewel! In time of war, in peril of death, people have dug their hands and faces into the earth and remembered this. In time of sickness and pain, people have buried their faces in pillows and wept for this. In time of loneliness and separation, people have stretched themselves taut and waited for this. In time of hunger, homelessness, and want, people have raised bony hands to the skies and stayed alive for this. Normal Day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it will not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want more than all the world your return. I hope you all have a blessed Thanksgiving Day with your families and friends, and I also hope you take some time to appreciate the "normal" days, too. Happy Thanksgiving! – Julie Fl�nn "Gratitude is riches. Complaint is poverty." ~ Doris Day

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