SOMETIMES BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE

Being back on Georgia soil was a great feeling, although we would miss our friends in New Jersey.   We rented a nice house in Conyers on Old Salem Road, which at that time, was largely countryside.  Sollie set about trying to establish his consulting business, the boys were in Rockdale High School, and Teresa was enrolled in Flat Shoals Elementary.  We were living on savings until we could get established with jobs.   After a few months in the rental house, we were able to purchase a home in Conyers, on a street where we would meet more of the best friends of our lives,  Frankie and Ray.

We joined the Salem Methodist Church, just up the road, and quickly found a new network of friends there.  Sollie was involved with the Men's Club and I, as I had always done, sang in the choir.   .  The church had a great youth program and I helped drive them around to sing Christmas Carols, cooked spaghetti, and got to know the other parents during the many outings.  The kids got involved with the youth group and my boys agreed, reluctantly, to be soldiers in their Easter program and they did a great job!  Our next door neighbors, who were fairly new to town, joined the church as well. 

It wasn't long before it became apparent that money was drying up and I had to get a regular job that would guarantee an extra income.  I went to work at the Clayton County Board of Education, in the Personnel Office, where our old school friend, Cliff Walton, was the Director of Personnel.  I had worked there briefly during the 60's and had the experience they needed for the job.   I commuted every day from Conyers to Jonesboro until a vacancy opened in Conyers with the Rockdale BOE and I was hired. 

Sollie and our next door neighbor, who had no experience in manufacturing, but had contacts with local banks, began to talk about going into the plastic recycling business. At that time, this was a totally new, and untouched area of the market with only two other companies in the United States doing recycling.   I'm very "security conscious" person about my "nest", and worried about putting our whole livelihood on the line in such a gamble.  I was petrified.  So,  we talked to our Minister, prayed together about it, and Sollie and his partner set out to beg, borrow, and steal enough money to commence their business with another leap of faith. 

There were people coming out of the woodwork who wanted to get in to the operation after our initial investment.   We found our fair share of shady characters who also promised the moon,  but were found to be not so reputable.  The local bank was skeptical, but agreed to wage their confidence in this new and upcoming business because of the increased volume of plastic goods in the world and the idea of recycling was brand new.    

The operation began with waste plastic yarn from carpet manufacturers and car batteries.  Hercules and Mobil Chemical were a couple of their suppliers.     The yarn waste sometimes came in huge, hard clumps of plastic and Sollie designed a large tub-like piece of equipment that would essentially work like a household blender and chop up the large chunks, breaking it down so it could be fed into the extruder, improving the operation down time.  He worked day and night.  Seven days a week, most of the time.   The next two years were definitely the most heart wrenching of our lives.     

Sol and his partner purchased used equipment because of the astronomical costs of new equipment and lack of big bucks needed for collateral.  It was either broken down, or didn't work at all, most of the time they were trying to produce a product.  They had business prospects running out the yazoo,  but couldn't stay in operation long enough to keep up with the orders.  One night,  an employee accidentally fell into the densifier , losing one of his legs.  Another time, Sollie was called at 3:00 am (a common occurrence) and while working in the electrical panel, his hand accidentally slipped, causing the panel to explode in his face.  He lost all the hair on his face and some from his head.  He face was badly burned and he drove home.  

He came in, woke me up telling me he was burned, and I jumped up, promptly fainting at the sight.  He picked me up, but while trying to find something to put on his burns, I fainted again and fell into the shower stall.  He picked me up again, and threw me on the bed, telling me to STAY!   Our son Jim, woke up and got him in the car and drove him to the hospital in Conyers.  The Emergency Room door was locked.  They couldn't get anyone to the door and had to then drive to Covington, to the hospital where he was treated and admitted.  He had nearly lost his eyesight.     After a couple of years trying to make it work, it was time to give it up.  We had to file bankruptcy.   Sollie and his partner went down to the plant and physically worked for days to produce enough product to sell to pay our lawyers to file our bankruptcy.  Personal tragedy seemed to multiply.

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It's amazing how many dishonest people can tag you when they think you're valuable to them.  We had our share during this time.  The final blow came when our attorney took the money we had paid him for filing the papers, somewhere around $1200, and we never heard from him again.   Just prior to the business closing, my Grandmother Elkins suffered a stroke in the nursing home.  At some point, she had been given a bath and scalded in a whirlpool tub and suffered 2nd degree burns on her buttocks and legs.  She could not speak, and ultimately was sent to the hospital, where she finally lost a foot and lower leg,  due to gangrene,  which set in because of infection from the burns. Two days after Granny was burned, my father, at age 62,  fell from the kitchen table, and died of an aortic aneurysm.   She died about three weeks later.  I believe she was about 82 years old at the time of her death.  

We managed to hire a personal friend, who was an attorney in Jonesboro, to file our bankruptcy but it meant another $800 we didn't have.  Our family life was in shambles and we had one son in college, one in high school and a middle school child.  We lost our home, a car, our main source of income, and a whole lot of dignity, but mainly we felt we had failed those who trusted us.  We had done everything we thought we were supposed to do, prayed about it, and had failed.  We had personally signed every bank note, and borrowed money from family.   We were as low as we could get.  Bad things do happen to good people. 

Sollie was immediately offered a job with Keller Industries, where he had begun the whole process of his career several years before, and we made our next move.  The hills and hollers of Williamsburg, Kentucky,  became our next home.    We were there only a year before they decided to close the plant down, but the good news is, that our son Jim met his future wife, Cathy, where she was an upcoming graduate of Eastern Kentucky College and they married just before we left Kentucky to head back to Conyers.  The 70's were coming to a close.   But, without all the bad stuff, we would not have our wonderful daughter in love and the beautiful grandchildren and great grandchild we have today.  I think it was a good trade.

I

MENDHAM'S LESSONS IN LIFE

Our years in Mendham gave us an opportunity to learn so much about people.  It was such a small area, yet it was right smack in the middle of so many opportunities for growth in mind and spirit.   The historical value of the area,  is one that is revered by the locals and you never see a home allowed to go into a state of disrepair that has anything of value to offer.  Mendhamites restored and repaired their homes and continued to raise their families where they were born and raised.  I don't know about now, but at the time we were there, schools were excellent.  They did not accept funds from the federal government and chose to run their educational system to reflect their needs and desires through taxation.  Money well spent.     Every child was treated the same way with respect to their abilities.   Crime was non-existent as far as we could tell.  Homes and cars were seldom locked.  Mothers looked out for all the neighborhood children and every home was always open to all of them.

The rolling hills between Mendham and Bernardsville were breathtaking!  The Roman Catholic Mallinckrodt Convent for the Sisters of Christian Charity sits high on a hill that overlooks the road below.   It was not uncommon to see the Sisters in town in full traditional religious habit.  There were churches of every denomination in the area.

As you continue on towards Bernardsville, there are mansions built in the Gothic Revival and Georgian styles that are indescribable.   Bernardsville Mountain was home to estates such as Peachcroft, Westover, Harmony Hollow, and Little Brook Farm.  Tall Oaks, a sprawling Georgian mansion was home to the swing era band leader, Tommy Dorsey, and was built in 1909.   Others, such as the George B. Post family and Mike Tyson have lived in the sprawling estates that line the road to Bernardsville.   A drive to Bernardsville from Mendam in the fall was simply breathtaking!

I can't remember how I became invited to join, but I became involved with the Espsilon Sigma Alpha or ESA, a philanthropical organization developed to provide assistance to established programs that serve human needs and produce new programs to improve the quality of life.  Our Chapter worked hard raising funds for St. Judes Childrens Hospital and I met some wonderful "sisters."  Through ESA, we were thrown into another circle of locals and enjoyed social events with them during our time there.

The boys were now either in, or approaching high school.  Teresa was still early elementary school, but we had some decisions to make about our future.  We were a long way from our parents, who were approaching their senior years.  With the end of the Vietnam war, Watergate scandal, sitting in gas lines to get a few gallons of gas, the bottom falling out of the real estate market and rise of interest rates,  along with the fatigue of a daily commute or week long business trips, we reluctantly decided to come back home to Georgia. 

Sollie had some business contacts and had gained a lot of experience.  He was well known throughout the plastic manufacturing industry as being one of it's best technical engineers.  So we hoped for the best and took that leap of faith.   We decided to locate in Rockdale County, another bedroom community of a metropolitan area where there were great schools and a small town atmosphere.   Although it was a growing community, it was safe and in close proximity to the airport.  United Van Lines was backing up to our door again.

It important for me to say, if there was discrimination against blacks, Jews, Hispanics, or any race, it was not obvious to anyone we knew.   It was a very diversified community with many different races and religions.  This little village, and the adjoining one of Brookside, in Mendham Township, represented the best of the best,  as far as we could tell.  They were the firemen, policemen, carpenters, shop keepers, and families who stuck together.  Proud people.  Good people.  Living here gave me the opportunity to see and know that main stream America exists and those who work together can accomplish their dreams for the future of their children.

Those same people, were at the threshold of a changing society with the rising prices of a piece of dirt and taxes to go with it.   Some are still there today in the homes  where they have lived all their adult lives.  Some have sold their home places and were able to retire to places where their dreams of retirement could come true.   The point is, people who want decent towns will plan and diversify when they have to, accept new people, live within their means,  and still have the most important things in life, their community.

OAK KNOLL AND A DIRT BIKE

I've always been a "nester" and not owning my own home is something that just didn't feel right.  We had sold our home in Georgia and made a small profit, but when we started looking to purchase a home in Mendham, our hearts sank.  There was no way.  Not only were the prices triple what they were in Georgia, but the taxes were astronomical.

 

I did some research in the newspapers and phone books and located a school in Parsippany that taught real estate sales.  The class was about six weeks long and then you would take a crash two day week-end course to prepare you for the state examination in Trenton.  At that time, real estate agents in that area were not allowed to write contracts,  so the sellers and buyers attorneys were always used for that.  Getting financing, if needed, was up to the purchaser and most of the people in that area already had the means and contacts at their banks to get their mortgage.  So, the agents, basically just showed the properties and made cold calls to get listings.  I could do that.

 

I passed the class, took the crash course, got on a train to Trenton,  passed the exam the first time,  and, poof, became a licensed real estate agent.   Passing that exam was quite an achievement for me.  I hate test taking, but I studied very hard and was confident I knew the material.   I made a few calls to Brokers, and found one in Basking Ridge.  It turns out, his office was the exclusive sales office for the newest exclusive development in Mendham called Oak Knoll.  Frank Yingling was the Broker and had two or three agents already working for him, but we worked out an agreement for me to work through his office to sell property.  This is the way I became friends with our next couple of best friends in Mendham.  Lucille, a husband and wife couple, The Ports, and I were the agents to cover Oak Knoll's model home.  The development had lots of three and five acres.  The homes were custom built and expensive! 

Lucille Cerra was already a licensed agent and actually lived in Mendham Township, just right up the road from Oak Knoll.  Lucille's husband, Frank, was a builder in the area.  As luck would have it, Lucille took me under her wing and helped me get my "feet wet."  Eventually, I would make a few sales in the Oak Knoll development, and another sale in another county and then the market went south.  It was a difficult time for a lot of people.  Especially real estate sales agents.

But, the good news was, Lu and Frank became such good friends and mentors to our family - just like the Beltons. They invited us into their home and circle of friends, and taught my children the "proper" way to eat spaghetti.   We visited their farm in Carbondale, PA, and later,  their home at the Jersey shore town of Sea Girt.  After we moved away, they visited with us and we visited them in Sun City, SC,  one summer when they rented a place there.  They ultimately retired to Aiken, SC.  We visited them there as well a few years ago, but sadly,  they have both passed away.   Their only son, Donald, carries on Frank's tradition and builds custom and "green" homes in the Aiken area.  He and I have become Facebook friends.

Frank and Lu were good folks and the salt of the earth.  They always were special to us and Frank became a mentor to my son Jim, taking him under his wing and taught him how to use a hammer and saw.   Frank taught him that the easy way wasn't always the right way.  He instilled in him the value of doing a good job at anything he did, even if it was raking leaves or cutting grass.  Jim always respected Frank's advice and remembers him to this day for his kindness to him.

Frank and Lu had a farm in Carbondale, PA, that was used for skiing in the winter and a dirt bike race track in the summer.  Our son Jim has always been his own man.  He worked a paper route, pumped gas, raked leaves, or whatever he could do to make his spending money when he was a teenager.  He had severe allergies which were found the first spring we were there when he came in from school with his eyeballs turned wrong side out.  He took allergy shots for many years which allowed him to survive cutting grass and raking leaves. 

 He wanted a dirt bike really bad but we had told him that he couldn't have one.  I always worried they were too dangerous and did not like him riding one.  He saved his money, working for Frank and all the other odd jobs he could and bought himself a bike anyway, and stowed it away at Frank and Lu's barn.  I imagine Frank was in on the deal from the get go, but wouldn't swear to it.  He was crazy about Jim.   If he knew, I'm sure he figured it was safe and maybe Jim just needed a little more time to work on me.   He was probably right. 

BIG BLACK STATION WAGON

If you didn't have a station wagon, you were certainly out of the ordinary.  We decided it was time was us to blend in, so we went down to some little town just over the line in Pennsylvania and bought us a fancy, black Ford station wagon.  It had a "way back' seat, a back seat and a front seat.  The kids fought over who got the "way back" because they knew my arms or even my switch wasn't long enough to meet it's target back there.   A station wagon was the SUV of the 70's and 80's and for good reason, if you had a family.

Before we purchased the station wagon, we tried our luck at family camping.  We had a normal four door car.  Trust me, a family of five can't put everything they need to camp in a tent in a four door sedan.  But, we tried.  Sollie fashioned a wooden box to hold the gear that would fit into the trunk to help organize the area for our regular stuff.

We made a few trips over to Lancaster County in the Amish Country to a nice little camp ground called Robin Hill,  with some church friends.  (We were going to a Baptist Church at that time, but that's another story)  After a couple of those short week-end trips, we thought we were skilled enough to set out of a week-long vacation and to our hometown in Georgia, camping in the Smokies along the way down and the outer banks on the way home.

We had to squeeze in as much time as we could so we drove all the way to Cherokee, NC for our first stay.  It was a pretty good place, with nice showers, and a lake for fishing.  It does rain a lot in the mountains,  however, and I think we may have had a total of 4 hours sunshine during our few days there.  We toured the village at Cherokee, and the kids got their pictures taken with a real live Indian, complete with feathered headband and leather boots and loin cloth.   By the end of the second full day, we were over our excitement.  The cots were not comfortable, the rain misted through the canvas and we were damp all the time.  The Coleman stove worked just like it was supposed to, but Sollie doesn't like to grill outside, so guess who wound up doing all the cooking?   Sitting in the hot, humid night air around a campfire was not my idea of fun.  The kids had tired of the fishing hole, and were cranky and didn't want to touch each other in the small tent where we were packed in like sardines.  The mosquitoes were big as buzzards at night,  but we did get them to catch lightening bugs one time. 

After a couple of days in our home town, we proceeded back up the interstate to our destination of Nags Head, NC.  It rained the whole way there, and after we unpacked and set up camp, it continued to rain, misting right through the canvas, making for a miserable, hot, damp and cranky  bunch of campers.  After a while, maybe a few hours enough to rest, we packed up that gear and headed home.  That camping equipment was never used, by us, again.  It brought a fair price in our garage sale just before we moved back to Georgia.  We were definitely over camping.  Period. 

One summer, I rented a cottage at "the shore" and we set out for a week at the beach.  True to form, Sollie was called to come back to the office, and he had to drive to Saddlebrook every day and back to the shore in the evening.  Not a great vacation.

I did a lot of day trips in the new station wagon to find my way around, after I realized that not everybody in NJ was in the Mafia.  One time, Teresa and I set out for some little town, just over the river,  to visit the Mother of the Pastor in our hometown of Swainsboro.  I found her home without a cell phone or GPS!  Just plain old road map.  Imagine that!  She was gracious and we had a good visit and got home in time for the boys to get home from school.  The drive over took us through some beautiful countryside with field stone houses, rail fences, and wildflowers.  Several towns in the area were worthy of driving to, just to view the beauty and hopefully get to see someone famous.  Peapack (yep, that's correct) was where Jackie Kennedy went to ride her horses.  The locals tried to keep up with when she would be there, hoping to see her.  There were other little villages with quaint houses and names like, Tewksbury, Schooley's Mountain, and Pohatcong.  All worthy of a short day trip to shop or just take a drive. 

Sollie had to go to Germany to the main factory and when he returned, I decided to surprise him at the JFK airport upon arrival.   I took the three kids, we loaded in the station wagon, and headed out for New York, after dark.  I had nothing but a road map and guts, but I drove there, and all four of us found our way to the gate to surprise Daddy as he got off the plane.  We drove home listening to all the stories about Dusseldorf, Germany and wondering how an uneducated country boy from south Georgia could be so lucky to have all the blessings and experiences of life in the city.   The answer is simple.  He was a genius at his trade.

BANDIT AND A GAGGLE OF FRIENDS

Being a stay at home Mom was nice.  But I was also, for all practical purposes, a single one.  Sol was between New York, Canada, the whole United States, and even Germany, once.   Even when he worked in their office, which has relocated to Saddlebrook, NJ, it meant a very long day for him.  He drove every day and had to leave home early in the morning and returned after dark.  It was a stressful job and a stressful life.   So we made the most of our week-ends doing fun things together.

Our friends, the Beltons, had a large group of friends, so they introduced us to the locals and our kids had friends almost immediately.  Rog, owned his own painting and wallpaper business and worked out of their home.  Teresa noticed that he seemed to always be around, especially since he kept his painting supplies in our detached garage.  She watched him and would hang around outside so she could talk to him.  One day, her curiosity got the best of her.  She said, "Mr. Belton, don't you have a job?"  Rog got a big kick out of that.  She had no idea that there were actually Dad's who didn't travel.  We all had a big laugh!

Rog and Honey had purchased some acreage in the upper northwestern part of New York state in a farming area of Chenango County, near a little village of Smyrna.  They were in the process of building a cabin and asked us to join them on several occasions.  Sol and Rog would do some work on the cabin and Honey and I would cook and entertain the kids.  They had two dogs, a beautiful Poodle, named Arpege, and a mongrel (I think) named Bandit.  Bandit wasn't fond of us.  Honey kept him leashed because she wasn't sure what his intentions were toward us.  Mainly towards Sol.  You know how dogs can feel your fear of them and intimidate you.  Well, Bandit knew how to get under his skin.  One morning, we were still in bed in our room, and all of sudden Bandit crashed through door barking and carrying on something fierce.  Scared the daylights out of me, but you should have seen Sol.  He was actually cornered between the bed and the wall and I never saw a grown man try to climb a wall before, especially in his underwear, but he was definitely making an effort.  We all laughed until we cried after Honey rescued us!

In the summer of 1973, all of us, - six of them and five of us - set out for the New York State Fair in Syracuse.  That particular year, Sonny and Cher were performing.  It was said that their performance drew the largest crowd ever.  The event was outside and Teresa was weaving her little self through the crowd toward the stage so she could see them.  Cher somehow noticed her and yelled out to the people "let that little girl through!"   Teresa thought she was really something special!  She had no clue who they were, but she sure wanted to see them.  Of course, we enjoyed all of the other entertainment and exhibits, but seeing Sonny and Cher perform was the highlight of this trip. 

We have such special memories of those summers, when two families worked and played together  in the rolling hills and mountains of Smyrna, New York.  Once in a lifetime experiences for a gaggle of friends!

BOY SCOUTS, GOOD FRIENDS AND AN APPLE TREE

It didn't take long to get in the swing of things.  We enrolled the boys in Boy Scouts, bought all their camping and hiking gear, got a cute little red snow suit for Teresa, and purchased ice skates and sleds for the whole family.

 

Behind the elementary school was a steep hill which was covered with several inches of snow.  It was the best place around for sledding and we enjoyed many week-ends during the winter sledding down the hill and pulling it back up again.  The kids loved it, but a little bit of that went a long way with me.  It was more of a spectator sport for me, as was ice skating.   One time, one of the local younger boys lost control of his sled, and sped to the bottom of the hill and landed in a brier patch.  Tim, who was racing down the hill,  saw the accident and ran over to see about the little boy.  He wasn't hurt,  but I think  he was pretty scared and crying for his Mother.  She skidded down the hill and brushed him off and hugged him and turned to Tim to say, "Young man, thank you so much for your help!  You have real character!"  Made me so proud of my young man!

Indeed, all of the the teachers that first year, were so complimentary of my boys and their manners.   Most, but not all, teachers commented on the fact that they said "Yes, Mam" as they had always been taught by us to do.  For some reason, it isn't exactly a term that children use for respect in the northeast.  But most teachers understood it from them as it was intended.   Anyway, I was always proud of the respect my children showed adults.  It validated my efforts to teach them manners and be a good parent.  As they grew older, they picked up the "Jersey" lingo,  so they wouldn't be teased by their peers.   But they were never, ever disrespectful of anyone.

The boys were all excited about all their new camping gear and found out that we had moved there just in time for a hike to Jockey Hollow, a unit of the Morristown National Park Service where the Continental Army camped during the Revolutionary War.   This would be Jim and Tim's first hiking experience of any length since becoming Boy Scouts.  Wearing new hiking boots on a long hike from Mendham to Morristown was not the best idea since the Scout Leader had to phone us to come get one of them whose feet were swollen and bleeding from blisters.

 

But, they quickly found their niche in Mendham and played ice hockey,  went ice skating, sledding, and eventually, when they broke in their boots,  hiking became fun.  One year, they attended a week long camp in the Pocono Mountains with the Scouts, and also enjoyed many outings at the Schiff Boy Scout National Headquarters in Mendham Township.   Schiff was used for training films for the Boy Scouts, and my sandy haired, freckled face Tim was included in one of their films.  He looked like a kid straight out of Normal Rockwell paintings.   We had a "movie star" on our hands.  It was said that Norman Rockwell had been a visitor and used the camp as an inspiration for some of his scouting illustrations.

 

We have a family legend about the kids and me going out to Schiff once when the roads were filled with snow and ice.  The entrance to the reservation went over a brook and just before the bridge, my little VW bug, slipped sideways almost in the ditch at the water's edge.  Quick as a flash, four year old Teresa, who was standing up in the back floorboard, scrambled out of there so fast I hardly could see her.  She figured if that car was going in the water, it would be without her.   I got the car straightened out on the road and she reluctantly got back in.

 

The local swimming hole, a small pond, was used in the winter for ice skating.  Sometimes families would build bon fires and roast marshmallows with the kids.   All the locals, kids and most adults, were masters at ice skating and sledding.  Us, not so much.  Somewhere, I have priceless movie films of our little family, falling and getting back up again,  on the ice covered pond on a beautiful, bright sunny day.   Teresa in her little red snow suit would topple over,  and it was so tight around her, she couldn't bend to get back up.  Jim and Tim trying to look cool with their hockey sticks, scarfs, and toboggans. Typical all American families being together and having fun.  Summers were spent there for swimming lessons for the kids and family beach time.

  

Our Landlords, the Belton's, became our best friends,  as they had children near the same age and we had a lot in common.  The first Thanksgiving we were there, they took us into their large fold, and we sat around a huge Thanksgiving table,  as if we belonged to this large, happy family.   Honey's Mother and Father, Mr. & Mrs. Parillo lived just a block away.  Those Italians take homemade spaghetti to a whole new level!   In addition, Honey's sister, "Sis" was married to a Lutz, a German baker and they owned the local bakery.  They also lived within a block from us.  Add German pastries to Italian pasta and southern potato salad and deviled eggs,  and you got yourself some good food!  We were beginning to feel like we belonged! 

Rog's Mother passed away not long after we moved to town, and they asked us if we would like to live in her home,  next door to them.   We were thrilled to be offered the lovely home, and so we left the big two story apartment and moved into this yellow, dutch colonial style home, complete with a real apple tree in the back yard and right across the street were the tennis courts and ball field where all the local activities were held.    Perfect.

FIRST THINGS FIRST

When you move to a new city, there are always adjustments to be made.  You have to locate all the important places, like schools, churches, banks, doctors offices, post offices, and the like.  You have to get a new drivers license, license plates, and register to vote.  If you're lucky, you have relatives or friends in the area that are available to help and advise you.   Our move to an area considered a bedroom community of New York  was frightening to me, to say the least, and I sure didn't have anybody to call on. 

We knew no one, but I am known to be fearless when it comes to finding my way around and in no time, had the drill down pretty good about getting the boys to school, getting to the grocery stores, and doctors offices.    Mendham, at that time, was a small, quaint little town where the whole town knew everybody.  Newcomers were welcome, but you had to find your own way into the right circles.   Once you did, you were included.  One claim to fame is the fact that Mendham later became the home of Whitney Houston and the current Governor Chris Christy resides there now.

My first real project to become a valid "Yankee," was to register our vehicle and get my driver's license.  I managed to find out from the phone book where to get this done and one day while the boys were at school, I took off to get this chore behind me.  I sure didn't want to be stopped by the Police in New Jersey without a valid drivers license.    My youngest child was too young for school, so I had her with me.   I found the offices easily, and proceeded inside.

There was a line of people all the way out of the room and down the stairs - not uncommon anywhere you go in NJ.  We got in line.   Finally, when we got to the door, there was an officer who stopped me and said, "you can't take her in there."  I looked at him dumbfounded and said, "what do you mean I can't take her in there?"  Says he, "children aren't allowed!"  At this point, I'm getting a little bit flustered, knowing that I had no where to leave her.  I tried to explain to him, that we were new to the area, my husband was away on business, and I had nowhere I could leave my four year old daughter.  I told him she was a very obedient little girl and wouldn't make a sound, and  all I wanted to do was get my drivers license and license plate.      He very rudely said, "Mam, that's not my problem!"  I was practically in tears.  I got the forms and the hours they were open and left.    Oh, and did I mention that they were only open a couple of days a month for license testing? 

Not to be deterred, I waited a couple of weeks until the next time they were open, picked up the boys right from school and zipped to Morris Township where their offices were, hoping I could get there before they closed.    I was scared to death, but left the two boys in charge of the four year old in the car in the freezing cold, and dared them to move an inch until I got back.   Back to the line that snaked all the way up a flight of stairs.  Old mean -face was right in his place at the door and acted like he didn't know me from squat, but I remembered him.  But I wasn't pushing my luck.  I got inside, took the test for my license, thinking it would be a piece of cake.  Epic fail!!  Oh Lord!  I cried all the way home.

I got out the study guide for the test and studied like crazy, thinking to myself that I would never pass the stupid test.  Two weeks later,  I went back to school to pick up the boys, raced to the DOT office, where I gave instructions to my children that to disobey me or to start fighting, was to surely die.  Then I locked all three of them in the freezing cold car, and went back to the snake line up the stairs, mean-face man, and proceeded to take the test! This time, I aced that sucker and marched right past mean-face, smiling all the way down the stairs and out the door! 

Now, I was a card carrying, registered, and licensed driver in the great state of New Jersey!  Not sure, but I think the kids gave me a round of applause! 

BONA FIDE YANKEES!

Travelling on the New Jersey Turnpike at any time of year is a gruelling and scary experience.  Travelling in January when you aren't used to snow and ice is downright terrifying.   Here we are, looking like the Clampetts, whizzing along in Delaware in freezing rain and icy roads with what I'm sure, were hurricane force winds.  (We later learned to call that a "Nor'easter." )The kids were loving the snow!  I was biting my fingernails to the quick, stomping the floor where there should have been breaks, and screaming "watch out!"   It was not pretty. 

Somewhere along the way, we decided that maybe we might do like the Yankee's do, and get ourselves some snow chains.  We stopped at some little town along the way, got those ugly things put on our tires, and off we go again, just like we belonged there and knew what we were doing.  When we arrived at our motel in Parsippany, we were beat, but the kids were wired.  I sat in the Howard Johnson's Restaurant watching the millions of people and thought to myself, "what in the world have we done?"  I just knew every one of those cars carried Mafia bosses and we were in big trouble living in a place way out of our comfort zone. 

Sollie and I had found a four bedroom apartment in the Borough of Mendham when we went up for his interview.  It was in a beautiful old home on the Main Street, with a couple of acres of ground with a barn, a wrap around porch, and huge trees.  Our apartment was located on the second and third floors.  It was plenty big enough for us, clean, and the owners, Honey and Rog Belton, were wonderfully cordial.   Their family would become our family, away from home.  We remain our friends to this day.  They retired many years ago to Naples, FL.
 
I enrolled the boys in school at Hilltop School, a large old brick school building within walking distance for all the town kids.  Teresa would start Kindergarten the next fall there.  In the meantime, we settled down in our new home and waited for spring.

Sollie got himself all dressed up in his fancy suit and tie and his nice leather brief case, which we had purchased for him, and set out to learn to be a "commuter."  He had to drive to Morristown, get on the Erie Lackawanna train to Hoboken, change trains, get on a subway, and then walk to his office on 42nd Street.   He was picked up for a week or so by his boss who lived in Chester, a few miles up the road,  so he didn't really have to worry about getting lost.   Then came the day when he had to go alone.

That night, it got dark, the peas had turned to bullets, (something that happened for many years to come) and I finally put the kids to bed.  I had no way of finding out where he was and I was getting mighty worried.  I stood at the window and watched the snowy street below, worried that he'd had an accident or gotten mugged.   Finally, I saw him pull into our driveway and I've never been so glad to see him in all my life!  He'd had a few problems finding the right subway, a few problems finding the right trains, and yep, he'd missed the station call for Morristown and had to ride the train to the end of the line and back.  His new shoes were stiff as boards, and his toes were actually bleeding!    I don't think he ever missed another train or station again.

On Easter Sunday, I had all our spring clothes and my new straw hat laid out for Church and the kids Easter baskets filled with candy.   I guess I figured some magic weather man would change the weather overnight to spring. It was late March, but it was Easter, for goodness sakes.  We got up to find 10" of snow had fallen overnight.   Have you ever tried to hide Easter eggs in a four bedroom apartment on the second and third floors of anywhere?   Well, we did.  We were bona fide  Yankee's now! 

JERSEY BOUND!

The latter part of the 1960's, we made a move back to Swainsboro, our hometown.  The boys were in elementary school, grades 2 and 4 and our baby girl was a cute little toddler who captured the hearts of everyone she met.  She charmed us all with her cute little mispronounced words.  I had control over her attire then and she was dressed in leotards and smocks and bows in her hair when I could get them to stay there.   The crotch of the leotards resided somewhere around her knees.  She would later rebel and to this day, would rather be hog tied,  than to wear leggings, panty hose, or bows.

When I started working, I enrolled Teresa in Mrs. Canady's Day Care, the most sought after place for day care in the whole town.  Mrs. Canady ran her little day care school out of her home on South Green Street and she ran a tight ship.  A staunch Christian woman, with short hair and coal black eyes,   she had two black eyed little girls and a little boy of her own that mixed right in with the others.  Sometimes, Mr. Canady was there to help with the "herd."   All children were taught table manners, respect, sharing, and courtesy.  She would gather them all around her kitchen table for nutritious snacks and meals, which she prepared herself.  Each meal began by blessing the food and she often told Bible stories during this quiet time around the table.  When my daughter was just four years old, in her own version of English, she could recite the entire books of the Bible.  Oh, how the parents and the children loved this woman!

Jim ad Tim were part of the transitional years of desegregating all schools.  It was a very difficult time for all families making the adjustments of changing school locations, particularly when it meant children were being moved from the schools that probably their parents had attended, and in their comfort zone.  I remember that schools actually closed for a while in order to transition the children from buildings to buildings.  To say is was chaotic, would be an understatement.  It was new territory and the air was tense.

One day, I received a call at work from the school that Tim was missing.!  WHAT?   Of course, I was frantic and jumped in the car to rush over to the new school location across town.  Tim was nowhere to be found.  We lived miles from the school location and the Administration was very upset about a child "escaping" from school, but they were not nearly as upset as I was for them letting him "escape."  And "APB" went out at school for Tim searching every nook and cranny of the building.  I started to drive slowly along the route from school toward our home taking the logical route and that of the school bus.  About halfway home, I spotted my sweaty, dusty, and dirty little boy with his ever present shirttail flagging in the wind, hustling his way down the road toward home.  I didn't know whether to kiss him or kill him!  He allowed as to how "the desk stunk!"  Oh Lord!

These two little guys knew no fear other than their Momma.  Jim, managed to slice open his finger while whittling a golf ball and tried unsuccessfully  to hide the bloody wound from me.  (Guess he figured he didn't want to hurt in too many places.) Other than his OCD about his "stuff," he was very neat and marched to his own drum.  I could count on him coming home from school looking fairly close to the way he did when I sent him to school.  Tim, not so much.  Curious to see what would happen, they once doused a frog with gasoline (which we thought was carefully stored) and lit a match (which I have no idea came where it came from) watching the helpless frog jump across the road.  Not sure if this was the day that the broom sage caught fire, but a good neighbor helped me put out the flames with the garden hose before the whole town was in on the deed and the fire department showed up.   I remember crying buckets of tears over this one, 'cause I just knew I was raising a couple of monsters.

Sol worked for a new local manufacturing company that made webbing for folding lawn chairs,  a popular item during that era.  Plastic was an upcoming new medium, and this company has quite a large factory with new equipment made in Germany.  The process is called "extrusion" - meaning that the machine took in the raw material on one end and extruded it the other end.  Sounds pretty simple, but actually is a very complex process and requires a lot of mechanical and technical ability and expertise.  The average person has no idea how most of the items made of plastic are actually produced and the precision required to produce it.   Some of those machines could fill a house!

Reifenhauser US Sales Company, a fairly new company,  had offices in downtown New York City.  They sold the equipment made by the parent company in Germany, and their personnel installed and initiated the start up operation for their customers throughout the United States and Canada.  They knew a good thing when they saw it.  Sol had all the qualifications they wanted and they offered him his dream job.   This was the beginning of a career in the plastic industry offering him new opportunities, rare experiences, dreams, headaches, and heartaches.  In January 1970, United Van Lines packed us up and moved us to our new home in a small town that seemed like the end of the earth.  Mendham, New Jersey!