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.