On Every Street

My street had the usual cast of characters growing up. They included: Billy, John, Pete, Steve, Paul, Beeb, and the brothers and sisters that made their homes a family. And that was just our immediate neighbors. It seems our parents were doing more than working back in the 50s. 

Most of our time was spent outside, barefoot, in the street. Our yards were dirt with grass spots from overuse as a driveway for a car or machine. As the years passed, we would still be there, but as teens playing curb ball, throwing anything that would fly or just bullshitting about some a girl we thought was pretty. Then we would move down the street about 100 feet and start over again in the new location. We did and said the same things over again, but it felt fresh. 

We would make our way to the woods (now two houses) and head into our fort where we looked at Playboy magazines we had slipped out of our homes, while we coughed on cigarettes. It wouldn’t be long before beer and weed made their way into the fort. And it wasn’t long after that, and the fort was gone. Someone had bought the property and put a house on it. Today there are two.

The blue-collar side streets of Rumson had begun a transition that continues at an accelerated pace to this day. Now white-collar people spend a million bucks to live in that neighborhood, the blue-collar folks sorted out as the pay gap widens, and the” have nots” have less of the smaller pie. 

WW2 ended yesterday 75 years ago. The people on Blackpoint Road and the North end Avenue of Two Rivers were the sons and daughters of those men and women of my parents’ generation. We are their sons and daughters and are now old enough to look back and tell a story or two. Have fun.

Peace, chris

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