Some of my favorite rides with my family growing up were in a big, green Buick Electra. The model...
Yard parked. Our property had no front driveway in the ’60s. Over time, stones and railroad ties outlined the channel for the car. The creosote on the ties smelled for a long time after they found their way into the ground. Today, it is the first place to park, provided you have a nice car. Oh, so Rumson.
Growing up in Rumson put you 26 miles as the crow goes to Wall Street. The town has a plethora of...
My family endured the poison pellets of three deaths in five months last year. It was painful and tiring but, that’s life. We experienced a lot. An unintended consequence was sorting through the mountain of stuff that made its way into our hands. I had told my parents we didn’t want things as we have a beautiful home filled with items we collected ourselves. Every day, I went to their house for seven months, filled 14 dumpsters, and sold or gave away most of their belongings. It made many others happy, which was the goal and represented their legacy well.
Somehow I always ended up in the Sea Bright Public Beach parking lot where I pulled up to the bulkhead that ran north to south. It was low enough so you could peer over and see the small jetty off Donovan’s. That would tell you if the ocean’s heart was beating. Soon after I was able to drive, I headed to the public beach every day for a fix. One day after pulling in, I jumped out of the car to get a better look, locked the door, and walked towards the water. Unfortunately, the car was running.
Hey, yesterday was my last daily for the Covid 19 sessions which I began three months ago. I hope...
I became legal in December of my senior year at RFH. This meant we could drink legally in great local places like Val’s and Briody’s, but the hit of that winter of 78/89 was Chubby’s. We poured into the place and often got carried out as we were as experienced with drinking as online traders are today on Robinhood.;)
When you settle an estate and dig through the stuff someone else thought was important enough to keep around, it is good to give pause and try to figure out why. The watch was my grandfather’s, passed to my mom, and made its way to me from the bottom of a dusty metal box. It was never intended for me, or it would have been given to me when everyone associated with it was still alive. But it made its way from an old man’s arm to his favorite grandson. That’s cool.
But I think I have found a bright light at the end of the tunnel. I saw an ad last night for a lawyer looking for people who have been abused by priests. This tells me at least one person in the CNN ad department thought it was a good idea to take this lawyer’s money so he can help those poor people and put a bad guy in jail.
The trip began from Pauls Boats in Rumson. We could make the trip out, fish, and get back after work and before dark in the summer. I remember bouncing around in our boat as we passed over the shoals several times with our lines in the water. Trying to maintain your footing in a heaving boat with a fish on the line was always an extra challenge. Mom would make Chicken Kiev and wrap it in tin foil to maintain the heat. (Who the hell eats Chicken Kiev fishing on a boat, near capsizing, on a shoal outside NY Harbor? My mom was an excellent cook, and Dad liked to eat). I recall watching him biting the Kiev balls right out of the tin foil wrapper, butter running down his face and onto his shirt, the other hand steering the boat.