The 8th day of the first month of the year of Emergence

A lot of writers write things called the "Road back to (insert appropriate place or memory here)."   I know I fall into that trap or at least want to.  I had an email from a friend of mine who is a member of the "Deuces, One Eyed Jacks and Boat Ride Club" yesterday.  He is actually one of the founders of the club and we were discussing an article that reminded us of fishing in New Jersey when we were kids.

Now this would have been in the later sixties in the last century. For those of you in Rio Linda that would be the 1960's.   At any rate we all went to a middle income grade school called Wilson School, situated in a middle to upper income town of around 21,000 called Westfield, NJ.  Until we got our driver's licenses at the age of 17, our mode of transportation was "Buster Browns" or those thin tired English bikes.  I remember my first bike.............it was total freedom!  Man I had wheels!  And I took advantage of it.

No, well we aren't that old, at least not yet.  We had something that looked a little less fancy than what one would today loosely call a racing bike.

Of course we never wore helmets.  We were indestructible don't you know.  I am sure that my parents along with all my buddies parents got to know each other with constant phone calls just looking for their kids.  I know my parents did, God Bless um.  "Where the hell is he now?"  And we would be gone most Saturdays and parts of Sundays to Lord knows where.

With the added wheels we traveled in packs of anywhere from two to six depending what was going on. Not a gang mind you, but just friends that like to do things together.   If we were going fishing, only a couple of the guys would participate.  If we were going bow hunting, then all six might show up.  Again, not a gang because we were all budding sportsman and quasi athletes at school.  Clean cut kids from middle class families.  Even at that it still is a wonder that a) we did not kill ourselves or someone else with the bows and arrows, or b) weren't arrested for what today would be called terrorism.  This was and is a suburban town with not too much open space.  We "Hunted" in people's back yards for God's sake, shooting at anything that moved.  Just imagine that today.  It would make at least the local news if not national.

For my NJ buds, we fished the Rahway River for trout either in Cranford or along Rt. 22.  We hiked and camped out (illegally of course) in the Watchung mountains, in a park were it was illegal to do that. That park was also where we went when we had cars and needed a place to park with one's girlfriend (again amazing that we weren't arrested).  A good friend (not in the club) tells the story of a camping trip to said park.  He and two others were going to do an overnight.  You know with campfire, tents, and such.  Well around 11:00 pm it started to rain hard and they go soaked.   One walked to a pay phone and called his father to come and pick them up.  Well the father and another father figured to teach the kids a lesson and waited until around two in the morning to go after them.   They parked in a parking space, two men alone, two am, in the rain and waiting for their kids.  Of courses a cop came along and tapped on the window of the father's car.  These two guys were executives in New York City and were caught together in a car where kids went to park with girlfriends.  Needless to say, a lot of explaining happened.  Fortunately the bedraggled kids came out of the woods to support the father's story.  Good thing that!

 We fished bass in another park with a lake called Echo.  We shot our bows at a target range out along the Rahway River on Rte.  22.  Some club had set it up like a golf course and when they weren't using it, we were.  We also ice skated and played pickup games of ice hockey at the Echo Lake Country Club-----13th hole.  Our Wilson school pick up baseball team were destined to stick together throughout High School and we were pretty good.  Not state champs or anything like that and not all of us were first string.  That team was also the beginning of Little League in Westfield.  We put together the informal playground league which was the forerunner.  One of us would call a bud at another playground and it would be game on! I think there were three or four playground teams around such and Franklin and Lincoln schools.

We also skated at Mindawaskin Park in town, where we met other class mates, from the other side of town.  It was amazing what those bikes did for us.  The miles travelled would probably astonish even ourselves if we had been smart enough to measure them.  We never killed much with our bows and arrows but did catch fish just about wherever we went.  Most of them turned out to be inedible because of the water we caught them it, but all in all it was a good grounding.  In total, it was a very fortunate way to grow up!  We were blessed.