Don, 1935
By Don
Only in retrospect have I realized that my childhood involved a level of freedom not recognized by today’s five-year-olds. At age four I could ride my tricycle a full block away provided I did not cross the street. Straining at the bit, I disobeyed and was stopped by “Johnny the Cop” who made me walk my tricycle across the street. I wanted to ride across so the next time, I stopped three houses down from his beat and rode across the street. He told my mother.
We played outdoors all day. No TV, no radio, just outside. My mother went to the grammar school to argue that I should be allowed to enter kindergarten with my friends. The school said I missed the age group by a few months. My mother won the argument. So I got to hobnob with older kids and walk to school six blocks away.
It seemed natural that each year I expanded my world and roamed farther and farther from home. I came home for lunch and returned to school. On non-school days, I came home for lunch and then again disappeared into my very own world, being sure to depart for home “when the street lights came on.” At age seven with the advent of a full size bike, the world further expanded. Initially the big bike was a challenge in that once I stopped, I had to find a big rock or high curb or sewer grate that could give me a boost up to start
No one knew where I was, what ropes I swung on from what tree, that I snuck into the local amusement park, which local park drew me, which friends I found block after block after block. No one knew which streams I waded in, which ponds I built rafts in, where I chased rabbits and turkeys, or caught tadpoles. When I later read Tom Sawyer, I thought my life was much more exciting, except for Injun Joe.
After Pearl Harbor, my friends and I scoured the area for scrap metal. We filled our wagons and took our loot to collection bins, doing what we thought was good for the war effort. I mounted two flashlights like headlamps on the bike and began staying out later. I fixed my own flats and when it snowed, I put homemade chains on the rear tire and looked forward to driving on snow pack.
Around that time, I was given a white rabbit for Easter. Of course I named it Peter and built a hutch in the backyard. I used to follow some railroad tracks, sneak into the railroad yard, and climb into a freight car that was full of loose rabbit food to take some home in bags that I brought. My father knew Peter was not a male and one day he went to a pet store and left Peter for a day or two. Wow, I now had three little white bunnies! I found a way to make a small cage for my wagon, put Peter and family in the cage, and towed my wagon via my bike to a few parks. Yes, I was a big hit.
There was a small stream leading to a very large pond in a reservation. I discovered it about five miles from home and that started my fishing days. We sometimes fished a lake near Newark. It was there that I remember lying on a bank, waiting for a fish to bite and looking up at the constant overflights of planes from Newark Airport. That led to bike trips to Newark Airport where for three cents in a machine, one could listen to real pilots talk and watch planes land and take off.
At age 12, I joined the Boy Scouts and my parents sent me to Camp Ken Etiwa Pec in the Kittatinny Mountains. That started me hiking. By age 14, I hiked the Appalachian Trail for many miles, camping as I went with other scouts. We spent one November day and frozen night in a storm that the weather folks said had 150 MPH winds and heavy rain. We knew it was bad as we passed by a lake atop a high ridge and noticed three foot high waves from the wind. We took the train home to Maplewood. Our story was printed in the Maplewood News.
All this was without a cell phone, Facebook, Snapchat or Twitter. We had our own communication device. It was conversation with our peers. There were arguments and fights but we always resolved thing by talking it out. I don’t remember any bullying whatsoever. We chose teams and played baseball in the street or at a diamond in a park. We all had helmets and shoulder pads and played tackle football. I was usually chosen next to last. My mother recognized my poor hand-eye coordination and quietly played catch with me in the backyard to help me. By junior high (7th grade) I was playing basketball. Not a good shot but I hustled. I actually went to Yankee Stadium before I saw a game on TV.
By the time I got my driver’s license, I knew by memory every road in northern NJ, having been everywhere on day-long bike trips, week-long camping and fishing trips, or family car trips to summer lakes or winter skating and skiing. I also made a handheld sail to use on skates at Budd Lake. I had to dump the sail before I got to the far end of the lake where there was open water.
There is a short book called Change of Idols by John Taintor Foote (1935) about a teenage fisherman who discovers girls. So my next story will be titled...wait for it...Don does puberty...Grampaw