January 2006

Well readers, this column is taking a slight departure from the adventures of the Huck Finn gang. No hunting, ice skating, sleigh riding or tales of that sort. Of course most of our free time, after homework was done, was spent seeking adventure wherever we could find it -- Branch Brook Park, the Silver Lake lots, or the Second River swamps.

Or if we were visiting Grandma, we had the stream where the Tarzan vines grew, the two ponds -- one where I witnessed my first covey of wild Quail flushing up out of the weeds all around me, the other in a patch of woods where most times you could jump deer bedded in the Honeysuckle that grew at one end, or the trail through the field along the Raritan Canal that paralleled Easton Avenue.

But if I may, I'd like to take you back to the hand-me-down era. This didn't just happen within the family, you know relatives, hand-me-downs. It happened in the housing project, Stephen Crane Village, where my brother Carl and I grew up. Our neighborhood, like a family of sorts, shared clothes and bicycles, strollers, carriages and anything else.

Back then you had to wear "dress" clothes to school on Fridays. The boys had to wear ties! Some of the boys even wore sport jackets or suits! Friday was assembly day, when classes put on plays or were given special awards.

Now about those hand-me-downs.