My Real Life

Disclaimer: I’m going to mention things in this post that won’t mean anything to you if you didn’t grow up in the same town where I grew up. However, I think this is a post that many people can relate to, just in different ways. So, read on!

On Memorial Day Weekend, we went to two parades, as Baby Monkey is in the Marching Band and we always want to support the team. (Longtime readers, yes, Baby Monkey, kid #3 is 17 and a junior in the Marching Band)

The second of the two parades was in my hometown. The town where I spent my formative years. The town where I shopped, hung out, and worked my way through high school at the local department store.

And, as Real Man and Tiny and I stood there, waiting for the parade, I had a moment to just pause and look around.

I mean, I’m in town all the time. Driving through, going to the rehearsals at the church where I grew up, and still ring handbells. Grabbing some Starbucks, dropping someone off to see their friends, collecting Pokemon with Tiny.

But, I’m always doing something and I’m never just absorbing the atmosphere. That day, I did.

I grew up here, in Morristown. And I loved this town. I still love this town, but it dawned on me that the town in which I grew up no longer exists, and that the kids who are growing up here now, the kids who I teach, are having a markedly different experience than I did.

The center of our town is called “The Green.” Historically, it’s an important piece of history, as George Washington and his troops stayed in Morristown from January through May of 1777. There are historic sites all over our town from our little piece of the Revolution. We even have statues of Washington, LaFayette, and Hamilton in the middle of the green as they discuss steps forward with the nation that was about to emerge.

The green, itself,  is still there, and with the exception of some beautification efforts, looks largely the same. Traffic still moves around the green in it’s own unique way, despite the fact that my students no longer have part of their driver’s ed class at the high school dedicated to the rules of the green, which have been etched on my brain for life. 

Don’t you dare try to move around the green in lane 2…one lap and you gotta move to lane 3, people!

The streets that encircle (or “ensquare”) the green, however…are a different story.

We would go into town after school and on the weekends and get milkshakes at Woolworth’s. We would buy stickers at Goffins or Razzmatazz. We worked our way through high school at Epstein’s, the local department store. We shopped at Bamberger’s and if you were me, you sat while your mom got her hair done on the 4th floor and then had lunch at the restaurant that was up there. You got shoes at Walk Well, and dresses at Lobel’s. Toys and candy could be purchased at Winston’s, and Baskin Robbins was a great place for summer, after dessert. Playing a sport? You’d run to Fitzgerald’s and grab your gear. You ran to the Filling Station for lunch if you had time, went shopping with your Dad at Salny Brothers, and had your film developed at Camera One. We’d grab the latest album, then cassette, or even camp outside for tickets to the latest concerts at Scotti’s Record Shop.

And if you were lucky, you had dinner at McDonald’s before hitting the Triplex for a movie.

Not one of these stores still exist on the green.

It was a town that was heaven for a teenager, and had anything that adults could need, as well.

It was a town.

In name, it’s still a town. And in many ways, it is still the same town in which I grew up. I mean, it technically is the exact same town in which I grew up, but it’s not.

When I ask my students what they do when they go to town, (which they still do), they tell me that they grab some Starbucks or Qdoba, and then they go hang out on top of the parking deck. 

The Bambergers became a Macy’s that became a Century 21 and now sits empty. The department store where I worked my way through high school and beyond is now a Starbucks and luxury apartments. No more Camera One, because no one uses cameras anymore. Everything has become something else.

Or, if it was on one block of the green, the store sits empty.

Don’t let that one empty block fool you, though. My town is, apparently, happenin’. 

There are more bars and restaurants than any one person could ever make their way through. What was once a town full of thriving small businesses is now a town full of sidewalk seating and bars with open doors to the sidewalk to extend their space. Wanna eat out? My town is the place to go, but if you are longing for some mom and pop stores and a more homey experience, you aren’t going to get it here.

Those of us who still live here, and who have always lived here, maintain our small town spirit, though. Recently, on our local FB page, someone mentioned that they hadn’t seen MaryAnn, one of our residents who has roamed and lived in town since I was in high school. She would often come into Epstein’s to take shelter from the extreme heat or the extreme cold, and when I graduated from college and worked at Goffin’s, a card/sticker/candy/you name it store, she would come in to use the mirror in the back of the flower case to do her hair.

MaryAnn is a fixture of my town.

And when she was missing for a month, when no one had seen her, people were concerned and started expanding the web of ways to find her. People continued to check in and speaking with authorities and searching for her until she was finally found, safe and sound.

The town may now be a city, but we lifers look out for our own.

This changing of the makeup of a town isn’t a phenomenon that is specific to my town. 

It happens everywhere, and I understand it. I don’t need time to stand still. Progress is important or things eventually die out, and my town is definitely not dying out. That’s a good thing.

But, I’ve become one of those people who mourn the “good old days,” which weren’t necessarily all that good, but this town…my town…is something that brought me joy and something that I wish our kids today could still experience.

It was a simpler time where success was measured more in happiness than in town revenue.

I wish my kids and my students could have just a day to see what it used to be like here. 
More to the point, I wish I could go back for a day. Stand in the middle of the green, look around, take a deep breath and just be.

Maybe it’s not the town at all that is my issue.

And for those of you who are interested, here is an article from the New York Times from 1985 when Headquarters Plaza was being built.