Malls

I really dislike that the Cherry Hill Mall and Echelon Mall have been getting revamped. I'm kind of sad that I never got to get a chance to take photos of the old interiors. My favorite parts of these malls were the older feeling parts. When Strawbridges closed down, it left an empty slot in the Cherry Hill Mall. I believe that is part that is currently being redone. That whole corner was sort of fabulously out of place. When I looked at it, it looked like the past. There was that huge escalator and balcony thingie. Similary, Echelon Mall had an older area like that too- I clearly remember that area being decorated for Christmas. I think it's all gone now. There was the Cherry Hill Grill in the Cherry Hill Mall that is now the Bistro. They do serve yummy food but I still remember when it was the CHG. I hope they will keep that there. I even remember the Cherry Hill Mall having a Woolworth's. I also remember Woodstown having a Woolworth's.

Two quick but awesome Woolworth's stories: One, the one in the Cherry Hill Mall was distinct because like many old drugstores, this one sold outdated materials. I remember getting Golden Girls (the She-Ra fakes, not the old ladies) coloring books way after their prime. Sadly, my mom threw them away one day just because they got wet. A slew of wonderous paperdolls and coloring books were thrown away that day. Luckily, I was able to salvage some ballerina paperdolls. Yes, when something I love is thrown into the trash, I am willing to dive in and save it. Don't even ask me how many times I've done this before because it's just embaressing.

Second story: Okay, so I remember Woodstown's Woolworths quite fondly. Woodstown was on the list of little downtowns that my mom would take me to on a Saturday afternoon for lunch and shopping. There was and maybe still is an antique store that we did shop in and also a diner. One day, my mom took me there with my grandmom. After lunch, we walked the main strip, ending up in Woolworth's. I honestly felt like I had entered a time warp. Everything was so dated and old and creepy, including the weird androgynous lady who worked there. She wore a smock. I ended up buying NIP doll clothes that were suitable for a Dawn doll. I never opened them but I did sell them at Cowtown about 3 years ago. Then I saw them in a Dawn price guide, so I knew they were authentically old. I'm pretty sure that Woolworths is gone but I do remember telling my mom and grandmom how I felt like we went back in time. Maybe we did, if even for a moment.

The thing is, all these places are sadly disappearing. People think its better to have our new and improved malls, but they won't be so great. Why do we need another Juicy Couture or White House Black Market? I mean, what makes those places special is that there is only one of them and that they are far far away. When the special becomes common, what is so special about it? What is special are those rare little gems like the old Woolworths and the vintagy corners of the malls that are now tragically gone.

It's like what I wrote the other night, where the small towns are dying down and it just kind of sucks. I remember when my mom and I discovered Collingswood for the first time. It was pure bliss. We were looking for the Friends in Deed thrift store, and we found it and many other treasures. This was all before Collingswood was the hip restaraunt town that it is now too. There were two thrift stores, an antique store, and an 80s toy store I kid you not. Seriously, that was my favorite place- this lady owned the store and sold strictly toys from the 80s. Anyway, we spent this beautiful November day shopping and enjoying ourselves. I remember capping the day off with a very nice visit with Lori. It was one of those days that just sticks out in my mind because it was so perfect. And then, so crappily, one by one, all of my favorite shops there began to disappear until only one thrift store was left, and it's not even the good one, it's the one that is just okay. Now Collingswood is just so blah, another trendy place to go and eat. Oh yay.

People used to rely on their downtowns because we didn't have malls. The Cherry Hill mall was one of the first in the area. Cherry Hill was one of the first pretty developed areas. Maybe we should blame all of this developmentness on them for starting it all in the first place. Anyway, pretty much every town in South Jersey has a downtown area that included a Woolworths or similar scale store, a movie theater, a diner, and several other small stores. Then these all got replaced by malls. People went to malls for their goods, and these small towns either suffered or got transferred into little art towns, which isn't such a terrible thing, it's just that it's not the same. I would have really liked to experience shopping in this- a soda fountain, a dress store, an afternoon film. I'm not afraid of change, but I just don't think that everything needs to be some overproduced, same type of place. Let's all do the same thing each weekend. Let's eat at the same places and forget any flavors. South Jersey was so unique, and now, it might be like any other cosmopolitan area, because people can't just travel to the city anymore. It's too far.

At least in Philadelphia building exteriors are salvaged and valued. The Ross on 8th and Market for instance, while on the inside is indeed a Ross, the outside remains the same as it was when it was another store years ago. It's kind of what lured me to Philly in the first place. Everything looked very steampunk- I was impressed by those buildings and the architecture and the way they looked against the grey cloudless skies. I felt like the heroine of a graphic novel.

In New Jersey, it's all about knocking everything down and starting fresh. It's why we don't have the red Custard shack anymore and we have Starbucks and Coldstone. It's why Delsea Drive will soon be the next Route 73. Everything changes and instead of preserving history, we decide to ignore it and pretend it never happened.

It all just makes me long for the past, for a simpler time and place.

Small Towns Bring Frowns

So Rachel and I tried candlelight shopping in downtown Haddonfield the other night. It rained, and only like 5 stores were open. What's the point of having candelight shopping if all stores won't particpate?

Small towns used to be my thing. My mom and I used to enjoy taking a Saturday to go to Haddonfield or Collingswood or Woodbury and eating lunch and shopping along the main street. There would usually be a bookstore, a thrift store, a candy store, and several other small gift shops.

However, it's all starting to change. The small towns aren't the same as they used to be. I don't know if it's the economy or not, but they just are lacking a magical element that used to be quite visible when shopping in them. I notice it more now because it's almost Christmas and that is the time of year I'd really enjoy shopping in these areas.

There are less thrift stores and used bookstores and more high end clothing shops and eclectic art places. These are not the stores that I remember. There are more trendy eateries than I can count, and less little mom and pop diners.

I find the whole thing disenchanting anymore. I would love for small towns to go back to the way they were, when it really was a treat to shop in them.

To Be Thankful..

Although I am thankful for many things, I am mostly thankful that Adam and I were only friends, and nothing more, or else him disliking me right now would be even worse. I cannot get over the fact that we are not friends. I can't and don't know that I will. I feel a little crazy right now.

I did have a dream last night about him that was pink (Yes, Pink!) and it was also a cartoon. And it was also so powerful that I thought it was real, and feel like there was something to the exchange we had in the dream. Remember how I said I believe dreams are other worlds? Well, in this world, we made up. In this world, we are still friends.

In this real world that we live in, it's bizarre because although a lot of our friends care about me and this whole rift thing has gone on, I still can't seem to get past well, at least he still seems to like them and want to be their friends. Where, with me, what the heck would it take?

Right now, I am going through wedding photos and trying to think of everything happy in my life. I am almost a student teacher. I am married to somone I love. I have a great dog. I have a wonderful family. I have terrific friends. I'm pretty good looking. I've got a story that I am trying to work on. I am me. I am me. I am me.

But if me is so great, why do I let the bad stuff affect me?

Dreams

This may sound really far out and strange, but I'm not so sure that dreams are just really dreams. I do not have any scientific reasoning for this, but it's just a theory that I have. I believe that dreams are portals to other worlds. I think that somewhere in time, these dreams are actually taking place.

I can't really explain this feeling, except that some dreams have felt so so real, that I can't help believe that in a way they are. It's like an alternate life or something.

Eh

So tired of politics, and of people who think they know everything about the election.

Kind of tired but I'm on a bad sleeping pattern.

I had a good day today. My lesson went really well and Freddie and I applied for our marriage license, so we can be legally wed now.

Please help me think of all the friends that I have that love me. If you are out there, let me know. I have trouble looking at the positives.

Remembering Shitty First Drafts

Well, I'm not quite as down as I have been the past few days. To be honest, I was fed a helpful serving of BS soup today, which just reminded me how some of the people in my circle can act and react to things. Eh, everyone has their own theories on things. Together, we could submit a thesis. I only wish that I had this sort of brain power when it came to school work. Oooh research.

Anyhoo, I'm pretty grateful to everyone who has put up with my whining. I'm no easy sell on forgetting things and looking the other way. When there's a bright side, somehow it always seems to be hiding behind the clouds. Every day gets better, though. And you know, The Golden Girls is on right now, and that's a show that has always comforted me. If only certaiin people hadn't gone all All About Eve on us, maybe our group would still be the same, but we're not, and me torturning myself by idolizing the past is really not going to help.

If any of you out there know him, I will request that you name at least five really stupid things that he's done to me over the years I've known him. This will remind me that he wasn't all good and pure, and that maybe he always had it in him to be a big ole jerkface.

However, when I am not happy, I tend to be a better writer. As my great brother Rob once said, "We should keep her depressed. She writes better." (This was during the super emo years of junior year of high school, blech), I have to find something valid about that statement. My emotions are at their purest and rawest when I am sad. Somehow, words just spring out of my mouth, ripe and ready to describe and create.

My only problem that I am running into is my typical problem of being discouraged because things are not perfect right away.

Side note- why must the television continue to torture me with commercials for Sonic, when there is absolutely not one nearby me? So unfair!

Anyhoo, I keep having to remind myself of shitty first drafts, 2nd drafts, third drafts and so on. I just finished the 2nd draft of a story that I had been working on for maybe a month or a month and a half. I don't know. I'm not really good at gauging time here. I mean, I'm the person who couldn't remember that my last good memory with Baconface happened over two years ago. Ooops. But it feels like 6 months ago in my mind, because in my life, time doesn't really matter because it goes by so quickly. But yeah, so now I am awaiting comments from my reviewers on the story before I move forward to a third draft, even though I already have a pretty good idea of where the story is headed. I did start new story yesterday that I continued onward with today. It's based partially on my relationship and nonrelationship with Baconface, and is actually something different than my usual material, structure wise- but that's great. It's allowing me to explore new avenues.

Eh, so maybe one by one all of my friends should drop me until I feel so bad that I just end up with a freakin' novel.

It's always the ones you want the most who end up slipping away.

You Get So Alone Sometimes That it Just Makes Sense

Thank you, Charles Bukowski, for making me feel like being weird was okay.

I'll never forget my first experience reading him. Back in 11th grade, there used to be a bookstore near the Walmart. This was back when mom and pop shops still pretty much existed everywhere, before corporations ate them out. Anyway, my cousin Anthony had been spending the weekend. This was actually the weekend that I last really remember him as a little boy, before he somehow got older so fast. I cherished him.

My mom had taken us shopping, and one of the stops was the bookstore. I found the Bukowski book. The main reason that I purchased it was because of the title, something about playing the piano until your fingers start to bleed. I unfortunately don't have the book anymore. Sadly, I lent it to an ex of mine that I really trusted, someone I thought I'd know long enough where he would actually realize what books meant to me. There were certain books I'd never lend out on principle. One was that Bukowski book. The other was Kafka was the Rage, which I recently re-read and found much of the magic lost, but aye, that is another posting entirely. (It is worth mentioning that this particular ex not only kept my book, but also a favorite pair of butterly printed intimates.) Bah.

Anyway, I found the book, bought out of dramatic's sake, and then proceeded to read each and every poem, with juicy hunger. When I came across "The Night I was Going to Die", I read it out loud in a very dramatic voice, making Anthony laugh and giggle.

Anyway, fast forward years later and his words still make sense to me. Maybe that's the point of writers. They give us something to identify with when we are going through the emotions. They give us examples of "Hey, I've been there. I felt that". They've done it for me enough times. Any crisis I go there, a book has been my best friend. Books help me.

I've been writing alot lately because a friend of mine suggested that I put my sadness into writing. I can produce something really powerful this way. This echoes the words that a former aquaitence had said to me many moons ago as well, and it always stuck with me. Sometimes we get our greatest inspirations through our pains. I haven't been in pain in a while where its moved me, but the way I feel right now, over this loss of a friendship, I just feel more moved than ever to put it all into words.

So, I actually finished the 2nd draft of a short story that I've been working on, and started the first draft of another. Instead of sitting here, feeling emo and sorry for myself, wondering when will I be loved, I'm going to try and make something of this.

But don't let my ex-friend take all the credit, unless you know, it ends up being bad.

Ugh

"This is what I wanted to say to you, if I had one chance to tell you something- you are loved, more than you can ever know."- Rebecca St. James

I don't want to be a hipster anymore, because I was a college hipster and so were you, and you know, doing things like shopping at Urban Outfitters or listening to Leonard Cohen just reminds me of you in a way that makes me want to go corporate and only read trashy chick lit.

Nostalgia is a Disease

You know, today, I gave away some things that were once dear to me, but I gave them to my good friend, Gina, as I know that she would preserve them well.

I've always had a hard time giving up things. It was hard for me at Cowtown over the summer to part with my rainbow pillow. It's been hard for me to clean out my room and take things to my new house that are only of extreme importance or use to me. I can't be a pack rat anymore.

I get nostalgic for all old times. I can guaruntee that next year, I'll be pining for this year, and so on and so forth. That's how I am. Sometimes the past always looks better to me. I'm rarely a future person- thinking about a great future; I'm much more into the past. It's why I have this blog. I get sad when things go away that remind me of my childhood. Like, why doesn't anyone play Dawson's Creek reruns anymore? Why did Roy Rogers have to shut down and only become highway rest stops? Why are they remodelling the Phily Diner? Most recently, why does my former good fried hate my guts?

It's the same reason why I watch Titanic at least once a month for- I'm like, longing for something that I cannot have, or ever get back to-even though the future is probably a wonderful place full of wonderful things.

When my grandmother died, for days, all I did was stare at photographs of her and the Florida house, and just tried remembering her. When I miss someone or something, that's what I do. I focus on that era. Then I wish I could go back in time. I wish I could change things or relive things.

It makes me wish sometimes that I was still a little girl, because I had a really great childhood, and I don't remember bad things happening to me then. I had toys and a family and a dog and a nice house. I sang a song about Tinkberbell that I made up while I swang on the swings. Sometimes I wonder if my parents miss those times, or if they wish I was a little girl again too. I know I will miss being in the house with them once I am married.

Sometimes I wonder if I am the only person with nostalgia disease. Does this prevet me from moving forward and becoming the best person I can be? But then I wonder what would happen if I were to forget. If I forgot Peppy my old dog, or my grandmother, what would happen? If I forgot my friend, would I feel better about my life?

I know we cannot stop time and we can't change things at all. But I just wish that the future looked more pleasant to me than the past has become.

I guaruntee you, that in a year from now, I'll be pining for this moment.

Maybe Someday

Maybe someday you will realize that the life you envisioned is not all that it's choked up to be.

Maybe someday you will see that I always believed in you and trusted you and thought that you were great- yes you disappointed me at times, but I never wanted to not know you.

I don't want to waste another tear on you, but I'm not like you.

I just can't throw things away so easily.

As much as I say I never want to see you again, it isn't true. I wish I could see you right now or tomorrow. I wish you'd come back and be my friend again.

Feeling Emo

I promised myself that I would not go public with my problems, but hey, I think that it's okay to be emo sometimes, maybe healthy even.

In good old teenage angst form, go ahead and bang your head against the wall, throw things around the room, break a few CDs in half (they're obsolete anyway), and make song mixes devoted to those you have lost or are acting out against. Then zip into your car, wearing heavy eyeliner and vintage clothing, drive to nowhere, and sing along as if Cameron Crowe is watching you. You can brood and mood at the mall, the local bar, or in your best friend's basement.

Just don't act out this way too long or you may become chronic emo, which you know, is just sad. You'll end up cutting your wrists and writing really bad poetry, citing everything as ironic and twisted. Enough said.

Me, I've been emo the past few weeks, for reasons that some of you are aware of, and some of you aren't aware of. I'm not the type to name bash and trash all over the web. Yes, there was a time when I would do that, but it's been eons since that era in high school. Although, because no one reads this blog beyond Noreen, Gina and Lori (I think, correct me if I am wrong, dear readers), I feel as though I could bash the person that I am angry with and get away with it. He or she would never know.

The person that I am angry at right now is someone that I once highly respected and cherished. What does this have to do with South Jersey and forgotton places? One word: nostalgia. This is a person that I have an unfortunate nostalgic attachment to- everything around me here in South Jersey is reminiscent of this one-time friend of mine- but mostly the neighborhood we grew up in, the diners we ate at, and the high school that we spent lots of time in. Memories mean everything to an emo nostalgic person like me- that's what we thrive on- the good old days, the photographs, the parties and the life changing events that we went through.

Because I can't get too personal, I can't really express what I am going through right now. All I can say is that when you lose a friend because he or she no longer feels that you are important enough to talk to, or if your friendship is in trouble, and that person doesn't feel that it's worth saving, it's probably one of the worst feelings in the world. I'd put it up there next to ending a romantic relationship, losing a job that you love, or finding out your favorite t.v. show was cancelled (now there's a reason to get emo).

No, in truth, it's not a joke. Friendship is to be taken seriously. If any of you readers are experiencing a problem with a friend that you truly care about, I suggest that you talk to that person right away. Don't be a coward and hide, because when that friendship is really lost and has exhausted all resources, you will feel so alone, even if like me, you have all the friends that you ever really needed.

And to all of you out there who have been my friend and will continue to stay my friend- I care about all of you so much, even if I do not always show it. I will make a promise right now to ever talk if I feel that our friendships are in danger, and I want you to promise me the same.

My emo day is coming to an end. Tomorrow I will be a stronger, wiser and better person- because I have to be. Nothing feels worse than wallowing in your own pain for too long. Plus, it's really important to shower. I have to be a good person, daughter, sister, wife, teacher, pet mommy, writer, student and friend- and I can't do those jobs if I'm feeling sorry for myself.

I'm not going to let this hurt me.

South Jersey Shore Memories

I've actually been wanting to write a memoir piece on the Jersey shore for a while now, but never got around to it. I figure this could help trigger some of my memories and such.

Let's just put it this way. I'm a real Jersey girl. I love the city, but I prefer my suburbs. I eat at diners and actually relish the food. I shop at malls. Once while in Florida, a waiter asked if I was from Jersey. Apparantly my accent is that thick. And one more thing- I love the Jersey shore!

I don't know if shore is a Jersey created word or not, but I don't use the word beach too frequently. I'm more of a shore gal.

I guess I take for granted the fact that we have this wonderful natural entertainment so close by. For all of you that might think Jersey is the armpit of the USA, don't be fooled. Jersey is within prime distance to Philly, the shore, and New York. It rocks. I have cousins who grew up in Ohio and only got to see the shore when they visited. I have a friend now who is not from the East Coast either and has never been to the shore. Imagine! No shelly beach, no cool breeze, no seagulls or fudge or Kohr brothers ice cream or gigantic slices of pizza.

I recently was lucky enough to travel to my two favorite Jersey shores- Cape May and Ocean City. On my trips, I tried realizing what I loved most about the shores.

First off, my first love was Ocean City. My family used to rent a house or two down there each summer- and when I say family, I don't just mean mom, dad and brothers. Everyone came- aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents. The one summer that I remember the most was when my cousins from Ohio came to visit.

A little backstory here- my cousin, Margaret, and I were always good friends as well as cousins. We would write letters to one another and include drawings and paperdolls for one another. It was a blast getting to spend a week or two in the summer down the shore with her! What I remember most from that particular vacation was the jacuzzi in the house that we went into, feeling so priveledged to do so. I also remember playing some sort of game in the ocean, where we were cowgirls or something. We would ride the waves with and without boogey boards.

What I remember the most, though, was visiting the Ocean City museum with her. I remember looking at jewelry in a case, buying a really neat bookmark that featured an old-fashioned girl on it, and feeling almost ghostly about the whole thing. Sometimes, when I am in a place that includes history, I feel like there are ghosts or spirits of the past nearby. It's just a strange feeling that I get.

I never went back to that musuem but I wish I could.

My brother, Rob, and I also got in trouble that summer for jumping on the stepping stones that existed on the house next door's landscape. That, and he saw some cooler dressed people that he mentioned had to be from Philly, because Philly people dress better.

Another summer, I went on the long and painful excursions to find a home suitable enough to rent for a few weeks. While I was at first thrilled that my mother chose the home that I was attracted to (for its Victorian decor), I was later bummed to find out that the deal had fallen through, and that were to end up staying in a house that backed up to a marsh. That was a summer that I spent reading mostly comic books- Archie, Richie Rich and Casper mostly. While my Uncle Albert had picked up some for me from a local 5 & Dime, what I enjoyed most was visiting the Atlantic Book Shops on the boardwalk, as they sold older comics at 4 for a $1.00. Most of the time I was lucky to find Archie, but one night there were none left. And they never got any more either. So sad, I cried and cried in the bedroom that I shared with my grandmother, who comforted me after I was in trouble for causing some sort of tantrum. That was also the summer that I wrote a short story about the secret life of things, such as appliances and pots, as in, what they ate, did, etc...I did this with a set of very cute and colorful pens that I found in the kitchen drawer and felt bad for using because they belonged to the family that owned the house and not to me. Rob found this story and told me how stupid it was- very typical of him.

Mostly, I always loved the boardwalk. Besides the book stores, I also enjoyed a store titled The Old Salt, and one titled, South Sea Shop. Both still exist! In fact, most of the stores I loved still linger around, such as Toy Safari, and the Wonderland pier. What I find funny is how much longer the boardwalk seemed back then then it actually is. I loved the Old Salt because the exterior resembles an old boat and everything for sale is nautical themed for the home. South sea Shop had an area full of dollar items which I loved. I always was able to take home a trinket or two.

One last thing about those vacatios were the giant family dinners. We always ate together, whether we went out, or ate in. On one evening, we were in a restaraunt and my Uncle Carmen, who knew of my desire to one day become a fashion designer (instead of a mediocre substitute teacher, ha) gave me the assignment to draw designs that would dress a man fora week. I did not follow up. This is probably why I did not become a fashion designer and why I will stay a substitute teacher for a long time.

My family has always been important to me. I enjoy spending time with them, even though the visits are less frequent and less magical, probably because I'm no longer under the spell of childhood imagination. *sigh* Last summer, my family had rented a house in Ocean City and once again, I was able to tour the boardwalk and eat a family dinner, even though this time I was only down for the day. I hope to do these kinds of activities with my family again soon, and give my future children the same type of Americana childhood that a shore vacation can bring.

I never stayed in Cape May with my parents, although we went for many day trips there. Obviously, my favorite place to go there is the Washington Square mall area, where there is a store I adore- Whale of a Tale. This place is really magical. It is full of sea themed items of books, postcards and jewelry, but scours of other items to lust after- stickers, soaps, beautiful cards. It sounds ordinary, but it's not. I can never leave the store without purchasing at the very least a card that hopefully will be used in a craft of sorts.

Cape May is not Cape May without strolling along that area, or without dining at the Lobster House. That is truly the most wonderful place. It sits on the ocean. I love how it greets you as soon as you enter Cape May.

I've been to Cape May for many adult ventures, including vacations and my brother's wedding. There's a sense of real Victorian elegance that hovers around the area. And that feeling of spirits- that is always with me when I am wandering down there. It's just a very lively, spiritual place.

As my past posts explain, my grandmother, Lenny, had passed away back in April, leaving me very saddened. Around the time of her death, I watched the movie, Titanic for the first time in my life. So forgive me for sounding awkward, but the two events are kind of connected. I sort of had comfort in the scene where Rose goes to Heaven at the end, as that's how I began to picture my Lenny's passing- her opening the door to her Florida home and being surrounded by deceased loved ones.

Because Titanic takes place on the ocean, it reminds me of the shore. So this summer, I had an especially hard time waiting to get myself to the shore.

My grandmother lived a full life. She went everywhere and did everything. Her spirit, along with the Titanic characters really made me want to live. I want to go everywhere and do everything. I never want to become one of those people who wakes up one day, old, and realizes, "Shit, I spent the last 30 years spending every weekend grocery shopping and watching tv. Awful."

So not to get off topic, but here's to you, Jersey Shore, and all of the memories you've brought me. Hopefully, I'll see much more of you in the future, as I continue to live my life with the glamour and zest it deserves.

Memories of Florida

Okay, I know that this is not really related to South Jersey, but I also know that no one really reads my blog, so I figure I'll put this out there.

My paternal grandmother died today. She had just turned 90 on April 1st and was the subject of my memoir project for a writing class I took last year in graduate school (back when my MA was writing and not education). Anyway, I'm really sad and I just wanted to reflect on some of the memories that I have of her.

Her and my grandfather (deceased about 10 years ago) used to live in Delray Beach, Florida. That is near Palm Beach and Boca Raton. My family and I used to visit them every summer for about a week. Because my dad did not like to fly on planes, we usually drove down. At first, the trip was my three older brothers and me. Then it became just my brother, Rob, and me. And then, it became just me with my parents. I have some of the best memories of those road trips. We would always play the Bob Marley Legend tape in the car. Rob and I would rock out to "I Shot the Sheriff" and I'd have a bag full of goodies to keep me busy- drawing paper, books to read, stuffed animals to cuddle, etc...We'd always stop at plenty of fast food places along the way- some of them now defunct such as Roy Rogers and Hardees, and enjoy getting our kids' meals. Somewhere, I still have all of those toys.

Sometime along the way I would begin to notice signs for Pedro and South of the Border. I LOVED seeing those signs. When we would pass South of the Border, I would keep my eyes close to the window, trying to see as much of it as possible. We begged and begged our parents to take us there, but only once did they stop. Rob was happy to purchase fireworks there and I think I got a book that showcased photographs of the billboards.

We would always spend the night in the same Holiday Inn every year. This was in either South or North Carolina. I know I used to comment that the waitresses sounded like cowgirls. And they did because we were down south! I remember the lobby of this place real well because there was always candy for sale and I don't think I was allowed to have any. I always enjoyed their playground and always asked if I could go in the pool but was always told maybe and it never ended up being yes. We were so poor back then too that we didn't even have luggage; we used black trashbags to transport our stuff. I think my favorite part of the hotel was breakfast. It was just so much fun to eat in their restaraunt for some reason.

Back on the road, I would get excited when I started seeing palm trees. Sometimes I'd count them. I got cranky in the car. Sometimes my mom and Rob would trade seats so that she'd sit in the back with me and he'd go up front with my dad. Then I'd get to lie down and keep my head in her lap and she'd pet me or maybe read to me.

When we arrived in Florida, it was still a bit of a drive to our actual destination. I would be so happy, though, to get to their neighborhood- a retirement village of sorts, complete with a pool, clubhouse and shuffleboard court. My pop pop would be nervously meandering the neighborhood, on the look out for our car. I loved to see the huge fountain that swayed itself over the lake in the beginning of the neighborhood. Then we'd see my pop pop and he'd walk back to their condo and as soon as we'd park the car, he immediately began seizing our luggage and taking it indoors where my grandmother was.

Our first night there was nothing too fancy. Usually, we would eat a dinner of cold cut sandwiches. Who knew how long the cold cuts had been in the fridge? I sometimes didn't want to eat them, knowing this. There'd be chips and pickles and sodas and things, all from Costcos and Publix. And while my grandparents would be shoving food down our throats, they'd also be the first to tell us how much weight we've gained. We'd do little more than take a walk around the neighborhood, looking for salamanders and frogs or unpacking our things before going to bed. Usually, my parents slept in the Florida room on the pull out bed while Rob and I slept on the couches or on cots, all made up with the same orange and yellow butterfly and floral patterned sheets.

Now I want to go into what their house looked like. Every detail. The outside was white. Their last name was on it. You'd go inside and see the Florida room to your right. The Florida room was a room on the front of the house with windows in front to let the sunlight in. They had the couch with the pullout bed in there along with a tv and a little yellow breakfast table that I liked a whole lot. On the table was a paperweight made of pennies. I loved it.

The foyer had this large black laquer dresser thing in it, with a mirror on top and matching accessories, including a white woman's head thing. Then there were the couches and the painting that my Aunt Nellie made of the lilly pads. Behind that was a closet with a mirror on it. All across from that area was the dining and kitchen area. There was a large green cabinet of sorts that held treasures inside. There was the dining table in front of the mirrored wall. Chairs had pillows on them for extra comfort. There was a matching green tea cart in the corner and outside of the kitchen was a picture of some kind of animals- I know that my pop pop's sister brought it back from Israel.

My grandmother kept special jewelry in the kitchen. She also had a little tv in there and a stool by the sink that sometimes I sat on. On a shelf above the sink were some little knicknacks include a plastic Mexican boy figurine. The fridge had lots of magnets and photos on it. Cereal was not kept in boxes but in plastic containers.

Before you got to the hallway, you would see a statue of a boy holding a fish. I really don't know what happened to this piece but I loved it. You could use the bathroom which had another picture I loved hanging in it of frog. Also, the wallpaper in this room had a strange brown pattern.

My grandparents bedroom had a tv in it and their blue bed. They also had framed photos of clowns that had come from a calendar. In front of their closet and next to their bathroom was a desk area with a mirror above it. They had some older photos hung up ther eof my brothers when they were younger. In this room too was a picture that now hangs in my bathroom- a drawing of a lady in her robe in her bedroom. Their bathroom was large and had a picture that I liked al ot of naked women on the beach. Always interesting art in their house.

And that's really it. Those are my favorite details. You could walk to the pool or shuffleboard. We did both. I liked to go swimming with my dad and play shuffleboard with my brother and my pop pop. We would go to the beach or out to eat or to Mizner Park or Butterfly World or other numerous places. My parents were always trying to find out ways for us to have fun down there.

I don't want to stop writing, but I have to. I need some sleep but I promise to put more details in later. I promise.

Something Else to Think About

When I was in elementary school, I loved our assistant principal so much! Now here I am, a 24 year old graduate student, and I get to do my practiums at the school where she is now principal. I just found out that she is retiring- boy, does that make me feel old! And sad. Rumor has it that one of my 5th grade teachers will retire this year as well. I don't know; it just makes me sort of sad. It's like these were these constant people who made such impacts on me as a person and in my career and who knows how many other students admired them in the way that I did as well? This is just going to ramble. Point is, I feel lucky that I was able to have her as such an influence and that I will get to work with her, even for just a little bit. I just have the best memories from when I was in elementary school, particularly kindergarten & 1st grade. I think this is part of the reason that I have always wanted to become an elementary school teacher- to create the same wonderful environment that I had, working on art projects, learning how to love reading, enjoying the holidays and making good friends. Without a good school staff, it just can't happen. Here's a huge thank you to all of those teachers, aides and administrators who have always helped me to love school!

Volunteers and Photos Needed

If anyone out there actually reads this,

The Washington Township Historical Preservation Commission is seeking volunteers to help run events and maintain the buildings, specifically that of the Old Stone House Village. This would be a great opportunity for young adults seeking volunteer credit, or anyone who has an interest in history or gardening. You can contact me if you are interested!

We are also seeking photographs of historical Washington Township to place into a calendar. The calendar will feature before and after photos. We are especially seeking photographs of The Bells Lake Mansion, Grenloch Amusement Park, and Haines Dairy Farm, just to name a few. You can contact me for that as well!

I should have included this in my other post, but forgot. Part of this blog will be used for me to update the audience on current Historical Board projects.

First Post

Okay, this is my first post, so I think I'll explain a little bit about what I hope to achieve with this blog.
I'm an extremely nostalgic person. I can talk for hours about all of the places that I've loved but have since vanished in New Jersey. To name a few:

• The Custard Shack in Washington Twp, NJ
• The Carousel in the Deptford Mall
• The Franklin House in Glassboro, NJ
• The Bagel Place (I don't know the real name) at the Deptford Mall
• Haddonwood Pool Club in Deptford, NJ
• Cabbages and Kings bookstore in Haddonfield, NJ
• The Lady of Lourdes Thrift store in Collingswood, NJ
• The Doo Wop Shop in Williamstown, NJ
• The Ground Round in Deptford, NJ

And here are some places that I have always loved and that still thankfully exist:

• Angelo's Diner in Glassboro, NJ
• The Broadway Theatre in Pitman, NJ
• That Really Cool Candy Store (I forget the real name) in Woodbury, NJ
• Thrift Village in Glassboro, NJ

And some places that I wonder about:

• What will become of St. Patrick's School in Woodbury, NJ?
• What will become of the Galaxy Diner in Glassboro, NJ? It's been on the market for years but nothing has happened.
• What happened to the original elementary schools in Glassboro, NJ? I read that one closed in the mid 90s but don't know what happened to it. I remember that something was being demolished about 5 years ago. Was that it?

Most of the stuff listed is gone, and while most of this stuff is not considered real history, I guess it's considered nostalgia. There is just something so wonderful about remembering one of these places from my childhood and feeling so warm and wonderful.

Currently, I am a commissioner on the Washington Township Historical Preservation Commission. My original goal with this blog was to write about Township only related history, but then I thought about all of the places in South Jersey that I loved and still do love. Please post your own favorite places and memories and I will continue to do the same. I really just hope to allow for our memories of these special places to live on.