Cue In The "Peyton Place" Theme--"And Now, The Continuuing Story Of.....Highland Park!!!!!!!!"

Well, girls, I guess this makes me Mia Farrow as Allison MacKenzie. Even on my best days, I NEVER looked like Barbara Parkins as Betty Anderson, and, second, I was no town slut. Though, believe me, this town had no shortage of those!!!!

But I am getting ahead of myself. When we finished lunch at Old Rafferty's, the next thing was showing Monsieur my home town. Paul, who had a car, generously offered to drive us about, which was great, because I could never have covered as much terrain as I did on foot, and Mary Anne wanted to come along, and, frankly, I was glad to have them both for emotional support, as neither I nor Monsieur had any idea how I would react.

We began via the old route--over the Raritan River bridge--with mesh wiring so it is not as open any more--and on up into Raritan Avenue and Highland Park. The first thing I spotted was South Adelaide Avenue, which, for the South Side, was a pretty street, and where the JCC (or Jewish Community Center) was housed. I discovered it was gone. To the left were stores where in my day had been a Robert Hall clothing store (and yes, girls, I shopped there!!!!) but, lo and behold, although refurbished, was the Dunkin' Donuts, which is now--are you ready???--KOSHER!!!! Only Anatevka, darlings!!!!!! There was still some kind of sweet shop, deli, eatery on the corner of South First and Raritan. Up South Second, I could see the Reformed Church, where my mother, grandmother and sister attended, and, straining, I could still make out Lafayette School, the most Gothic looking of all educational structures, which my mother had attended as a child!!!!! And which are now condominium apartments!!! As we moved further up Raritan, I recognized all the facades, recalling what had been in them in my time (a bank at one, a bookstore at the other). The main drag of town was still such, replaced by newer and often more sophisticated venues than in my time. I actually saw a Chinese restaurant, offering Dim Sum. Call B.D. Wong!!!! Not in my time, darling!!!!!

When we got to Fifth and Raritan, I was stunned! There, which I have pictured for you, darlings, were the Ansonia Apartments, which at one time is where I thought I would end up--living above Raritan Ave., taking the bus to work over in New Brunswick, and into NYC on weekends!!!!! Lambs, if that script had played out, I might have been hauled off, screaming, on a gurney, not unlike Blanche Du Bois at the end of "A Streetcar Named Desire!!!" Across the way was St. Paul's Rectory, the same as ever, and St. Paul's Church, where I attended countless masses with my father, always sitting near the big stained glass window depicting the Conversion of St. Paul. I was also baptized in this church!!!!!! However,a big empty lot stood where St. Paul's School (where Margaret and all her siblings went)had been. Amazingly, the building that was the convent (maybe I should go there, girls!!!!) was still there; I believe Mary Anne said it is now used for offices!!!! Well, where are you gonna find a nun these days????? Only in "Sister Act" on Broadway, I guess!!!!!!

Finally, we reached the top of Our Street--North Tenth. Across the way stood the house where the Appignanis used to live--and, remarkably, Raspa Jeweler's and Eleanor Lasso's house. The first change I noticed was where once had stood the Mistakos house, a new structure had been built. Good thing, because that house had been a nightmare image from my childhood. Otherwise I could not get over how basically the street looked the same, though most living there when I grew up were not. Finally, in front of what had once been Professor McDonnell's house (which Mary Anne correctly described as creepy, what with all the trees covering the front windows, an upstairs window light the only sign of life in the room), with the huge yard adjoining the Montanas (who still reside there) property, where in the summer, the Professor, in his grey streaked tank top undershirts would mow his lawn with an old fashioned push mower, we stopped, and there, in front of me was 166 North Tenth--where it all began!!!!!!!

But before I get there, let me say I was astonished by two more changes. What had been the Rein house, across from us on South Park Avenue, and which was big enough, was now expanded into what looked like a three residential townhouse. Next to it, where the Axelrad house had been, stood a structure I did not at all recognize.

Getting back to 166-- I stood there, reciting Vivien Leigh's lines from "GWTW", when she returns home, the moon parts--and she finds Tara is still there!!! I felt exactly the same. I ran over, where I first discovered the tree directly in front of the house was gone, and so was the sidewalk embankment that you always had to watch out for, which had been raised by the roots. The sidewalk now was as flat as could be. I was somewhat disappointed; a landmark gone. But the house looked remarkably the same--and the front porch was enclosed, just like it was all those summers I sat out on it, reading "Exodus" or "The Song Of Bernadette," or Margaret and all her siblings with me played games (like Bats In The Belfry!!!!!). Let me add here I also loved the new color; for one reason because now you could clearly see the number 166!!!!
Eventually, a woman said "I hear voices," and came out to see what was going on. As soon as I explained myself, she asked, "Is your last name Hearn? We bought this house from your father!" My Lord, it was the Rockoffs, the (then) young couple with small children who, succeeded us, still reside there, I was happy to see, and who are still a couple with small children in tow, only now those children are....grandchildren. How time passes!!!!!! Thank God my hair color is still natural!!!!!

But wait, it gets better!!!! To the astonishment of Mary Anne and Paul, and to the fascination of Monsieur, who snapped photos with all the aplomb of a VOGUE fashion photog, Mr. and Mrs. Rockoff graciously invited Monsieur and I into the house. The first time I had passed through this door in 31 years, never expecting I would again. I was amazed by what I saw. The Rockoffs have done so many beautiful things with it--reversing the placement of the fridge and stove in the kitchen, a new counter and sink, not so many curtains on the windows, a redoing of the windows and seating in the sun porch (home of my toys, books, and where my parents and I sat and read and watched TV), with the loveliest green sofa encompassing almost the entire periphery of the room. These changes WERE astonishing. But so was what remained the same--the lighting fixture over the dining room table (which Mrs. Rockoff had had refurbished, but I recognized it right away), the still white fireplace and mantle, home of fabulous Christmas decorations in our time, plus those side bookshelves, which, now as then, were still getting active use. The stairway banister, which, when small, I used to slide down, looked as it always did, the white corner hutch in the dinette, where we always had a radio was there. It was interesting for me, standing there, because, as I did, I saw two houses simultaneously--the one in front of me, reinvented by the Rockoffs, and the one I had been raised in. It was eerie.

But the basement--oh, my God!!!! In my day, it was a dank creepy place that ran the entire floor of the house. My mother's washer and dryer were up front, and on the wall nearby, as child, and left there till I left I had scrawled in chalk--
The Wizard of Oz, Happy The Clown (a program from Philly which I used to watch when visiting relatives in Linwood), and the numbers 444. Those were gone, because the front part had been walled off, and redone as a children's playroom, very much like my sister's house, which this reminded me of. Mrs. Rockoff urged me to go through the door,and on the other side was the basement I remembered--dark and creepy, where a ping pong table and bookshelf strewn with games, and another with National Geographics stood. As my sister pointed out, the house had very little storage space, so in my day the basement acted as a kind of attic, and attics are creepy, and children like to play in them, so we did. The washing machine was up there (Mr. Rockoff informed me a new boiler had been put in, and rewiring done, which I suppose was inevitable.) Again, I have to say I was thrilled with what the Rockoffs had done, down to the piano along the stairs where our pull down desk had been. It reminded me how houses have to be updated.

I shall always be grateful for the Rockoffs' graciousness in allowing me to have this very cathartic experience.

Oh--on a sad note--they told me the Axelrad house had been torn down and rebuilt, because, about six years ago, both Mrs. Axelrad and her son, Ronald, had died. I was not surprised about Mrs. Axelrad; she was well into her nineties. Ronald was a case--a good thing his family was wealthy (his father had been a chemist, and had patented something that was used in Borax detergent)so he didn't really have to do much, which he didn't. He had an inflated opinion of his abilities and talents, getting a degree in Military History, and then not working. About ten years ago, on the East Side, I ran into Ronald, where I learned he had lived in Akron, Ohio, for six years (whatever for? I wondered And why move back?) and now was back in HP with his mother, but working in New York for the Jewish Historical Society. There was no getting around it; Ronald was weird. He had that serial killer-pedophile manner about him, though that was not it. He was just very inverted socially, needy, and, while living there, I maintained a cordial friendship with him, he was just one of those people where a little exposure goes a long way.

Anyway, the sad thing is, shortly after his mother died, so did he. Of a blood clot in his leg that traveled. How scary. If this was six years ago, around2,005, say, Ronald would have been 53. Sad that another part of my past is gone. I can only hope he was happy while here, and is now at peace.

Saying our goodbyes to the Rockoffs, Monsieur and I returned to Mary Anne and Paul, where we continued on our way. I guess there is going to be a Part Three, because the story of our subsequent travels is too long to add on to this post.

The whole experience was very healing. I will add that we did drive up Ninth Avenue, where I discovered the Milch's house was for sale. (I had gone to school with Freddy Milch.) Apparently, Mr. Milch had recently died, though I don't know about his wife. There was a For Sale sign on the lawn, which saddened me, and also because on that lawn always rested, whom I can still see clearly as day, the Milch's collie-like dog, Daisy!!!! I wish a bronze image of Daisy had been attached to that lawn!!!!!!

We continued up Ninth, recognizing houses (the Goldmans, the Dessels, Dotty and Don Kramer's old house, Hymie Katz' house, now a new structure, Leroy Adler's, the Sinoways) till we reached the still iconic Dairy Queen, now a Dairy Delight. Now, let me explain, during my growing up time in the summers here, a lot of time was spent at the DQ. And there were two traditions. One involved me locking myself out of the house, and having each year to ruin one of my father's screens by climbing in through the basement window, to open the cellar door, which was NEVER locked. The second was at the DQ. There was the most enticing picture of something called a "Hot Fudge Brownie Delight." It was in a red, plastic boat-like dish, and featured a huge glob of vanilla DQ ice cream, saturated in hot fudge, with two huge brownie pieces stuffed in at the sides. It looked SOOOOOOOO good, and every summer I would order one, determined to finish it. Which I never could.

Now, the Dairy Delight is basically the same. I think foodstuffs (like burgers and such) have been added to the menu, and so has this seating area behind the gas station. Real classy, girls!!!!! But imagine my astonishment when Mary Anne pointed out this concoction was STILL on the menu!!!! Perhaps new generations have carried on my tradition!!!! For a second I was tempted....but no, I made a relatively sensible choice, and ordered a Medium (which once would have been a Large) vanilla shake!!!! Which tasted as heavenly as ever; especially in this atmosphere.

This is as good a place as any to end Part Two. Part Three involves travel, houses, repressed memories, and a mysterious visit that did not come off.

Still scrumdillyicous, darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!