Karen wrote me today and enlarged upon the story of our home in New Jersey. I had forgotten that we had a wall in the backyard that held the hill up. Kind of a retaining wall. It had steps which led up a short ways so you climb the steps and then go on up the hill. The wall was in bad shape and crumbing, but it held together as long as we were there. Also, we had a garden above the wall.
Karen says: “To the very back of that part of the high yard was a wooded area. Civilized as I was I wanted to clean out the weeds and make it look nice amongst the small trees. Forgot I was in New Jersey I guess! So I’d weed away and feel good about it but I wasn’t too smart. I got poison ivy or poison oak and had to go to the doctor!
Had to put a paste on my itchy spots and I don’t know what else. Maybe I got a pill to take, can’t remember. The Dr kindly showed me what the poison leaf looks like so I could be smarter in my weeding. Not sure if I ever ventured out into the wooded area again.”
She said we had several neighbors. Since New Jersey is really a very crowded place, that’s not surprising. We had people on both side of us and several more at the rear. I don’t remember this, but our driveway was quite steep, although short. One day, David rode his tricycle down the driveway and fell and cut open his forehead. He probably still has the scar to this day. I will check the next time I see him.
Matt was attending kindergarten at this time. He had to ride the bus to school each day. The trouble was, the bus stopped a good long block away and up a steep hill. Are you getting the idea that this part of New Jersey was very hilly. Well, it was. Karen’s not sure just how Matt got to the bus stop, but I’m pretty sure that she or one of the neighbors walked him (and maybe other little kids) up to the stop. I’m pretty sure I didn’t do it as I had a thirty minute drive to work every morning.
One last detail – the color of our house was salmon – a kind of off-pink color. Try to visualize that.
Tomorrow, we get ready to leave for North Dakota.
Dad