The Best Christmas Tree Ever

I'll never forget the year that my Dad got our best Christmas tree ever!
It was Christmas Eve and  we had not gotten a tree that year. I think it was mostly because none of us cared that much and with only one car in the family and one driver at this point, it wasn't the easiest thing to do.
My Dad came home from work after supper time which was unusual as he always worked the night shift and usually came home well after midnight. I guess he got off early because it was Christmas Eve.  He was usually in a good mood and this night was no exception.
My dad did have a twisted sense of humor. When asked one day if got a promotion from his normal janitorial duties, he replied yes, as that day he was asked to clean 8 toilets instead of the usual 4!
I think my brothers and I complained about the lack of a tree to the point where he finally caved in and said okay, let's take a ride to Two Guys, the discount department store, who had a tree lot in their parking area.
Back then, Christmas tree lots were not as numerous as they seem to be today, as we drove about 25 minutes to get to the Two Guys store.

It was late by this time, and although my memory is foggy on the exact time, it had to be like 8:30 or so. We were the only buyers in the lot.There were still a lot of trees left and we started to look around for what would be our tree that year. The most expensive tree back then went for about $12.
Shockingly, my very frugal dad picked out a 10 foot tree marked at $12.00. How frugal was he? Well not to gross you out, but he made soap from partially used bars of soap from the boys locker room at our high school, where he worked for a time.
So my dad brings the tree to the  guy who was running the lot and says basically that we expect a deal on the tree as it's late on Christmas Eve and your prospects of selling even one more tree are bleak. The guy's first offer, whatever it was, was unrealistically high given the circumstances. My father, in  textbook negotiation fashion, offered the guy his first and final offer...one dollar!
The lot owner made the "fritz" face, and said how that was not a bona fide offer and said he would not part with the magnificent tree for such a paltry sum.
Then my Dad uttered the words which I can still recall as plainly today as when they were first spoken over forty plus  years ago:
"Look, it's late..you are closing in 15 minutes or so, so you can go home and be with your family. My sons and I will come back in half an hour and take the tree then, for free."

Faced with my Dad's most logical argument, the lot owner took the dollar from my Dad's hand and gave us the tree. I cannot recall any bitterness from the lot owner.
But, I can recall the look on my Mom's face when we walked in with the best and biggest tree we ever had!

Thanksgiving- The Underrated Holiday

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I know I am in the minority on this one. But consider all the positives:
there's no commercialism associated with it
you get to eat a lot of great food
you get to see your relatives
gratitude, I'm told, is very good for you mentally
the whole idea behind it is 100% uncontroversial
everyone can celebrate it
you get to eat a lot of good food! ( I know I mentioned that already)

So why is it so underrated? 
After all, there are maybe 5 songs about Thanksgiving, and I'll bet you can't sing more than one of them . (if you're lucky!)
No one celebrates Thanksgiving Eve.
Decorations (outside of  primary school classrooms) are non existent.
Thanksgiving greeting cards probably sell at the level of Happy Birthday Martin Van Buren cards.
There are no television specials about it.
Was there ever a movie made with Thanksgiving as it's theme?

I think you get my point.
So, I ask you this year, to ponder what a great holiday Thanksgiving truly is, and show it some respect.
But most of all, be sure to give thanks...and a lot of it!

Halloween- or what is non chocolate crap?

We gave out Hershey bars this year..they call them "fun size". I call them microscopic in comparison to the full sized candy bars I lusted after during my days as a trick or treater.
You have got to know that my parents rarely, if ever, bought us candy during the year. Halloween was the one time of year where you could gorf yourself...and gorf I did.
Once I got past the "fun" of Halloween as little kid , I realized that the trick or treating had to be taken very seriously. Route planning and asset utilization were key. First rule: go with no more than one other person...alone was even better. Any group larger than two slowed you down. Secondly, you had to carefully choose  what streets you would hit. A neighborhood like the one I live in now was a terrible choice, as the houses are way too far apart.
Hollywood Avenue was about the most perfect place to go . On one side of the street there were duplexes.

The strategy was to ring both doorbells at once. Any delay in answering was met by me moving on to the next house. Time was your biggest enemy. The take on Hollywood Avenue was so prolific, that we would switch masks and go to each house again.
You needed the right bag too. The best one we had was a green canvas bag with handles, that stood up to the weight and the weather. Bullies could not rip it apart either. We would plan our route so that as the bag filled, we would go home to empty out the bag, swallow supper whole, and quench our thirst.
My mother was part of the business that night too.You would empty your bag onto the kitchen table where the night's loot would be segregated into bowls by distinct categories: chocolate, lolly pops, licorice, gum, coins, non chocolate crap like Mike and Ike's, candy corn,small wrapped candies, and "other". Candy corn was put back into those little bags you got and given out to whoever came to our house, as we all hated it. All candy collected by my younger brother was pooled.
You can't believe how much candy I would collect...the bowls had to be supplemented with backup bowls.

One year, I came home close to like 8:30, really tired, ready to call it a night, but my older brother severely coaxed me into going down one more street. I remember people's snarky comments about how late it was...I mean no one else was out there when we finished at 9 PM.
The days that followed could only be described as an orgy of candy eating. By Thanksgiving, it was all gone!

Milkman. et al

When I was growing up, all kinds of products were delivered right to your door, by an assortment of  interesting characters.
I can still see our small aluminum colored milk box on our back porch, which held maybe 4-6 quarts of milk. We got delivery a few times a week and it was great going out there on a snowy morning and grabbing 2 quarts or more of fresh milk. Once in a great while, my parents would pop for a chocolate milk. I think you filled out an order slip each week, telling your milkman (ours was named Vic) what you needed for the next week.

The strangest thing we got delivered was bleach..or as my mom called it , "no worry". This couple would come by and take your empty bleach bottles right out of the cellar and replace them with several other gallons. What service!
There was the old fish guy too, who I was scared of, pushing his fish cart down the street yelling out : FISH! Although we never bought from this guy, he would occasionally fill his water bucket from our outside hose line, which still irks me for some reason to this day.
For a while we had an egg guy making the rounds and of course the more corporate Charles Chips vehicle, who delivered snacks to the doors of the more affluent.

Other scarier door to door types came by regularly, like this poor guy who walked in a very slow, crippled sort of way. He wore a suit, carried a valise, and I think sold fabric and ribbons. I was terrified of this guy and would only watch him from a distance.

To round out the excitement that always seemed to be swirling around our neighborhood, was Kenny, the delivery guy from the mini supermarket . He would deliver the groceries you bought right to your house, in a shopping cart,
all the while loudly singing such  favorites as "School Days" . His melodies were tailored to the seasons.  His philosophy included such spoken gems as "nice day, too bad it's raining" He suffered from some mental disability and was a little scary, but in the end, harmless.

Looking back on things, childhood life in this regard was damn  interesting.

Garbage Picking

Garbage Picking

If you've seen the television show American Pickers on The History Channel, you know that these

two gentlemen travel around the United States, scouring barns, junkyards, basements and backyards looking for diamonds in the rough.

I'm here to confess to you that I was a habitual garbage picker in my youth, and occasionally those old habits return, even to this present day.

“CLEAN UP WEEK OCTOBER 10-15” That sign on one of Fereday and Myers garbage trucks in my hometown of Hillside, NJ, sent ripples of delight thru my adolescent body. It meant that for that week, one could put virtually anything out at the curb for the garbageman to pick up and they would so, gratis. I guess it was a way to stimulate the hoarders out there to part with the crap they had accumulated over the past year or so, and to encourage everyone else to do some fall cleaning.

Let me tell you, it worked! Homeowners in Hillside put more stuff out there than you could possibly imagine. Everything from washing machines, lawn chairs, furniture,windows, car parts, wood, old bikes and boxes and bags of potpourri that defied description.

The potpourri is what got me excited. You never knew what could be found in those boxes and bags at the curb. Comic books, toys, tools, sporting goods, books and assorted other treasures. I still have a salesman's sample case of crushed rocks and metals! I didn't realize it at the time, but we were not well off financially, so Clean Up Week was like Christmas around our house.

Our garbage pickup was on Mondays and Thursdays, which meant that folks started to put out their unwanted treasures late on Sunday afternoon. My job was to ride around our section of town on my trusty Columbia bike and make a mental note of the locations that I could hype up to my father, so we could drive around together around dusk and garbage pick. I'd feel out my dad a few days before this, to find out what on his list for that year. Maybe it was screens, windows, or lumber. Whatever it was, I had to make it worth his while to drive me around that night. Looking back, it wasn't all that difficult, as my dad shared my love of getting great stuff for free. While there was quite a dichotomy of what he was looking for, versus my my own desires, the essential attraction of that evening was mutual.

We would get out in the early evening, flashlights and rope at the ready. I would navigate for my dad, directing him to the caches I had scouted out earlier on my earlier reconnaissance. One had to be nimble as the competition could be fierce from both the professional and amateur garbage pickers. We avoided glances with our fellow seekers, who were out there in force that night, sheepishly doing the same thing we were.

As my dad stopped the car, I would excitedly jump out of it to further inspect any garbage pile that looked promising and shout out to my dad what I had discovered..a good screwdriver, jars of nails and screws, garden tools, a plant stand, or whatever. I balanced Dad's needs with my own, rummaging thru the piles for the books, records, sports gear or any other kid type stuff that caught my eye. The anticipation of what one MIGHT find was almost always greater than the actual outcome.

Although, one year, I hit the garbage picker's mother lode!

It happened when I was out there by myself on a Monday , on my bike, still hoping to glean any last minute treasures. Because of the sheer volume of garbage, the trash collectors were still out there even as the day was ending.

I was in a neighborhood pretty far from my own, on a dead end street that I rarely frequented. The garbage pile in front of this house was not spectacular, but my picking instincts were finely honed by this point , and I instinctively knew there was something good in this particular trash pile.

Some unfortunate kid's mom must have dumped out most all of his stuff from his opulent toy box. It was a spectacular collection of army men and vehicles, other toy trucks and some other great stuff that had me pinching myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Just as I began to rifle thru this amazing assortment of great stuff, I heard the sounds which are every garbage picker's nightmare....it was a garbage truck bearing down on me, and it was maybe 3 houses away, coming towards the garbage stash that only occurs once, if ever, in a lifetime.

I quickened my efforts, heart racing, adrenaline pumping, and continued to stuff my pants pockets with everything I could manage to cram in them. Did I fill a box or bag with what wouldn't fit into my kid pants? I don't remember, but I'd like to think I did. I do recall that some of the precious items in there for the taking, had to be left behind, as I triaged my way thru this unbelievable stock pile, grabbing whatever I could, intensely excited with my good fortune.

Then quickly, the garbage truck was upon me, and I had to reluctantly retreat. That was the greatest collection of stuff I had ever picked and no other time could match it. I did pick more valuable stuff at other times, like a set of Lionel trains for instance, but that afternoon's picking still resonates with me. Maybe it was the pressure I was under to glean those treasures so quickly....like being under enemy fire in battle. Or maybe it's because I rescued those items from certain doom at the dump.

Maybe it's unusual to have one of your fondest kid memories be about a garbage picking triumph, but it still makes me smile to this day.

I just wish I could have crammed just a little more stuff into my pockets that day.