A Million Little Pieces Of My Mind

It only took us about 5 hours to make our way from Reston to Hasbrouck Heights, NJ, where my half-sister Betty Ann lived with her husband, the Reverend John Dow, and his three grown kids Margie, Craig and Susie (who by then had a husband and baby of her own).

We then proceeded to the town of Garfield, where I lived up through first grade. Looking back, I don't know how I managed without Google Maps; but somehow I was able to find my home street, MacArthur Avenue, and to photograph the places I remembered.

That started with Mt Virgin Catholic Church. My main memory of that was attending Mass with my mom. It was boring, so I would play with the Rosary my mom loaned me, putting the little crucifix in my palm, and pretending the beads were Roman soldiers tackling Jesus.

On the same block as my house (one block over from the church) was the corner store. I was allowed to go there by myself, as a child. When any adult's birthday approached, Mom or Gramma would give me a couple of dollar bills, and I would trot down to the corner store to buy a carton of cigarettes as their birthday gift from me.

My primary friends when I was a kid were the Galluchios, who lived in the flat-fronted house on the right, above. Joena (pronounced Joe-Eena), the middle daughter, was my "girlfriend". We used to have weddings, which were officiated by her older sister who wanted to be a priest.

And above, to the right is the apartment building next to my house, and on the left is the front of my house, 248 MacArthur Avenue, an address my mom had made sure I had memorized.

I was somewhat surprised to find that the vacant lot that abutted my old house, was still vacant! (That was the lot where a flying saucer used to land when visiting me. Really.)

And, finally, the bar at the other corner, where my dad used to hang out—at least, often enough that they knew who he was the time I got caught in a blizzard while wandering the neighborhood and went in for shelter. (They gave me a hot chocolate and called him to come get me.)

But the trip wasn't yet over: We were about to take a ferry to Vermont.