Internet photo. 11/24/24.
Scene: Ocean Grove street. A Grover is raking leaves from his grassy strip onto the curb and then into a garbage pail. I pass by in my car.
I stop my car opposite the working Grover and roll down the window:
Me: Hey! The town is supposed to come by with a big sucking machine to take that pile.
He: I have never seen that machine here.
Me: The reason why it hasn’t appeared here is that it is too busy sucking up our tax money.
Note: Other neighbors also rake their leaves into garbage pails and then leave them out until someone comes by and picks them up. It might be the garbage men for the pails, or that big sucker machine for piles , or a neighbor might blow your pile to kingdom come with his battery powered “leaf blower.”
If you leave them in the street, the kids or you can have some fun.
When I was a high school student at Rutherford High, the leaves were set on fire somewhere (not at the curbs) in town, leaving that wonderful aroma in the air as we all walked to Rutherford Field for a home football game.
We wore our band uniforms while those delightful twirlers, cheerleaders. one bulldog walker, and flag-wavers walked with us to the game trudging through the multicolor piles of leaves with their bare legs winking at us as they crunched by knees high.
As for pretty girls, we even had some in the band, but those uniforms had pants, and they had to attract attention by making music–that worked also. I took a flute player to the Junior Prom.
Rutherford had no mega events except for the Memorial Day parade, and no parking problems. There were parking lots for the ball games.
I was on the soccer team, and no cheer leaders, twirlers or flag wavers came to our games. Not even our parents came. Only our coach came, and the only thing which made him smile were my size 16 sneakers. My school mates called me “Goldie” or “Fingers”. But they weren’t sophisticated enough to give me the name “Big Foot.” Even then I liked nick-names.
ROY ORBISON. (“Falling.”)