RUDIMENTS, pt. 312
Making Cars
Growing up in Avenel, as
I did, during those years of
the 1950's and early 1960's,
most things remained the same.
Or, if there were any changes,
we never really knew of them.
It wasn't until the later 1960's
that the big-bang hit - all that
stuff the really changed the
place. Hell, Hudson Boulevard
itself - a tiny street of small
houses - wasn't paved until
1967. Until that point it had
always been a somewhat strange
turn-off to a gravel and dirt road
that started with a bump - as
the car entered it, because it
was unpaved, there was a bump
downward, onto the gravel and
dirt. It was actually quite cool.
Once they put all those apartments
up, at the end of it, out to St. George
Ave., replacing the swamps and
ponds and skunk cabbage fields
and all which until then had been
there, no need for pavement existed.
Once it became more of a thoroughfare
because of 1500 newly arrived people,
there wasn't much choice. Of the
new arrivals, by the way, the
preponderance of them seemed to
be science-type workers at Merck,
(Indians and Pakistanis) or the
usual medical technician types,in
their scrubs and hospital clothes,
I guess for the new JFK Hospital
nearby. That was the first exposure,
which later became very common,
for strange South-Asian types to
be strolling around looking weird
dazed and confused (before Led Zep)
in their swaddling native clothing.
I used to think, 'what the heck?'
It took years before they began to
go native and wear western clothes.
Probably just as strange nonetheless.
To see culture clash suddenly underway
is a place like Avenel seemed absurd.
-
One of the first things I saw was how
people hold onto their old ways. It
didn't happen much on Inman Avenue,
to my knowledge, except for Italians.
Personal experience, of course, but
it was only the Italian families who
were always going on about eggplant
dishes, and spaghetti's and macaroni's
and gravies and sauces. (The word
'Pasta' in and of itself had not yet
entered the lexicon. No one ever
said 'pasta,' except maybe if you
count when they said 'pasta fagioli,'
which was some totally pathetic and
horrid poor-people-Eyetalian dish of
macaroni and beans together. Gross.
How often, I used to mutter, can
stupid people just go on and on
about their god-damned food? It
was very tiresome to me. I didn't
know of these Indian and Pakistani
people did all that kind of stuff too,
but they sure smelled as if they did.
Powdered curries and pungent
spices just made me run for the
border, always. I could never
understand how such a technical
people, seemingly a race of
left-brain thought-process
fanatics, could run so rampant
with the romance of their dress
and curries and flat-breads and
snacks.
-
I did soon enough realize, as well,
that as all this stuff occurred - the
new homes and apartments, the
leveling of whole places - it never
really happened as 'miraculously'
as it appeared. Behind each of these
steps, I later learned through my
local in-town work with NJ Appellate,
St. George Press, and the Independent
Leader, for three, was a bevy of
approving boards : council, zoning,
variance, planning, engineering,
mayor and the rest. From Zirpolo
through Barone and others, many
people were in on the take. That's
how towns get 'built' (they call it
that). Even today, Mayor Joe Vas
of Woodbridge goes at it tooth and
nail. Burnishing his nut, as is said.
All those behind him keep patting
his ass too. It's everywhere - take
a look, from Fanwood to Morristown.
The same ignorant slobber.
-
It's an eye-opener later on when you
realize people you know who have
been in on the take. We had a few of
them - my boyhood chum, Jim, right
across the street, was always bragging
about his Uncle Developer, with a
contracting and excavation company
(still there, just off Rt. 9, Woodbridge),
who was in on, and making royal
money off, these shenanigans - deals
in the claypits, shopping centers,
strips of split-level housing, the old
properties, Centric Clutch, on and
on. Factories moved around, their
old lands were sold off, and they
began anew. The line at the bank
formed at the right. Ask Zirpolo and
Jacks how they liked prison.
-
Living a good life takes a fine devotion.
You can't divulge and you can't keep
compromising. I saw that right off.
And it's always underway; just last
year, right here, still in Avenel, there
was a guy who opened a vegetable
and produce, fresh fruits, and all that,
store at the end of Avenel Street. It's
a crummy town, no one gives a shit
about quality or any of tat stuff, and
there really was no need for the
place at all. Even with all the local
blabbermouths and the silly firemen
sign touting 'Buy Local.' There's just
really nothing local to buy - after
they've given the entire hometown
their claiming for away to ever national
chain of toilet-sweeps they can find.
When that happens, they brag about
the jobs it brings in. So, you can go
figure all that crap out for yourself,
while you're waiting, probably, in that
same bank line as Mayor Vas. Anyway,
where this vegetable store guy screwed
up, and I could see it right off the bat,
(but this is the pattern for small-town
no-places now) was when he, first,
began pleading for customers on the
local town-facebook site. Bad move.
And then, really going bad, a sign
appears in his window 'We have
Ice Cream!' In a few months he was
gone. It was obvious : once you
dilute your premise, water down
your being, your purpose, begin
clutching at straws, you're doomed.
No one needed his fresh produce.
He should have known that. There
have been numerous failures of the
same attempt over the years. And I
mean numerous. Business isn't pity.
You can't beg. You're selling fresh
vegetables, that should be the premise.
No one needs ice cream. they too are
a dime a dozen around here.
-
No one, I saw early on, ever learns
these lessons until they get hurt. The
poor guy probably has now, along
with a failed business, lost incorporation
money, tax, and insurance, ten years
of payment ahead of him on a
small-business loan that's dead meat
yet still needs paying. Too bad.
BUT, I want you, as reader here,
to be able to realize that it's like
that with ideas too. Stay pure and
flowing with your original thoughts,
ride that crest and no other. Don't
dilute, don't break down into the
smaller pieces of ice cream your
grander premise. For God's sake
be bold; have some strength; stand
up for something, Don't whittle and
don't beg. Or you'll end up a councilman
instead of an individual. Life is too
good, and too filled with promise,
and the possibilities of learning and
creativity, to end up like a dog,
licking a bowl.
No comments:
Post a Comment