Growing up in a small town in Southern New Jersey

Tuesday, August 5, 2008


This has nothing to do with hair, and it has nothing to do with ice.

Today is a wonderfully dreary stormy day. It is exactly the kind of day you just want to curl up in a wing chair with a book and read.

I recall a morning not unlike this when I was about 17 or 18 and it was storming in the morning -- a rarity in NJ. Usually the storms came in the afternoon or early evening. But it was a stormy morning, and because it was so dark the lights were on. I recall on that morning Mr. Charlie Dawson came to pick up my dad to go somewhere and told him that he didn't think they could go because the roads were flooded.

Well, that's all I remember about the conversation, but I remember after that, because it was warm -- after all it was summer -- I got my book (probably a Grace Livingston Hill classic) and went out on the front porch and read for most of the day.

Oh, I probably practiced the piano for hours as well, but I know I went out on the porch and curled up with that book.

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