Growing up in a small town in Southern New Jersey

Monday, February 16, 2015

Bad boys.

I imagine many of you know who the bad boys are, but I'll start at the beginning.  I've been "concepting' this for weeks.

I don't remember what time of year it was, or what year it was, all I know is that it was one really bad, bad evening, not only for me, but for my brothers, Markie and Diddle.  Somehow my sister, Debbie, even though she was involved, got off with a smile from mommy.

I was "baby sitting" while my parents were at an evening service at the church.  I hated "baby sitting' chores because my brothers really were bad little boys.

Well, this evening, unbeknownst to me they got into the cough syrup.  Cough syrup -- high alcohol content.  They were LITTLE boys. 

After sharing a bottle of the syrup, they decided to play Ramar of the Jungle (after a popular TV show in the 50s) and got out my mother's largest knives.  I think my sister helped with that one.  And thinking they were hacking their way through the jungle with said knives, they decided to hack away at the doorway into the kitchen.  Yes, that's right.  They chopped away at the door frame.

The evidence of this dastardly deed is still visibly today, or at least it was in 2011, the last time I was in my childhood home.

I sent my drunk sister over to the church to get my mother, who ran right home (about 200 feet).  Needless to say, she was not please, but not nearly as not pleased as my father was after church was over.

Did I ever babysit them again?  I don't remember.  And truthfully, I only remember that one night because the story expands with each telling! :)


For more information, Facebook John Mark Drexler and ask him.

Thunder snow

After watching Jim Cantore's "thundersnow" video all day today (we're having our first snow, so I've been watching the weather channel, which didn't exist when I lived in Runnemede), I decided to write a short epistle on my first remembrance of thundersnow.

My husband, Alan, and I had only been married 4 months.  It was Christmas Eve.  (Make that 4 months and 2 days).  It was our first Christmas as a married couple.

We knew we were going to spend several days with his parents in Ventnor, NJ, because they were heading back to Kenya (missionaries) for another 5-year stint, and we were spending Christmas eve-eve and Christmas Eve with my parents.  We were travelling to Ventnor on Christmas morning.

Well, wouldn't you know?  It started to snow on Christmas Eve around seven o'clock.  It was warmish, and the snow was big, heavy, flakes, coming down pretty hard.  All of a sudden I saw what I thought was lightening.

How could that be?  It was snowing.  Then I heard what I thought was thunder.  Well, it was snow thunder, and it happened several more times during that "winter storm" which was not named, by the way.

Alan and I loved snow and playing in it, making snow angels, having snowball fights, building snowmen, etc.  We were young, what more can I say.

Well, about the time we were leaving for Ventnor on Christmas morning another thunder-snow-storm came rolling through.  When we left there was 13 inches of snow on the ground in Runnemede.  On our way down to Ventnor, the snow accumulations became less and less and so did the snow falling earthward.

It was certainly a Christmas to be remembered.  Our first as husband and wife, and our first experience with thunder snow.