Let me return to last week’s article about Glen Ridge, New Jersey and add a few thoughts which have surfaced in the meantime. I mentioned that one of the streets was named Hawthorne Avenue. Our backyard backed up against the backyards of those on Hawthorne Avenue. There is also a city in New Jersey named Hawthorne. The tree or shrub of the same name, however, is spelled hawthorn ? at least it is in all of the sources which I have just checked.
As children, we didn’t stray too terribly far from home and Hawthorne Avenue wasn’t usually on the itinerary. After I had finished writing and had sent the article to the paper, I couldn’t help but think about how much of a time of innocence those years were. We played in the neighborhood without being watched. We went to an area we called “the woods.” This was about a half a block away from the house and around 1950 was probably one of the last areas in the borough which hadn’t been built up. There were no photos of this, but I’m quite certain that the real estate industry has developed it long, long ago. We would also go to the playground at the other end of the block. Walking the dog took us farther away and out of earshot of “the whistle.” This was uniquely ours and when vented by my mother, it had better be answered ? or else! I guess we were deemed to be safer when accompanied by the dog ? a Gordon Setter, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, but also wouldn’t tolerate any harm, or appearance thereof, to her family. I know that when my firstborn was the same age, these liberties were not extended. Nowadays, with the three grandchildren, strictures are even tighter. Those kids are watched pretty carefully. It’s a different world today. What seems sort of amazing to me, though, is the fact that Glen Ridge is only about ten miles (as the crow flies) from downtown New York City. Here in Dover, we tend to think of that as somewhat scary territory to let children play on their own. I don’t know what the policy is there today, but I bet people are a little more careful of their children.
I also mentioned last week that I would walk the dog along the park behind the houses on Lorraine Street, which were fenced off from the playground. Though the homes were relatively small and the yards were what we might call postage-stamp-sized, there was a whole lot of gardening that went on in those small patches. One of my favorite trees was in the rear corner of the first house on the street. I never knew its name in those years, but within the not-too-far-distant past I have tracked it down. It’s a hawthorn tree! One source lists it as Crataegus oxycantha ‘Paul’s Scarlet.’ It is listed both as originating in Europe and as the English Hawthorn. Remembering a bit more, on my part, was the fact that the people who lived in that house (though I didn’t know them) were named Pringle and they were originally from England. The tree matures at around twenty feet tall and has dark pink to red, double flowers, produced in late spring and early summer. There are limited red berries in autumn. Aside from some thorns (hence the name) and some suckering, these are pretty little trees, quite hardy, and should be planted more often.
I wonder if the tree is still there ? highly unlikely. I wonder if kids still sled down the hill at the north side of the park in the winter. I’m sure that the playground equipment has been updated.
One thing I’m sure of, though, is that the gardens in the backyards are still looking good. That I can tell from the photos!