Saturday, May 17, 2014
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Pat and I were good friends and grew up in the same neighborhood.....him on Burnside St and me in a cold water flat on the corner of Burnside and Washington. We both attended Cleveland St school, though I was one year ahead of him. Pat and I had common interests....we loved to go fishing. Him and I hitch hiked often to various lakes all over north Jersey, but it seems all we ever caught were sunfish and an occasional catfish. Never the less, we had good times doing it......often leaving early in the morning and returning around supper time......we never had lunch and did not have any money for lunch.
The neighborhood we grew up in was working class and most families lived hand to mouth. we were all poor, some of us very much so, but it didn't seem to bother us much as kids because we were all in the same boat.
We spent summers around Ropes playground playing softball, and basketball and touch football in the fall.
I can clearly remember sometimes we had to wait for the "big guys' (of which pat's brothers Joe and Ed were two) to finish their game of softball before we little guys could have the field. We never seemed to mind and anyway there wasn't anything we could do about it. It's just the way things were.
Then the Korean War began and all of the big guys left for the army or the navy and we had the playground to ourselves. It wasn't long and boys smaller than us then had to wait there turn at the field.
The summer of 1956 stands out in my mind as Pat, me, Alan Schroeder, and Jack Palardy did a complete motor job on Alan's 1950 Mercury next to Jack's house. That summer was the last one that we were all together as Pat left for the navy, Alan for the air force, and jack for the army. Nick Miele also joined the navy that summer. I waited for my draft notice which came in '61.
We all pretty much went our separate ways after that summer and I suppose that is the way things are meant to be.
I sometimes think about my old friends and the old neighborhood, and recall Jimmy's barbershop, Johnson's Auto Repair, Jack Lynch's store, Frank Whirty, the coal and ice man (he's buried very close to your parents),all the big guys hanging around the corner, and walking to 9:00 mass at St. John's. I remember Pat's mother and father, all his brothers and sisters and the many different kids who lived on Burnside street and the surrounding streets of Heyward and Carroll. It seemed as though there was always a group of kids around...all outside making noise....no video games or TV to keep us indoors.
I was saddened to read of Pat's passing in the Star Ledger, and wish I could have seen him one more time. Strange, but the last time I saw him was a year ago chance meeting at Gate of Heaven Cemetery where both of us were visiting our parents graves. We both noted that it would not be long and we would be there too. Just about everyone from the old neighborhood is up there waiting for us.
Eternal peace to you, Pat.
Sincere condolences to Verjean and family.
