Editorials, letters to the editor and other articles reflecting on iconic people, places and traditions related to them in the area.
An almost winter reprise in honor of unseasonably warm weather and RFH times … Really. What’s better than some RFH girls on the … stage.
On the cusp of winter, a waft of warm air has blown in. With it came memories of beached days — staged ones, at least, with some RFH beach girls (and boys?).
Continue reading Retro RFH Beach Girls
Pick a cane, any cane. One? Two? Just give us a smile and stop wailing, kid!
Continue reading Santa ‘Sleighs’ Her!
Perspective. It’s all about perspective, especially when it comes to a familiar riverfront scene in Rumson. No matter what way you look at it, it’ll light you up from inside.
So focusing on the sunset view from one simple holiday vantage point offers a closer look at being home for the holidays. Staying there, always in the heart.
This time, sitting at a high-top with a Barnacle Bill’s view through a wreath wraps it up — the gift. Sun down, lights up, the reflection is all about home and the little glints we will never miss if we keep the memories alive through our lone perspective — our view.
The flicker of even one light on a wreath’s full circle lens mesmerizes. It smiles and winks back with a bright flash. A glimmer of a memory gleams. It warms. It never blinds.
Seeing the light often means looking back, focusing on that one teensy, mammoth view of one moment in time.
Once upon a time, the best of teenage girlfriends guffawed over bad engagement pictures in the paper and awful boys. They nursed some coffee and a basket of fried zucchini sticks, satiated by the salty company. Shelling peanuts and rolling them in sea salt on their crumpled paper placemats, they mused about one day missing their misadventures, about coming home after college, about coming back to their table, to their time. They always came back, even when they could no longer sit together. One left at the table, the two still came back with the flash. The view focused, full circle, bright, never lost on either of them.
Look for yours … (click, enlarge, scroll) through the … wreath.
— Photos & reflective piece/Elaine Van Develde
There’s some light in the weekend weather forecast. Here it is, from the National Weather Service. Shine on, view …
Call it a fall for reflective river time. The effects are far-reaching, staying with you wherever you go, each ripple always reaching out past the reflection to bring you home.
River reflection. Ripple effect. It’s all about taking a closer look. Noticing the little things. The mirror image. The slightest crimp in the freeze frame that emanates from the wind’s whisper. It’s hushed secret-telling.
But it’s no secret. The pilings are anchored home. Each curl that you can see in the reflection’s blur will eventually reach the shore, bringing with it the focus in that reflective microcosm of change.
It’s what keeps us all studying that one mesmerizing ripple that reached us. The one that always latches onto our toes in the sand. The one that moves back out and in with the tide. The one that brings us back home and keeps us there in the ruffled clarity of what really matters. Where it all came from — the center. Home.
All it takes is one ripple to seek you out and find you, warmed by a crisp fall moment on the banks of the river in Fair Haven.
Take a look at the photo gallery above to remember what brings you back. (And click to enlarge and scroll. Enjoy!)
It’s always river time, but fall river days are dwindling. Here’s what’s in store for the next week’s fall weather from the National Weather Service …
The following miserable children with Santa photo and narrative was originally posted in 2015. We just can’t resist featuring this classic again. Meet (or re-meet) the Harvey kids …
The search continues for Rumson-Fair Haven Retrospect’s miserable children with Santa photos.
Continue reading Retro Santa Trauma II
Show time is tomorrow for the RFH Tower Players’ fall production of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow back on the stage at the high school. In honor of opening night curtain and returning to the stage, we offer a look back at a trip down the RFH Yellow Brick Road to Oz and some staged wizardry of the early 1970s at RFH.
I have a feeling we’re not in Rumson-Fair Haven Regional High School (RFH) anymore …
Continue reading Retro RFH Show Time: Oz Wizadry“Susan was a free spirited and fun loving woman, with an infectious laugh and mischievous personality.”
That’s what loved ones said about Red Bank resident, former local newspapers’ ad sales rep, flight attendant and substitute teacher, Susan J. Wilson, 68, who passed away at her home on Nov. 2.
Continue reading In Memoriam: Remembering Former Newspaper Ad Sales Rep Susan Wilson, 68
Benched. It implies punishment of sorts. Not when you’re parked on a time capsuled bench at the river on the Fair Haven Dock.
And when the daytime sun drenches the seat you pick, all that’s wrong with anyone’s world seems to melt through the cracks, lifting the light in the spirit to meet the one in the sky.
Call it high hopes. The soaring, soothing warmth of it all just doesn’t reach higher heights, as long as benched time is river time … soaking it up. Diving back into time, sopping up the comfort of those feelings linked to the memories down by the river. Not a bad one there. Benched.
(Click on one of the photos above to enlarge and scroll. Remember and enjoy!)
There will be lots of sun to sop up on a riverfront seat this week. Here’s the weather forecast for the Rumson-Fair Haven area from the National Weather Service.
Photo/George Day
A reprise from Oct. 1, 2015 to give a little cheer on a dank day. A little tricks and treating among RFH loungers. Always an adventure of some sort at RFH …
There was nothing quite like becoming a senior at RFH and being able to hang out in a special lounge just for you and your classmates, especially on a dismal October day.
Nothing was getting anyone down if they were senior lounging in the cozy RFH indoors. Of course, there was always something seniors were up to. Call it mod. Literally.
Those were the days — in the 1970s.
The whole senior scene, in fact, was quite mod, or literally modular.
In anticipation of the return of the Fair Haven Firemen’s Fair, we take a look back again at a game of chance, its history and families that spin together.
Most often, working at the Fair Haven Firemen’s Fair is a longtime family affair.
So, the Retro Pic of the Day today is an ode to just that, in addition to featuring those behind the booths.
Continue reading Retro Fair Family Affair Spin“If you could only sense how important you are to the lives of those you meet; how important you can be to the people you may never even dream of. There is something of yourself that you leave at every meeting with another person.”
Fred Rogers
And sometimes that meeting comes every day with the same person on the same street for about half a century. What is left stays … in the neighborhood heart.
“How ya doin’?” It’s what I heard in a friendly, mellow cadence from across the street pretty much every day for most of my life. It was a soothing, subtle reminder that I was home and a good neighbor was always there, looking out, never judging, nitpicking or naysaying. Caring, instead, with a knowing smile and a few simple words.
Knowing. Knowing that we were all there for the same reason. Neighborhood. Simple gestures. That’s all it really takes. And take it to microcosmic heights unknown is what this one neighbor did. Daily.
The neighbor was Conrad. Conrad Decher. The forever Fair Haven guy from my 54-year block was laid to rest on Monday. His spirit, however, will always be fluttering around. The flutter. It’s gentle. It’s not grand, not intrusive. Still, it’s deliberate. It stays — a subtle, soft, strong, consistent gesture. Like a heartbeat. After all, here, in the heart, stays the neighborhood.
Continue reading Beautiful Days in the Neighborhood: Remembering Conrad from the Block“Her life was meaningful, and she made a positive impact wherever she went. Her family is very proud of the legacy Joyce left behind.“
Family of Joyce Scanlon in her obituary
Legacy. Positive impact. Moments. Impressions. Intricate inflections from one person in the neighborhood. They’re bigger than a neighborhood kid in a small town would think. Snippets from somebody’s mom who likely never knew she or they would be remembered. They would matter.
Then you become an adult, and start to age. And you’ve unwittingly become, or hope to become, that person to someone. You’re somebody’s mom. Oh, there’s not just one of those moms. In a small community, there are many — if you’re looking hard enough to see the microcosms. If you pay attention to those daydreams that made your mind wander about who that lady really is beyond a mom. If you tuck the little things revealed in the musings carefully away in that niche of your mind that rears itself to remind you of what matters.
When you’re that neighborhood kid and all through adulthood, every single time you pass by the home of your childhood friend and classmate, you smile and sigh contentedly — a homesick stalker. Of course, you should have stopped. But it never really occurs to you that one day you won’t be able to and it’ll be up to you to remember the little things. They won’t leave.
The drive-by brings back a waft of simple thoughts of that lady with the bright blue eyes, warm smile and caring way all wrapped up in a no-frills stretchy hair band. It’s then that you know you’re lucky to have grown up with yet another one of those people in your life.
And you remember. You just never forget those little things, like the time you were at that sixth grade Stokes trip and she was volunteering there. She was there for all the kids. And they surely had their moments, too. But, that one day, when something profound was on your wandering, weird mind and you found her by the lake, likely deep in her own thoughts, escaping kids like you, she saw you, smiled and listened as you rattled on about something you thought was so very deep and important.
It was likely that you were scared of that night’s square dance or that the boys, maybe even hers, would capsize your canoe just for laughs. You couldn’t swim. Only in the pool in your back yard or at Camp Arrowhead. A lake was different. In your weird little mind, it had the potential to swallow you whole into the belly of some ominous beast. Or you had anxiety about the popular kids in your cabin. You philosophized quite seriously about all of the kid stuff, earnestly believing in your maturity and depth. She listened like you were a peer. You remembered. She saw you, that kid. You saw her. That mom, a grown-up lady.
It seemed like your secret. She understood you like no other. From then on, she was your secret pal. There were sporadic conversations as you got older, grew up with her kids, in the Acme, at an event or walking down the street. There may have even been more big girl chats. The knowingness was in her eyes each time, even if she struggled to remember your name, whose kid you were, which kid of hers you knew. She always somehow saw you and understood you. And though you’d like to think you were special to this neighborhood lady, somebody’s mom, she just unknowingly had that effect on everyone. She just saw everyone.
And, years later, when you never stopped, but always asked about her, feeling as if this somebody’s mom would terminally be around, you find out it’s too late to stop, to tell her. Her son, your friend since kindergarten, sends a message. She has passed away. Who was even thinking that she had already gotten to the age of 90? Not this kid … at 60. That somebody’s mom who knew every kid mattered, who had that unknowing effect, was Fair Haven’s Joyce Scanlon.
Rest In Peace, Joyce, knowing you mattered in that little town in that special niche in the world — and far beyond.
Here’s what Joyce’s family had to say about her in her obituary …
Longtime Fair Havenite Joyce E. Scanlon (nee Nelson) passed away on July 20. She was 90.
Immersed in the community, while raising four children, Joyce worked in the Fair Haven school system for many years, coached girls’ softball, and volunteered in any way she could. She also was an avid participant in Boy Scouts, beginning as a den mother, then working endless summers at Quail Hill Camp as the Arts & Crafts Director until she was awarded the scouts’ highest honor from the Monmouth County Council.
Joyce was also lifelong Yankees’ fan, attending Babe Ruth’s funeral at Yankee Stadium as a teenager.
“She loved movies, took adult Spanish classes, and cooking. Maybe most (paramount) of all was her love of nature and animals.
Family of Joyce Scanlon
She adopted many animals and loved them all. She traveled to Maine nearly every year of her life, most often camping.
Her genuine, kind personality led her to
many wonderful friendships and experiences.”
Born in Kearny, Joyce graduated from Kearny High School, where she was the drum majorette leading the Kardinal Marching Band at every parade.
After high school she attended Bucknell University, focusing on creative writing and a general pursuit of greater knowledge as a member of Delta Zeta sorority.
After school, she worked for Blue Cross in Newark before marrying Martin J. Scanlon in 1957, who moved in across the street from her on Stuyvesant Avenue. The couple moved to Fair Haven where they remained, raising their children and living their lives out.
Joyce was predeceased by her parents, Harry and Kathryn Nelson, and her loving husband of 52 years, Martin J. Scanlon.
She is survived by: her children, Ellen, and her husband Cameron, Harry, Jim, and his wife Veronica, and Steve, and his wife Patti; her grandchildren, Alex, Matt, Lynelle, Carolyn, and Holly; and her step-grandchildren Jake and Madison Clapp.
Visitation will be Sunday, July 25, from 2 to 5 p.m. at Thompson Memorial Home, Red Bank. A graveside service will be held on Monday, July 26, at 10 a.m. at Mt. Olivet Cemetery, Middletown.
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