Knowlton (Township) New Jersey - #SkywatchFriday

If I mentioned Knowlton to you, you might well give me a blank look.

But if I mention the Delaware Water Gap - well, that's something different.

The Delaware Water Gap, on the border between Pennsylvania and New Jersey, is a "gap"where a river (the Delaware River, in this case) cuts through a mountain range.  Not only is the Delaware Water Gap a major recreational area in the Northeast United States, but it has historical significance, too, as it allowed travel in colonial times - the steep mountains on either side would have made travel quite difficult.

It is beautiful and the sky was, too, on this September day in 2016 when we traveled this road from Pennsylvania into New Jersey.

Ah, late summer, crossing the Delaware River.

Are they saying the view is postcard perfect?

I thought it was, as we crossed into rural Knowlton Township, New Jersey. 

Join Yogi and the other bloggers who watch the sky at #SkywatchFriday.

"K" day at #AtoZChallenge.  My theme:  "Finding America through Photos".

Local Saturday - An Exotic Tale

This weekend marks the start of Diwali, the most important (or so I understand) Indian holiday of the year.  The holiday gets its name from clay lamps that Indians light outside their homes, and celebrates the victory of good over evil.  This five day festival, I read, is celebrated with bonfires, fireworks, strings of lights, and gold.  Friends and family visit, food is shared, and...well, it sounds like a lot of fun.

I first heard of Diwali last year, after I somehow (I don't even remember how) got introduced to a community of online bloggers who live, for the most part, in India.  I, on the other hand, live in upstate New York and have never been off the North American continent.

Thinking of Diwali makes me think of a friend now gone, and a town in New Jersey.

Last September (2015), my best friend from childhood passed away after a long struggle with cancer.  She was only six months older than I am.  In the religion both of us grew in, there is a ceremony called an "unveiling" within the first year of someone's passing.  It is, basically, a dedication of the headstone and a memorial service for the deceased.  Normally, only close family and friends are invited. 

I was honored to receive an invitation from my late friend's husband to attend my friend's unveiling.  Although they lived in Brooklyn, it turns out she was interred near Woodbridge, New Jersey.

While researching a motel, I saw that Woodbridge was near a community called Edison.  It sounded familiar.

I had heard about Edison from some of those Indian bloggers. The Edison-Iselin area, I recalled, has the largest community of Indians in the United States.  Even better, I remembered that one of my spouse's cousins lived in Edison.

We contacted him and his wife, and they told us we were more than welcome to stay with them overnight.  Then, I asked the Indian bloggers if they had ever heard of Edison. Some had, and one, in fact, one had even just returned from a visit to Edison.  She recommended some restaurants.

Small world.  And it was about to get smaller.

Delaware Water Gap, near Pennsylvania-New Jersey border

The drive from the Binghamton, New York area to Edison was uneventful.  The weather was beautiful.

As we got off the highway and approached the  Iselin-Menlo park area, it was obvious we were entering a different cultural area.

My spouse's cousins lived not far off a road called Oak Tree Road.  We drove down that street, in amazement, looking at storefronts with Hindi signs, seeing jewelry store after jewelry store, stores featuring Indian women's wear, restaurants, and more.

"You haven't seen anything yet", said the cousins, after dinner.  "Let us take you down Oak Tree Road after dark.  In fact, do you want to go in some of the stores? I'll take you."  But we knew this cousin had to be somewhere at 3am the next morning, so we declined.  Still, we took the nighttime drive.

This is some of what we saw.  To some of my readers, these sights will be every day.  To me - dare I use the word "exotic"?  Exotic: "From far away, unusual, exciting".

(Sorry, from the car, the pictures are not of high quality.

This egg restaurant is so intriguing.  The sign says "‘Sunday ho ya Monday, roz khao ande". (I think it means "eat an egg every day, Sunday or Monday." I'm sure I will be corrected quickly if that is the wrong translation.

The streets were full of people. Shopping center parking lots were full of cars and talking people.

 "This is a prime time for the people here to get out and visit with friends and family", the cousin explained.  As it happens, his job (he's retired now) involved a lot of contact with people in India, and he had even visited Mumbai several times.  I told him, in turn, that my father had been stationed near Delhi for a while during World War II. He had loved it there, and had always wanted to go back.  He never made it.

It's sad to say, if my friend had not chosen her plot where she had, I may never have visited this community.  It's almost, in a way, like her last gift to me.

If I had been able to come back today, I could imagine the stores filled with Diwali sweets of every description.  The lights of that September night would burn even brighter tonight.  Perhaps we wouldn't even get any sleep from all the noise.

Perhaps, one day, I'll be able to return, and experience it for myself.

Throwback Sunday - Unsolved Mystery of the Cheesequake

Today, I repeat a blog about a bit of a mystery.  It's actually partially solved, although I still don't know how the locals pronounce it.

It's a simple question - or is it?

The Unsolved Mystery of the Cheesequake

Today's trivia question:  What is a Cheesequake?  I originally asked this question in 2010, after attending a wedding out of town.  I never found out.  So, four years later, I am hoping you, my blog readers, can help me.

Is a cheesequake
a.  What Wisconsin natives yell when the earth moves under their feet?
b.  A San Francisco boutique cheesecake (now renamed) producer?
c.  A Washington State cheeseburger? or
d.  A New Jersey toll road service area?

If you answered "c", you've taken too many "How to Ace the SAT" review courses.

The correct answer, of course, is b, c and d.  And thereby hangs a tale.

b.  San Francisco Cheesequakes ("Cheesecakes that Rock")had the most intriguing sounding cheesecakes, not that I've ever had one, so this is not a plug.  Apparently, since 2010, the company has been renamed and is now called San Francisco Cheesecake Company - ah, well. 

c.  How about a Double Cheesequake at the X Earthquakes Biggest Burgers in Pullyap, Washington?  (And, are they still in business?)

d.  The New Jersey Cheesequake.  There is my mystery.

In July of 2010, spouse and I traveled to the Jersey Shore from the Binghamton, New York area.  This involved travel on the Garden State Parkway, known as the country's busiest toll road.  We had been warned about the traffic and we already knew how aggressive and high speed the driving would be, so neither came as a shock.  We proceeded through The Oranges and The Amboys when to our wondering eyes did appear, near exit 120....

The Cheesequake Service Area.

Cheesequake? 

Spouse and I turned to each other simultaneously.  What was a Cheesequake?  We pondered various answers.  A strange New Jersey restaurant chain?  A former cheese factory that had exploded and was now a historical site?  Some kind of corrupted Native American word?

Our wonder grew as we passed by a sign for Cheesequake State Park.

Turns out spouse's guess of a corrupted Native American word was correct.  My spouse, however, speculated that "Cheesequake" came from the same word that Chesapeake (as in Chesapeake Bay) derived from.  That apparently is not the case, according to what I was able to research back then.  If my sources are correct, Chesapeake comes from a Algonquian word meaning a village "at a big river" while Cheesequake comes from a Lenape word for "upland village".

Drawing from my (too long ago) college anthropology courses, I recalled that the Lenapes (formerly known as the Delaware) are part of a much larger Native American group-age called the Algonquians.  So, there may still be some truth to this speculation.

At any rate the word has nothing to do with neither cheese nor earthquakes.

Cheesequake State Park does sound fascinating.  It may even help for me to learn how it is pronounced.

The service area, apart from the full service (mandatory in New Jersey) gas it sold for 20 cents less a gallon than Binghamton gas when we left, was not at all distinguished. 

But still, it left us with a desire to go back and visit the park.  All these years later, it is still a dream.

I have a partial answer since 2010, by the way, about how "Cheesequake" is pronounced.  Enough to know that this website, which postulates "chezquake" still may not be right.

Or, is it?

Dear reader, do you know?

Local Saturday - Finally A Happy Ending?

Years ago, I first blogged about the camp where I spent some time for several summers as a pre teen and a teen.  I've blogged about it several times since.  The below post is from 2015 and it's time to update it.

I grew up in a New York City housing project, and by the definition of a particular non profit, my family was considered poor.  So I was eligible to be sent to a sleep away camp in Sussex, New Jersey, opened in 1924, and run by a Jewish Fresh Air Camp association (yes, I was a Fresh Air child - of sorts). Its attendees were "orphans and poor children".  Mel Brooks, among a handful of famous people, went to this camp.

The camp closed in 2005, and has been extensively vandalized.

In researching this throwback, I found that the site was finally sold at auction earlier this year, and may be reopened as a nonprofit children's camp for children from Korea.

One can only hope that, by next year, this may not be a nostalgia backfire.

Don't you love a possibly happy ending?

Throwback Thursday - Nostalgia Backfire

On County Road 565 in Sussex County, New Jersey, lies an abandoned summer camp that I, and other low income children, attended back in the 20th century.  I first wrote the below post in 2010.  Sadly, this camp still lies abandoned.

No one seems to want to buy it.

Nostalgia sometimes backfires.

Do you have memories of sleepaway camp?

Another Reason Why I Can't Go Home Anymore

One more reason why trying out nostalgia can bite you in the you-know-where.

I sometimes surf around Facebook and type in stuff from my past, just to see what comes up.

Today I decided to type in the name of my sleepaway camp.  It wasn't just any sleepaway camp.  You see, as a child of public housing growing up in the Bronx in the early 60's, the fact that my parents didn't own a car, and their income made me a disadvantaged urban youth.  Luckily, I didn't know that growing up and I wouldn't have cared.

Through a elementary school friend, I found out about a camp in northern NJ called Camp Sussex.  My friend went there.  She lived in a different housing project so was disadvantaged, too. Since she was going, I wanted to also.  Three weeks away from home.  It would be my first time away from home, at this camp for poor kids.  So poor, we weren't even expected to bring our own clothes.  The camp provided them.  The camp provided everything, including transportation from Manhattan.

I went to camp and a couple of things happened that first day.

First, my friend treated me like I didn't exist.

The second was, I was massively homesick.  I ended up in the infirmary overnight, as I had somehow worked myself into a fever.  Literally.

I was shown a lot of kindness there, and reported to my bunk first thing the next morning.  I never looked back.  I survived being snubbed by my "friend" and made other friends.

This camp was located in a then-rural area of northern NJ.  It was surrounded by beautiful hills.  There was a lake.  There were hiking trails (rumored to contain quicksand pits and lethal snakes).  There was the opportunity to put on a camp musical.  Every dinner, before the prayer (yes, there was a religious element to this camp) we sang "Be Kind to Your Web Footed Friends".  I still remember the words.  We woke up to "Reville", made our bunks, had an inspection, watched the American flag raise, and listened to "taps" at Lights Out.

Many of the camp counselors were college students.  I became friends with one in particular, who went to Bryn Mawr.  We wrote to each other for months after that session but lost touch.

I had my first crush at Camp Sussex, and my first "boyfriend".

Years later, my cousin married someone who had gone to Camp Sussex.  And at work, for several years, I sat feet from a former Camp Sussex counselor.  Problem was, she was born the last year I went.  So we didn't speak about it much.  I wish we had.

Anyway, I had known that the camp had never quite changed its mission, but had closed around 2005.  There were hopes to turn it into a sports camp, an "education through sports" camp.  Derek Jeter's father was somehow supposed to be involved.

Well, on Facebook, I found out, as Paul Harvey used to say, "The rest of the story".

The closed camp has been severely vandalized.  It was alleged that the local police had never been too happy about the camp being there (I guess we disadvantaged kids polluted the place?).   Over the years, the rural area had become urbanized and the local youth had their way with my beloved camp.  The camp hadn't been secured, anyone could just walk in, and the police didn't seem to care too much. (in all fairness, I only know one side of the story.)  Bottom line, it would take over a million dollars just to get the camp fixed up enough to even begin about reopening.

There were pictures on Facebook showing the damage. (there's even a 3 minute short on You Tube documenting some of the damage.)  My heart broke, seeing those beautiful hills for the first time in over 40 years. And, on two Facebook sites, I saw discussions among some of over 400 people who belonged to a fraternity of former campers, counselors and even administrators.  They loved Camp Sussex.  I loved it in some ways, too, because it showed me there was a lot more to life than the streets of the Bronx.

Know what?  I wish I could find out how all of us "disadvantaged youth"of Camp Sussex turned out.  How many of us are professionals?   People who have made life better for others? (The talented Mel Brooks was one.)  And, for how many of us, did Camp Sussex make a difference?

I wish I didn't know about the vandalism, though.

Like my neighborhood, now a slum, now my beloved sleepaway camp.  Sometimes you just can't go back home.  How I sometimes envy people who can!

Throwback Thursday - Nostalgia Backfire

On County Road 565 in Sussex County, New Jersey, lies an abandoned summer camp that I, and other low income children, attended back in the 20th century.  I first wrote the below post in 2010.  Sadly, this camp still lies abandoned.

No one seems to want to buy it.

Nostalgia sometimes backfires.

Do you have memories of sleepaway camp?

Another Reason Why I Can't Go Home Anymore

One more reason why trying out nostalgia can bite you in the you-know-where.

I sometimes surf around Facebook and type in stuff from my past, just to see what comes up.

Today I decided to type in the name of my sleepaway camp.  It wasn't just any sleepaway camp.  You see, as a child of public housing growing up in the Bronx in the early 60's, the fact that my parents didn't own a car, and their income made me a disadvantaged urban youth.  Luckily, I didn't know that growing up and I wouldn't have cared.

Through a elementary school friend, I found out about a camp in northern NJ called Camp Sussex.  My friend went there.  She lived in a different housing project so was disadvantaged, too. Since she was going, I wanted to also.  Three weeks away from home.  It would be my first time away from home, at this camp for poor kids.  So poor, we weren't even expected to bring our own clothes.  The camp provided them.  The camp provided everything, including transportation from Manhattan.

I went to camp and a couple of things happened that first day.

First, my friend treated me like I didn't exist.
The second was, I was massively homesick.  I ended up in the infirmery overnight, as I had somehow worked myself into a fever.  Literally.

I was shown a lot of kindness there, and reported to my bunk first thing the next morning.  I never looked back.  I survived being snubbed by my "friend" and made other friends.

This camp was located in a then-rural area of northern NJ.  It was surrounded by beautiful hills.  There was a lake.  There were hiking trails (rumored to contain quicksand pits and lethal snakes).  There was the opportunity to put on a camp musical.  Every dinner, before the prayer (yes, there was a religious element to this camp) we sang "Be Kind to Your Web Footed Friends".  I still remember the words.  We woke up to "Reville", made our bunks, had an inspection, watched the American flag raise, and listened to "taps" at Lights Out.

Many of the camp counselors were college students.  I became friends with one in particular, who went to Bryn Mawr.  We wrote to each other for months after that session but lost touch.

I had my first crush at Camp Sussex, and my first "boyfriend".

Years later, my cousin married someone who had gone to Camp Sussex.  And at work, for several years, I sat feet from a former Camp Sussex counselor.  Problem was, she was born the last year I went.  So we didn't speak about it much.  I wish we had.

Anyway, I had known that the camp had never quite changed its mission, but had closed around 2005.  There were hopes to turn it into a sports camp, an "education through sports" camp.  Derek Jeter's father was somehow supposed to be involved.

Well, on Facebook, I found out, as Paul Harvey used to say, "The rest of the story".

The closed camp has been severely vandalized.  It was alleged that the local police had never been too happy about the camp being there (I guess we disadvantaged kids polluted the place?).   Over the years, the rural area had become urbanized and the local youth had their way with my beloved camp.  The camp hadn't been secured, anyone could just walk in, and the police didn't seem to care too much. (in all fairness, I only know one side of the story.)  Bottom line, it would take over a million dollars just to get the camp fixed up enough to even begin about reopening.

There were pictures on Facebook showing the damage. (there's even a 3 minute short on You Tube documenting some of the damage.)  My heart broke, seeing those beautiful hills for the first time in over 40 years. And, on two Facebook sites, discussions among some of over 400 people who belonged to a fraternity of former campers, counselors and even administrators, have taken place.  They loved Camp Sussex.  I loved it in some ways, too, because it showed me there was a lot more to life than the streets of the Bronx.

Know what?  I wish I could find out how all of us "disadvantaged youth"of Camp Sussex turned out.  How many of us are professionals?   People who have made life better for others? (The talented Mel Brooks was one.)  And, for how many of us, did Camp Sussex make a difference?

I wish I didn't know about the vandalism, though.

Like my neighborhood, now a slum, now my beloved sleepaway camp.  Sometimes you just can't go back home.  How I sometimes envy people who can!

The Unsolved Mystery of the Cheesequake

Today's trivia question:  What is a Cheesequake?  I originally asked this question in 2010, after attending a wedding out of town.  I never found out.  So, four years later, I am hoping you, my blog readers, can help me.


Is a cheesequake
a.  What Wisconsin natives yell when the earth moves under their feet?
b.  A San Francisco boutique cheesecake (possibly now out of business) producer?
c.  A Washington State cheeseburger? or
d.  A New Jersey toll road service area?

If you answered "c", you've taken too many "How to Ace the SAT" review courses.

The correct answer, of course, is b, c and d.  And thereby hangs a tale.

b.  San Francisco Cheesequakes ("Cheesecakes that Rock") may have gone out of business since 2010.  But back then, their web site  had the most intriguing sounding cheesecakes.  (not that I've ever had one, so this is not a plug.)  Candycap Mushroom Cheesecake, anyone?

c.  How about a Double Cheesequake at the X Earthquakes Biggest Burgers in Pullyap, Washington?  (And, are they still in business?)

d.  The New Jersey Cheesequake.  There is my mystery.

In July of 2010, spouse and I traveled to the Jersey Shore from the Binghamton, NY area.  This involved travel on the Garden State Parkway, known as the country's busiest toll road.  We had been warned about the traffic and we already knew how aggressive and high speed the driving would be, so neither came as a shock.  We proceeded through The Oranges and The Amboys when to our wondering eyes did appear, near exit 120....

The Cheesequake Service Area.

Cheesequake? 

Spouse and I turned to each other simultaneously.  What was a Cheesequake?  We pondered various answers.  A strange New Jersey restaurant chain?  A former cheese factory that had exploded and was now a historical site?  Some kind of corrupted Native American word?

Our wonder grew as we passed by a sign for Cheesequake State Park.

Turns out spouse's guess of a corrupted Native American word was correct.  My spouse, however, speculated that "Cheesequake" came from the same word that Chesapeake (as in Chesapeake Bay) derived from.  That apparently is not the case, according to what I was able to research back then.  If my sources are correct, Chesapeake comes from a Algonquian word meaning a village "at a big river" while Cheesequake comes from a Lenape word for "upland village".

Drawing from my (too long ago) college anthropology courses, I recalled that the Lenapes (formerly known as the Delaware) are part of a much larger Native American groupage called the Algonquians.  So, there may still be some truth to this speculation.

At any rate the word has nothing to do with neither cheese nor earthquakes.

Cheesequake State Park does sound fascinating.  It may even help for me to learn how it is pronounced.

The service area, apart from the full service (mandatory in NJ) gas it sold for 20 cents less a gallon than Binghamton gas when we left, was not at all distinguished. 

But still, it left us with a desire to go back and visit the park.  Four years later, it is still a dream, but we do want to vacation locally later this summer.  So...

For now - can anyone tell me how Cheesequake is pronounced?  And what the word means?

I know you, my valued readers, won't let me down.

Cheesequake!

Today's trivia question:  What is a Cheesequake?

a.  What Wisconsin natives yell when the earth moves under their feet.
b.  A San Francisco boutique cheesecake producer
c.  A Washington State cheeseburger
d.  A New Jersey toll road service area.

If you answered "c", you've taken too many "How to Ace the SAT" review courses.

The correct answer, of course, is b, c and d.  And thereby hangs a tale.

b.  San Francisco Cheesequakes ("Cheesecakes that Rock") has the most intriguing sounding cheesecakes.  (not that I've ever had one, so this is not a plug.)  Candycap Mushroom Cheesecake, anyone?

They also have all kind of chocolate cheesecakes.

Birthday present, anyone?

c.  How about a Double Cheesequake at the X Earthquakes Biggest Burgers in Pullyap, Washington?

d.  The New Jersey Cheesequake.

Last Friday, spouse and I traveled to the Jersey Shore from the Binghamton, NY area.  This involved travel on the Garden State Parkway, known as the country's busiest toll road.  We had been warned about the traffic and we already knew how aggressive and high speed the driving would be, so neither came as a shock.  We proceeded through The Oranges and The Amboys when to our wondering eyes did appear, near exit 120....

The Cheesequake Service Area.

Huh?

Spouse and I turned to each other simultaneously.  What was a Cheesequake?  We pondered various answers.  A strange New Jersey restaurant chain?  A former cheese factory that had exploded and was now a historical site?  Some kind of corrupted Native American word?

Our wonder grew as we passed by a sign for Cheesequake State Park.

Turns out spouse's guess of a corrupted Native American word was correct.  My spouse, however, speculated that "Cheesequake" came from the same word that Chesapeake (as in Chesapeake Bay) derived from.  That apparently is not the case, according to what I was able to research.  If my sources are correct, Chesapeake comes from a Algonquian word meaning a village "at a big river" while Cheesequake comes from a Lenape word for "upland village".

Drawing from my years back anthropology courses, I am aware that the Lenapes (formerly known as the Delaware) are part of a much larger Native American groupage called the Algonquians.  So, there may still be some truth to this speculation.

At any rate the word has nothing to do with either cheese nor earthquakes.

The State Park does sound fascinating.

The service area, apart from the full service (mandatory in NJ) gas it sold for 20 cents less a gallon than Binghamton gas when we left, was not at all distinguished. 

But still, it left us with a desire to go back and visit the park. Cheesequake!