My Hometown – Caldwell, New Jersey

Located fifteen miles west of New York City, Caldwell was a town of tree lined streets, old homes, and a main street with not a chain store to be found. The street had two bakeries, two libraries, a hardware store, a five-and-dime store, a diner, and a movie theatre. Caldwell is the birthplace of Grover Cleveland who was the 22nd and 24th president of the United States, serving from 1885 to 1889 and from 1893 to 1897. Traversing the town is the former president’s namesake, Grover Cleveland Park which has a brook that meanders its length, a pond that in winter is used as an ice-skating rink replete with a warming house. The park is a beehive of activity year-round and is a town treasure.

My hometown was more than just a geographical location; it was a tapestry of childhood memories, the backdrop of where lessons were taught and learned. The familiar streets lined with old oak trees whisper stories of countless summers of a bygone era. From elementary school through high school, I never took the school bus. My neighborhood classmates and I walked regardless of rain or snow. We were never chaperoned around town. We biked or walked everywhere. Our neighborhood was teeming with kids all around the same age. Caldwell in those days was a mixture of blue collar workers living side-by-side with  white collar executives, yet there was an egalitarian structure to daily life, The vast majority of moms did not work outside of the home, the idea of brand name clothes was foreign and most homes had one car and one television. 

 As children we lived in a protected bubble from the outside world but few of us were coddled. We fought battles without mediation from our elders. You got into a fight, well you had to figure it out. We knew our place and when we forgot, there was no shortage of adults to remind us. In summer, we were outside from after breakfast till the streetlights came on at night. When we got thirsty, we drank from a garden hose and when hungry ate an apple from one of the apple trees that dotted the landscape. All around was life and activity. We would catch butterflies during the day and lightening bugs after it got dark. That same brook that ran through Grover Cleveland Park flowed under an old white wooden bridge, the next street over. We swam in that brook along with the box and snapping turtles sunning themselves on the rocks. We would entertain ourselves as we built a treehouse in the woods and played soap box derby and touch football on Lee Drive.

At the age of sixteen, my friends and I took the bus to Port Authority and then walked the eight blocks to Madison Square Garden to watch the Knicks and Rangers. Our parents thought nothing of it. We rode our bikes or walked to the Park Theatre where for fifty-five cents you gained admission and bought five candy bars for a nickel apiece. A sense of community was nurtured through community pools, sports and the annual events of the Memorial Day parade and the July 4^th fireworks set off at the high school. I lived down the hill from the high school and every year my parents had a barbeque for family and friends. At dusk we all sat on lawn chairs and had a bird’s-eye view of the fireworks from our backyard.

Caldwell will always hold a special place in my heart because it represents a sense of belonging and identity. My hometown harkens back to a simpler time. For a kid, Caldwell had everything that you could want. Before the days of strip shopping malls and cineplexes, we lived in a contained ecosystem. Caldwell helped shape me into the person I am today and holds cherished memories that are deeply ingrained in my psyche.

Caldwell is a different place today. Gone are Cohens Stationary, Schanz Hardware, Gruning’s, Fisher’s Bakery and Caldwell Cake Cottage as well as the beloved Park Theatre which burned down in 1974. These stores have been replaced by restaurants and small niche stores. The house my folks bought for $19,000 now sells for over $600,000 and it is common for current residents to pay $20,000 a year in real estate taxes. I still get a kick out of Tony Soprano’s fictional house filmed at a real house in North Caldwell and watching scenes from the iconic series filmed on the same main street that I spent so much of my youth on. They say you cannot go home again and there is some truth to that adage, but I occasionally return to walk in the park, visit the supermarket I worked in for so many years and have a burger and a beer at the Cloverleaf Tavern. Yes, Caldwell is different today, but the memories and experiences will live on in my heart forever.