Jersey Shore Magazine

Fall / Holiday 2021

Jersey Shore Magazine

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J e r s e y s h o r e • F A L L / H O L I D A Y 2 0 2 1 82 HOME PORT A fter another long, hot summer of living through the pandemic, we are looking forward to the magnificent colors of autumn leaves and cooler weather. Also, we are anticipating that first snowfall blanketing the earth, providing a stunning change of landscapes and new activities. School kids always look forward to a snow day, where they can sleep a little longer, get outside to play with their friends, have snowball fights, build snowmen and snow forts, or make snow angels. They ride down hills on their sleds and snowboards and answer to the call of their mom's hot chocolate when numb and done. As a child, I see myself gazing out from the low parlor window onto the front yard. I watch the formerly purple snowball bush of summer and green grass and hedges slow- ly plump with white snow. Switching my gaze to single flakes, I grow a little cross- eyed trying to follow their swirly white motions. Soon silhou- ettes of maple trees, just beyond the hedges, turn white, their branches laden with snow. As the light in the window slowly fades into dusk, the sill I rested my elbow on grows colder. I retreat into the warmth of the parlor where I left a small army of soldiers on the rug waiting for the general's orders. Sometimes when one of my best soldiers died, I'd hum a version of "Taps" bringing tears to my eyes. The thought of my mother (Mary) in the hospital evoked my emotions. A heavy knock at the front door brings the living room war to a halt. My Aunt Kitty goes to the door to see who it is. She opens the door, letting in (the man I called and would become) my Uncle Tom as well as a blast of wind and swirl of snowflakes. "Uncle Tom," I shout rising up from my war on the rug and giving his knees a big hug. He stomps snow from his boots, tousles my curly hair, pats my head, and says, "I'm in on Port o' Call; here to see Dolores." My Aunt Dolores is a beautiful woman, dark eyes and hair. She is the youngest of the sisters, single, and a little wild compared to her other siblings who were all married with young children. "A free spirit" my Aunt Kitty would whisper to me if I heard the dinner conversation I wasn't supposed to hear. Snow Wonder by Frank Finale My aunt knew her younger sister was falling in love with the tall sailor with a southern drawl, handsome and polite too. She'd mumble to herself, "He doesn't know what he's in for." "Dolores will be down in a few minutes," Aunt Kitty says rushing to take his Navy pea coat. "O.K. I'll just wait here with the kid," he says as he plac- es his overly large sailor hat on my head, adjusting it so it didn't cover my eyes. He asks what I'm doing as he settles his six-foot-plus body down on the rug beside me, trying to tuck one of his long legs under himself. "Playin' army. Wanna few soldiers?" "Sure." "Here's a good one." "Oh, a man with a bazooka!" When my aunt came downstairs, he rose up out of the war zone and into her arms and the scent of her intoxicat- ing perfume. "Mind if I borrow him for a while honey?" she says bend- ing down to me leaving a warm red smudge on my forehead. As much as I liked playing soldiers on the rug with my soon to be uncle, there were no objections from me. He takes his hat off my head and tousles my hair again. Then off into the snowy night they went arm in arm. Many years later on another snowy night near the holi- days in 1974, I went to hear my cousin Jim Faulkner, their son, sing. He had a gig at A's Inn, a popular night spot on the corner of Norwood and Brighton Avenues in Deal (now Primavera Restaurant & Bar). The place allowed up to seventy people and always had a burly guy or two at the door to check the IDs of the people being admitted. Jim sang a variety of well-known songs, accompanying himself with an acoustic guitar. It took about an hour for him to bring in all his equipment and place it the way he wanted. He also had a surprisingly falsetto voice that contrasted with the voice he used in more mellow pieces. A couple of my favorites were Chapin's "Taxi" and Bowie's "Space Oddity." "Stairway to Heaven" was one where he always got the crowd to sing along. This night was special, though. My Uncle Tom, who I hadn't seen in decades, was going to stop in before going back home to Maryland. He entered the front door wear- ing a large overcoat and fedora. His round face was red continued on page 79 David Turton Photography

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