Hands Across New Jersey

Last month I learned about a protest that brought me back to my youth. The event was called: Hands Across New Jersey. The path was to follow the route General George Washington took from Fort Lee to Washington Crossing as he retreated his troops.

Hearing the name brought me back to Hands Across America, an event that took place over Memorial Day weekend in 1986. I was a high school junior. My mom heard about it and drove us to a spot in Hackensack where we linked hands with 5.4 million people from Battery Park in New York as onlookers could see the Statue of Liberty through 16 states and Washington, DC to Long Beach, CA overlooking the Queen Mary. Participants were encouraged to donate $10 each (about $29.48 in today's dollars). Organizers were building on the 1985 hit "We are the World" to raise awareness for hunger. Money raised went to fight hunger and homelessness. After expenses, about $15 million were raised.

This was not that. 

Held on Wednesday, September 17 in honor of the day the Constitution was ratified it did not seem to gain traction. Still, in anticipation of crowds, I parked a half a mile away and walked to the site. It had rained about an hour earlier, and was forecast to rain again, but at the moment it was dry. I crossed I-95 using the median, the same as I do when heading to Rider University for the fireworks each July. I passed the police station on my way to my stop: 2116 Lawrence Road -- in front of the university. I saw a woman wearing a hoodie under an ASAH umbrella and a couple across the street. 

That was it!

By this point it was after 4:30. It started raining again. The solo woman left to go to a staff meeting she had skipped in favor of this protest. The couple crossed the street and went home. Feeling foolish standing alone with only my hands to hold, I retreated to my car. By this point the rain was coming down in buckets.

What went wrong? Was it the weather? Was it the day of the week? Was it lack of getting the word out?

The next mass protest is scheduled for October 18.

I just want to be done with all of this!

Unfriending over Politics vs. Values

Back in November I made a heated Facebook post where I asked everyone who voted for T to unfriend me now before I unfriended them. I'm willing to discuss the validity of favorite ice cream flavors and pizza toppings, but not whether or not T is the right choice for POTUS. 

At least one FB friend took it to heart and not only unfriended me, but shared my post with another friend. If the friend reads this (which I doubt), she'll recognize herself in this post, but I'm still not naming any names. 

I reached out to her a few times over the past ten months and heard crickets. It was at the point I thought she was casting judgment on Ashley and Anna's relationship.

I'm grateful she finally had the courage to reach out to me. She shared a screenshot of the post I made (she saved the post?) and said she voted for Trump. (Paraphrasing here) she remembers our friendship fondly, but recognizes I don't want to be friends with her over her political views.

I'll admit, that hit hard. It was like a knife in my gut. I realized she has been in pain over my FB post (I often say words matter). I can't take away that pain. I tried to explain I value her friendship, but not on FB. 

Coincidently, last night was the sixth anniversary of political historian Heather Cox Richardson's Letters from an American. She wrote (emphasis mine):

I write these letters because I love America. I am staunchly committed to the principle of human self-determination for people of all races, genders, abilities, and ethnicities: the idea that we all have the right to work to become whatever we wish. I believe that American democracy has the potential to be the form of government that comes closest to bringing that principle to reality. And I know that achieving that equality depends on a government shaped by fact-based debate rather than by extremist ideology and false narratives.

As I read her essay this morning, I wondered Why are these values even up for debate? My asking his supporters to unfriend it was because I knew I needed a safe place express my feelings and to lean on others. I applaud people who can have open debate with his supporters, but after a decade of his nonsense, I don’t have it in me.

I know now this post cost me at least one longtime friendship. I'd like to say, I'm sorry, but (you knew there would be a but) as I reflect on that friendship (and others like it), I wonder how true they were. I remember times I disagreed with their stances, their views on issues such as abortion, but kept quiet for the sake of friendship. I didn’t tell them about how I found their views against my beliefs to keep the peace. I told myself they were coming from a place of love and I should respect that. I nodded or made a grunt that could be taken as assent and walked away.

Part of me wants to ask why they support him. But (there is that word again), I don't have it in me to start a conversation and defend my stance that all people are created equal.

Look at where we are now as a nation.

We've slowly been put into two camps: us vs. them. The rich vs. poor. Blacks vs. whites. Blacks vs. police. Immigrants vs. people who have lived here for generations. Trans people vs. men/women. Gun owners vs. non-gun owners.

The list goes on. It is exhausting.

Now we are at the point where if you do not agree 100% with someone, you are labeled as other. As someone not worthy of spending time with. As stupid, or an idiot. Or not as good as yourself. And that is with people you agree with the vast majority of the time. For those who are so far on the opposite side it feels impossible to find even 5% to agree on it is impossible to even start the debate.

I am open for true debate as long as we start from the point that ALL people are created equal. Without that I’m not going to debate why some people are more valuable than others because that is a slippery slope to why you and I are not valuable.

I am not unfriending people or staying away from people over politics, but I am over values. If you do not value all people and feel some deserve to be rounded up in ICE raids or killed because they are homeless or because they belong to the other party or kicked out of sports because they are trans or valued less because they came here from another country (legally or illegally) then there is no room for a debate.

If you want to debate how we can create a path to citizenship, or how to provide free lunches to all students, or how to help the homeless, or support the LGBT community, or universal healthcare, or the pros and cons of a national service requirement, or other ways to make life better for all, let's go.

If you want to tell me that some group is less worthy than you are, the discussion is closed.

I don't care about your background, your socio economic statues, religion, color, national identity, but if you don't agree all people are created equal I don't respect you. If I can't respect you, it makes it harder to be friends.

I'm sad to lose this friend. I'm mourn all friendships lost due to differences in values, as well as death. But I'm not going to quietly agree with things that go against my values just to keep peace between us. That's not true friendship.

Alumni Event at Bucks County Playhouse

Saturday night I left my comfort zone to attend an alumni event. My relationship with my alma mater is complicated. 

Our connection started strong.

As a student I worked in the alumni office. While working my first reunion, I met Don --  recent graduate and member of the alumni board. I worked in this office for most of my college years, only leaving to work at an internship my senior year.

Upon gradation, I became a board member.

So far so good.

Then the president of my alma mater held a secret meeting in my office's board room. See, the president of the company where I worked right out of college was on the Board of Trustees. In the meeting, held a couple of doors away from my desk, the board decided to change the name of my school from Trenton State College to The College of New Jersey.

As far as decisions go, it was not the worst decision. Thirty years later, it is still the name of the school. It was the secrecy behind it that irritated me. As I type this, I realize it still irritates me. Another board member, a friend of mine, learned about the decision when he opened his newspaper. My hearing about it was not much better -- my sister, a student there at the time, sent me an email the students all received.

The Board of Trustees did not tell the Alumni Board about the decision in advance.

Had I simply been a new alumna it would not have bothered me, but since I was on the Alumni Board I though we merited advance notice.

We live only a few miles from TSC/TCNJ. I have visited the campus. I even went on a new student tour with Ashley, and a partial tour when Yoran lived with us. In 2022, I attended the reunion with my college fraternity members. We've been back for smaller reasons, including recreating our wedding anniversary pictures. This weekend was my first off-campus event.

The alumni office sponsored a Stage and Spirits event to see "She Loves Me" at Bucks County Playhouse. As luck would have it, Ashley was in the deck crew for the show. I had dinner with Ashley at an Indian restaurant between the matinee and evening performances, then walked over the Nektar to enjoy a glass of wine with the others.

TSC alumna is not a hat I wear very often. It was a little uncomfortable. I did not know any of the other 26 attendees huddled around the bar, most everyone seemed to be with a spouse or friend. One woman said the timing was great because she was cast to be in a production in Burlington this November. A couple from my class said they were excited for a night out -- they have two in college and one in high school, this was a rare treat for them. 

Things like remembering the dorms I lived in, the professors I had, the activities I did, and the inevitable do you remember.... All asked as we crowded around a bar. Everyone was friendly. Conversations were mostly light. Most people are happy to talk about themselves with very little prompting. The reporter in me finds ways to shift the conversation in that direction.

We took a group photo in front of the theater and enjoyed the show.

For me, the biggest treat was spending time with Ashley.

Amazon -- EWR4

About a decade after moving to Central Jersey my dad's hobby of chasing trains morphed into watching Amazon build a big warehouse in his new hometown. It was a cheap hobby, and kept him out of the house for a while, which likely made my mom happy.

After learning it was possible to take a tour, I knew I wanted to go on one. I asked Don and my dad if they wanted to join me. They both enthusiastically said yes. Mom was also invited, but at the last minute she couldn't make it.

Dad's legs have been wearing out. What started as trying out a cane a few years ago has moved to using a "rolator" (walker with a seat) both in the house and (especially) everywhere else. On a recent trip to Williamsburg, VA they rented an electric scooter. He loved it! I was concerned about him being able to walk the mile and navigate the one flight of stairs. I emailed to ask about accessibility. Ironically, due to needing the elevator, we had to walk extra far. Once there, though, more people joined dad in the elevator. Dad did great for the first half of the tour. On a particularly long walk to the elevator I offered to push him and he gratefully accepted. Don offered to take over for me, and I gratefully accepted.

Including the three of us, there were 18 people on our tour. The elevator buddies included an Indian family, with the matriarch wearing a sari that would fit in more at Robbinsville's other main tourist destination, BAPS than in a warehouse. We had to wear our hair up, and have close-toed shoes on our feet.

Full disclosure, I went on the tour being anti-Amazon due to how they have forced small businesses to close. I was reminded that their original business model was as the place to buy books, putting independent bookstores into bankruptcy. This facility only handles small items -- ones that weigh under 50 pounds. Bigger items (flat screen TVs, mattresses, furniture, etc.) are processed in a different place.

EWR-4 opened in Robbinsville, NJ in 2014. It's nickname is "The Beast of the East," our guide shared the story but it came out more as an inside joke than something I understood. Overall the location is 1.2 million square feet, making it the current fourth largest Amazon warehouse. The largest (4.5 million square feet) in in Ontario, Canada. There are 29 miles of conveyor belts. Parts of the building are two very tall stories, and parts are four stories high. Unfortunately for the sake of this post, cameras (including cell phones) are not allowed on the tour.

The tour lasts between 60 and 90 minutes. Ours was a few minutes longer thanks to people asking lots of questions. For once, I was not one of the question askers. I did not want to make Amazon nervous, so I did not bring my notebook. The thoughts are jumbled in my head as I write this the next day.

My primary question was about its name: EWR-4. It was confirmed it does refer to the closest international airport. In our case, Newark Airport (EWR). While there is not an EWR-1, 2, or 3, there is a 5 and a 6 with others in the plans. 

Jennifer introduced us to Steve, a picker. He grabs items from bins to put into cubbyholes. There is a little more to it. He has to scan each item. He has an average of 15 seconds to sort each item. Steve is tall. He can reach the top cubbies. The woman next to him has to use a ladder. Jennifer assures us this is an easy pace to maintain.

We moved to the robots. The robots keep going unless you are wearing a special vest. If something is dropped on the floor (which seems to happen with some regularity) only specially trained people can pick them up. There is another man. The packer. I'll call him Jim since I didn't get his real name. He picks the items that Steve put in the bins and sorts them by where they are going. Jim has an average of seven seconds to move them. 

The drivers, some using their own cars, have to deliver everything within a set amount of time or their pay is decreased. 

A long walk to the elevator and giant staircase. Jennifer filled the void with what a great company Amazon is to work for. I was busy keeping an eye on dad and missed much of what she said. Some points I remember, they rotate people to minimize injuries from repetitive motions. People are trained in different skills so they can rotate. They work forty hours a week in four days -- yup, ten hour days. The place is open 24-hours a day. They only close for Christmas.

Upstairs we watched another man put the items in boxes. I'll call him Mike. We only saw the single item boxing area. The multiple box area is too crowded for visitors. Mike is told what size box to use. A piece of brown tape is spit out. He puts it in the box with extra brown paper. Adds the QR code (there are over a million in the building) and sends it on a belt. I noticed a woman behind me (we were not introduced) makes sure they are facing in the right direction so when they get to the address maker the machine can do its job.

We did learn as of last week the plastic envelopes are a thing of the past. Books will come in brown paper envelopes. You heard it hear first.

I'd love to say by the end of the tour I thought: I love Amazon! These people have the best jobs. 

But, no. 

I left digging my heels in with a new reason to not shop Amazon: they treat their employees like robots. When they can figure out a way to have robots do the jobs, these people will be let go. 

Dad and Don also left grateful to not work there. Yes, the pay rate is above minimum wage. With the exception of our tour guide (who was taking a break from picking and packing merchandise) smiled. No one was listening to music, or whistling, or talking to each other. It is just a modern version of the factories people like Don's dad worked in hoping he would be the last member of the family to do so. Perhaps that's a bit unfair, I never heard him complain about working for GM. I also never heard him encourage his children to follow in his footsteps.

As we stepped outside breathing in the fresh air we realized inside the warehouse there are no indications of the weather. I did see a spot to gather if there is a tornado (a fairly rare occurrence in New Jersey). It is so noisy inside I don't think they would notice a thunderstorm. 

The tour is free. They offer two a day, four days a week. Sign up HERE for a tour near you.

24th Anniversary of 9/11

I don't know why the 24th anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks are hitting me a little harder this year, but they are. Today's crisp blue sky and low humidity take me back to that Tuesday in 2001. 

My birthday had just passed. 

I was working at Princeton Day School (PDS) in their Development Office. 

A year earlier we moved to our home in Lawrenceville. The house we knew was the start of the next stage of turning the house into a home. Transforming us from being a couple to becoming a family.

I was late. I planned to pop into CVS on the way home to pick up a pregnancy test I hoped, expected, would show we were indeed expecting.

The news came in about a plane hitting the World Trade Center. Surely it must be a small plane. Then the news that a plane hit the second tower.

My role at PDS was to maintain the database of everyone involved with the school: staff past and present, students, alumni, and parents. The call came from the Head of School to identify which parents worked in the WTC. Subtext: which parents might not come home that night. Who needs to be pulled out of class to be talked to separately.

About ten days earlier I had put together a book listing every student and every parent, their home and office phone numbers (few had cell phones in those days), their addresses, students birthdays, organized by last name and by class. It was always a huge undertaking. When people were taking time off to enjoy the last bit of freedom before another school year, I was sifting through data with a fine toothed comb. Eagle-eyed co-workers scoured the book for mistakes. The Friday before school started the book was delivered to the printer in Langhorne, PA (once by me to ensure it arrived on time). It was probably my most stressful annual assignment and the most rewarding.

I knew my data. I knew I could find the answer if the parents gave us the information.

I found ZERO parents who worked in the World Trade Center, but gave them the names of parents who identified their offices as being located across the street in the World Financial Center.

Sadly, we did have a parent perish that day. It was the parents of a new student. One who filled in the space asking for their work information simply as NYC. One parent who did not return home that night. One family that moved shortly after the towers fell. One family too many.

I have a couple of stronger memories. I remember calling my dad at work. Something I hadn't done since moving away from home. At the time he worked at Teterboro Airport with a view of NYC skyline (his office did not have a window, but the airport could see the sky). I asked him how he was doing and he said "it is so sad."

The next memory is from a couple of days later when I could smell the smoke. It traveled over fifty miles from NYC to Princeton. I thought if that's how bad it smells here, it must be intolerable in NYC.

It was years before I saw the news footage. I was standing in the Newseum, the museum of news in Washington, DC with Don and our daughter. It was even more horrific than I imagined at the time. In 2001 we didn't have a working television set. The internet was still new. Social media did not exist. I did not seek out images.

On September 12th I took that pregnancy test. It was positive. It was hard to celebrate knowing we were about to send a child into a world completely different from the one I had always known.

Pictures of a couple of pieces of WTC steel from our international travels:

Outside Gander, NL, Canada

Christ Church, NZ

Another reason it is hitting hard is because this summer we saw COME FROM AWAY in Gander, NL. The stories of people being stranded were brought back up to the surface.

Yet another reason is the resurgence of gun violence this week with the murder of a right wing 31-year old who once said a few deaths is the accepted price we pay to keep our "God given" right to the Second Amendment. The unity our nation felt on September 12, 2001 has been torn in half.

The calmest week we have felt since January 20, 2025 happened when the current President stayed out of the news for six days. It was just long enough for me to realize there is a chance we'll go back to being able to fully breathe again without worrying about what laws are being broken by the Commander in Chief. If not laws, societal standards. He thrives on chaos. I thrive on calm.

Trenton Fit

A few weeks ago Don and I went on a Trenton Walks tour. A week later we went on another one. A week after that we went on a third one. Upon retirement, Becky Taylor (locally famous for co-founding the Lawrence-Hopewell Trail over 20 years ago) moved to Trenton and wanted to learn more about her new home. The more she learned, the more she wanted to share this knowledge with others. Hence Trenton Walks was born. 

Tom, a frequent participant on the Trenton Walks meetups, saw a need for people to gather and run together. He calls his group Downtown Fit. They meet on Tuesday and Thursday nights at 5:30 and on Saturday mornings at 8 am. I've been to two of the "Bridge to Bridge" runs. They also have a four-mile Stacy Park loop. 

The Bridge to Bridge runs starts on the corner of Lafayette and Warren Streets and, after taking a group photo in the same spot each time, they have a warm up walk to the New Jersey State Library to the Calhoun Street Bridge, runs along the Delaware River on a path in Levittown, then crosses at the Trenton Makes Bridge, before heading up to the start on Warren. This is about 2.4 miles. You can add a loop through Mill Hill to bring it up to three miles. The two times I have done it, the shorter amount was fine. 

It is a small yet diverse group of super supportive and encouraging people. The two times I have gone (once with Don, once without), our group of about ten people broke into eight minute mile runners, 12 minute milers, and walkers. Roland and Tom, the de facto leaders, says they are slow, but later amends that to say slow for the fast runners, waits until the end to make sure everyone is greeted with a high five and a smile.

We are continuing through the fall, but there is concern about what to do once it gets darker earlier, and when the icy weather starts. The group only started connected this past Spring. They want to keep going.

It helps dispel the theory that Trenton is a scary place. The scariest parts are when we are crossing traffic and cars do not notice us, but that's everywhere.

Field of Corn, Dublin, OH

Don and I annually try to travel to Ohio to see family and friends. This year, we added Betsey and John to the list. I was hoping they had time to meet up with us for lunch while my cousins and aunt were teaching, instead they cleared their entire afternoon for us.

Betsey, John, Don, and I met in Uluru, Australia. Betsey was sporting a cane and Don was on crutches following bursting blood vessels in his leg when he ran in to a bench the night before. Don and Betsey bonded over walking slowly and not being able to do as much as they had hoped. Over the rest of that leg we kept bumping into each other. We found the conversations lively. Betsey and I bonded over the dismal election results and our fears for our nation.

We found kindred spirits on the other side of the globe.

When we learned they live in Columbus, OH we promised to connect the next time we were in town. I suspect they thought that was a hollow "we'll get together," the kind I've learned over five decades rarely happens.

Our friendship grew online. When we realized Don had a rare four days off in a row, we rented a car and drove out to Ohio. The plan was to see as many friends and family as possible in 56 hours before driving home again.

We were successful. We stayed with Debra and Tom, had pizza night with Laura, Matt, Allie, Doug, their children, and David. Met up with Heidi for dinner and ice cream in German Village. I was impressed we could fit into really busy schedules with minimal notice. Thank you, all!

Betsey had lots of good suggestions for us, ways to show off her city. Ones we assured her were good, but we had already done over the years. Then I mentioned the giant ears of corn in Dublin. I could see her smiling as she typed back we could do that.

The statues are called Field of Corn. The 109 statues of ears of corn are each 6'3"
tall. They are literally located in an office complex on a busy intersection. In a slightly quieter place, I could picture preschoolers having a giant game of hide and seek with them. Watching traffic, as a teacher I'd be terrified one would wander out of the area and get hit by a car.

According to the website cited above, there are three different molds, but they are rotated in order to make it harder to find the matches. Each one weighs 1500 pounds and are made out of "white architectural precast concrete." Columbus artist Malcolm Cochran designed them as an homage to the "history of the farming legacy and memorial to the farming landscape."

We spent more time trying to figure out how to take pictures to represent the vastness of the field without cars in the background, only the Osage trees, which used to cover the entire area, but are now just a few in a row.

The sculpture has received the Columbus Monthly's "Best of Columbus Honors" since 2008, including the top spot four times.

Just around the corner from this field are three giant rabbits on top of a hill. Due to a construction project, we had to take the long way, which took us through a neighborhood. In the summer these rabbits overlook a water park. We went on a school day and had the rabbits to ourselves.

At 24 feet each, the Ballanetrae Giant Dancing Hares are four times taller than the corn statues. I love the pictures on the website which captures them at sunrise and sunset. Our pictures are not nearly as dramatic on that perfect midday.

The statues were commissioned in 2001 by British artist Sophie Ryder.

Approaching the statues I was first met with their enormity. Crafted from metal pipes, as you near them you realize each one is a treasure hut. Play "I Spy" as you ask children to find the coins, wrenches, comb, and other household items, or turn it into a scavenger hunt. It was fun having them to ourselves, but I suspect it is even more fun watching children interact with them dancing along while hunting for treasures.

On our drive to Dublin we passed Hayden Falls. As Don and I had just learned about this site at the I-70 Columbus rest stop we asked Betsey if we could stop. She said it has not been raining lately, so there is a chance we won't actually see the waterfall, but we could walk down the steps and look. 

She was right -- no water, but there was another group there who was willing the take the group picture we did not take when we first met in 2024.

Thank you to Betsey and John for a fun day in Central Ohio. Until next year.