Those of you who grew up in Madison NJ, around Seven Oaks Circle, will remember a store we used to call “Jerry’s.” I have no idea where the name came from – because there was no Jerry at Jerry’s. It was run by two brothers. Anyway, it was a little store with a house above it that sold basic foodstuffs and liquor. More importantly to kids, they sold candy, ice cream, and bubble gum cards. This is where most of my card buying occurred.
In the late 1960’s card packs sold for 5 cents each. Most summer days, I could pester my mother enough to get a quarter so I could get some cards. I think it was a relief for her to get me out of the way for a couple of hours on a hot summer day. Twenty five cents; five packs; twenty five cards.
They had soda machines outside the store (I can remember as far back as 10 cents a bottle) and had the soda crates stacked up next to the machines. We would make our purchases – and then sit on the soda crates in front of the store, open our card packs, and begin boasting and trading. I am not sure the brothers appreciated our hanging out in front of their store for hours, but they never really bothered us much about leaving. I suppose as long as our parents were feeding us nickels, dimes and quarters, they were happy to let us spend it at their store. There were very few summer days from 1965 to 1969 that I did not spend at least some time at Jerry’s.
My father was not very interested in my card collecting. He was a busy man in those days. In addition to working, he was on the town’s board of education, and he taught an Advanced Management class at the local university. My brothers were much older than I was (eleven and seven years) so they weren’t too interested either. And I am not sure that any of my friends had a lasting interest in their cards. Card collecting was, and still is, a relatively solitary hobby. I think it feeds my need for orderliness and completeness. I wound up being an accountant and view my work as an outgrowth of my collecting.
In 2011 both my parents died. First Mom passed in February; then Dad in June. They were 90, in failing health, and (depending on your beliefs) may be in a far better place now. They outlived many of their contemporaries, but a fair number of people still showed up. As we gathered and chatted about old times with friends and family, my oldest brother came to me and said; “Follow me.” We approached a man who appeared to be around 70 or so. He looked vaguely familiar and still had some sandy blond hair among the gray. My brother asked, “Do you remember this guy?” My blank expression answered him. He said, “This is the guy that owned Jerry’s back when we were kids!”
I was astonished. Why was one of the brothers at Dad’s funeral? Apparently he was in Dad’s class at the university and remembered him fondly. Dad provided some mentoring and guidance as the brothers sold “Jerry’s”, kept the liquor license, and opened up a liquor store – on their way to earning a great deal of money. He wanted to pay his respects and was appreciative of Dad’s time and advice. He instantly became recognizable to me and I almost hugged him right there. I said; “If you only knew how much time I spent at your store – how many baseball cards I bought – how those memories linger with me! I still have my cards!” We chatted for a few minutes and I thanked him for coming.
You just never know, do you?
