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Thanksgiving in New Jersey

5 Comments 04 December 2009

Thanksgiving in New Jersey

On August 24, 1876, Abraham Browning spoke to an audience in Philadelphia at the Centennial Exhibition. Abraham was asked to say a few words about New Jersey. He compared New Jersey to an immense barrel, filled with good things to eat and open at both ends, with Pennsylvanians grabbing from one end and the New Yorkers from the other. From his speech came the nickname, “The Garden State,” which he said when referencing the many lush floral gardens and the agricultural produce which nearby cities thrived off of.

Of course, over the years, New Jersey has developed a bit of a different reputation. Although it is still an agricultural center for New York and Pennsylvania, and still possesses many beautiful gardens in Central and South Jersey (not to mention the exquisite Pine Barrens), the Garden State’s crime, pollution, and highest volume of people per square mile have shadowed it’s good name.

It’s no surprise that people are confused at the name Garden State when they arrive at Newark airport and see miles and miles of marshland covered with industrial vehicles, construction equipment, and traffic. On top of all that there is a mixed stench in the air (the reason why I was not allowed to ride to the airport with the windows open as a child) of garbage, saltwater and decomposing bodies.

Crime has infiltrated the “meadowlands” in the past century, filling the states northern half with a strange scent, a bleak and dismal aura and a bad rep. Recent court cases have exploited the dirty details of the New Jersey Mafia. Go ahead and google “dead bodies hudson river” and have a hayday reading what could be a whole new season of Unsolved Mysteries. But before you try and resurrect Robert Stack, read about the corrupt politics of the Garden State which has caused some harsh statements about my home state.

Alex Giannattasio from the Johnsonville Press (as indicated on NJ.com’s article “Welcome to the Dirty Jersey”) says,

Corruption in New Jersey politics is not a new phenomenon. Rather, it is a part of everyday political life in New Jersey, the lard that keeps the densely packed population from grating against each other . . .

Thus, New Jersey’s new nickname: The Dirty Jersey. Quite the 180 degree turn, no? When I went home for Thanksgiving, I did not see a Garden State with lush farms, nor did I see the corrupt and crime ridden meadowlands, but what I did see, is something (which I have previously blogged about) that most people haven’t. The beautiful woodland of North Jersey.

Most people will probably never see it, because it’s private property and you have to jump a barbed wire fence and cross a river to get there. So for you non-fence-jumpers, I took some pictures. Enjoy.

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Tom Smith

Tom Smith - who has written 31 posts on Tom Smith Hearts.


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5 Comments so far

  1. kitty says:

    I never saw the pictures before. They’re awesome ^.^

  2. Lynn says:

    New Jersey has a bad reputation, but there are many beautiful, peaceful places to enjoy here as you have shown.

  3. scott says:

    wow i,m a star my carreer has just been launched……

  4. john says:

    good fishing and hiking , ive been there too…

  5. Tom Smith says:

    John-agreed. If the fish were biting on the days that I was camera ready, this would be a much more interesting post.


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  • Mom: You better hide your stuff.
    Me: What stuff?
    Mom: Your little doo-dads.
    Me: What doo-dads?
    Mom: You know…
    Me: What? My weed paraphernalia?
    Mom: Yeah.
    Me: Why?
    Mom: People can see it in your apartment
    Me: Who’s going to see it in my apartment? My friends?
    Mom: It could be anyone, you never know who’s going to be in your apartment
    Me: I’ll never know who’s in my apartment?
    Phone Conversation

    09/07/10

  • Patting myself on the back

    After finishing Matt taibbi’s great derangement, I feel so validated about my attitude toward politics. 

    There are certain beliefs I have about politics that people easily dismiss because they come off nihilistic, overly negative, and well, easy to dismiss. I have, since 2008, believed:

    1. The American political system is solely a business of businessmen, with money the number 1 priority, always.
    2. American foreign involvement in war or occupation in third world nations will never stop, it is embedded into the economy and always will be.
    3. The candidates are the same, other than small social issue debates. Both Democrats and Republicans support the war regardless of what they say, and the President has little power to make drastic changes to a system that already produces massive wealth for the upper class.

    In The Great Derangement Taibbi explores American politics and the right wing religious culture, only to discover that everything in this country can be whittled down to one key concept: $

    So when people argue with me about NOT voting for the candidate who will bring “CHANGE,” or try and make me feel like an asshole for not partaking in the hype/buildup/debate or the 08 election, I can now simply say- you are not on my level on knowledge and understanding.

    You don’t have a choice, you don’t win, and you can’t change it. You live in a terrible country (unless you like both buying new products and working 9-5).

    07/29/10

  • Here I have a confession to make. It’s not something that’s easy to explain, but here goes. After two days of nearly constant religious instruction, songs, worship, and praise— two days that for me meant an unending regimen of forced and fake responses— a funny thing started to happen to my head. There is a transformational quality in these external demonstrations of faith and belief. The more you shout out praising the Lord, singing along to those awful acoustic tunes, telling people how blessed you feel, and so on, the more a sort of mechanical Christian skin starts to grow all over your real self. Even if you’re a degenerate Rolling Stone reporter inwardly chuckling and busting on the whole scene-even if you’re intellectually enraged by the ignorance and arrogant prejudice flowing from the mouth of a terminal ambition case like Phil Fortenberry— outwardly you’re swaying to the gospel and singing and praising and acting the part, and those outward ministrations assume a kind of sincerity in themselves. And at the same time, that “inner you” begins to get tired of the whole spectacle and sometimes forgets to protest—in my case checking out into baseball reveries and other daydreams while the outer me did the “work” of singing and praising. At any given moment, which one is the real you?
    Matt Taibbi, The Great Derangement

    07/27/10


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