Middletown, N.J.
sits in what Jerseyans call “Central Jersey”, inland from shore
towns, like Seabright and Long Branch. Middletown mostly serves as a
bedroom community for bankers, admen, and fashion house executives
who commute to the city via Amtrak and Coast City Coach buses. There
is no real downtown, only a few small stores scattered about the
place, and chain stores lining rt 35, the state highway that runs
north/south, cleaving Middletown neatly in half.
In
the late 1960s, the whole Central Jersey area still had a number of
working farms. New Jersey is, after all, the “Garden State”. The
growing, plant hardiness zone rating of 6 means that all fruits and
vegetables, save for tropical varieties, grow well there.
The
other crop widely grown in
Jersey is sod. With all the
housing developments going up, sod is always in demand. It’s
so much easier to lay sod than it is to rototill, water, de-weed, sow
seeds, re-water, and cover to get a lawn, a tedious process that
sometimes doesn’t work. Far easier to call the sod farm, and have
the farmer peel up sections of sod, using a kind of giant mechanized
cheese grater, then drop it
on your yard and water-easy peasy.
Today’s
tale concerns one particular sod farm owned
and run by Joe
Gulick, sod
farmer.
The
Joe T Gulick Sod Farm was located along Red Hill Rd, on the outside
of a slight left-hand bend. These days it seems odd to imagine a time
when New
Jersey had open farm land located on country roads. The state is,
after all, the mostly densely
populated of any state in the USA-1200 per square mile. By
comparison, my State of Vermont has about 60 per square mile. 45
years ago the place had many
acres of rich loam that supported, for instance, double sweet corn
seasons.
The
Gulick house stood up from the road, at the back of a horseshoe
shaped driveway It had three stories, a wrap around porch supported
by doric style columns, and was painted white, as was the custom of
most farm houses. Elevated placement assured that rain water would
flow away from rhe foundation, thus preventing flooding.
Behind
the house, a short walk through the dirt yard past chicken coops and
a goat pen, stood the main barn, large and red, with a weathervaned
cupola atop. Most of the regular farm machinery resided in the lower
part of the barn, along with the specialized sod-cutting tools.
Upstairs the loft held enough hay to feed all the cows and goats,
plus straw for bedding.
Joe
was
a lanky 74 year-old. He had
the long craggy face of a farmer, with wire rimmed glasses perched
high on his nose, and a flat topped buzz cut gray hair. Joe
had run the farm since inheriting it from his father, Cyrus. When Joe
took over, it was what’s called a “truck farm”, commonplace in
New Jersey, a farm with a retail stand out by the road, and a
wholesale operation selling produce and dairy products to local
stores, and even chain supermarkets.
Joe
and his wife Milly had no children. They spent almost all of their
time together. Milly even accompanied Joe on his sod delivery runs.
She just sat in the truck while Joe worked the sod-pallet moving
machinery to place the loads on customers’ yards, later to be
installed on the lawns by landscapers. Sometimes
the landscapers waited for Joe to come and he would drop sod around
the lawn for them
as they arranged it-no extra
charge. Joe was like that.
All the time Millie would pour cups of coffee for Joe, and write
in her notebook the details of the deliveries. She
always brought her knitting along too.
Millie had a genius color sense that she applied to her knitted
items. Everyone loved her hand made presents of scarves, sweaters and
blankets, which were partially fashioned in the passenger seat of
Joe’s flat-bed truck.
Millie
and Joe, I guess since they had no kids, maintained an open
invitation to local families to come to the farm anytime they wanted;
to picnic, play games, feed the animals. Parents
allowed their kids to go to the farm by themselves, to play, swim, or
even help with the farm chores. Kids
all loved their home away from home.
At
Christmastime their house was similarly open for visitors. People
would pitch in to put up decorations. Millie kept
the kitchen table piled high with cookies of all varieties, and all
the side tables decorated with homemade candy filled jars. Unending
coffee and hot chocolate completed the scene. Millie
organized visitors into carolers, walking to nearby neighbors to
serenade them with noel tunes.
They
even extended the Christmas
theme to the barn, where Joe set up a manger with two goats and a
cow. Marty Holler’s parents
always brought Jesus, Mary and Joseph statues, along with a light-up
star to hang overhead.
To
be sure, Joe and Millie were not religious people. I never remember
them going to church. Millie (nee
McGarrity) was Northern Irish
Protestant, and Joe Gulick
Polish Catholic, but
they never pressed it. I
think that they just liked the idea of Christmas, the sense of
fellowship and giving. Their only belief system was each other, and
they turned that joy outward to include other people in their happy,
peaceful world.
I
find myself thinking about Joe a lot lately. I’m his age now, and I
have just realized that my main goal in life is to bring happiness to
people, to be like Joe. He profoundly affected many people, back in
the day in Middletown, NJ. I don’t know if I’ve been successful
in reaching my goal, but I’m still having fun getting there.
