A Change in Perspective: New Jersey from Above

High above Fair Lawn, NJ, on March 2, before the proverbial flood

It's stunning how perspectives have changed over the past few days.

Here, for example, is NewYorker TV critic Emily Nussbaum yesterday on Twitter:

I am particularly haunted by recent views of my home state from drones above nearly deserted places, such as Jersey City:



Paterson and Newark:

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These normally busy downtowns are very quiet and empty lately as New Jerseyans stay at home to #flattenthecurve of coronavirus spread in the Garden State. Credit: @tariqzehawi and @danielleparhiz for NorthJersey.com. #northjerseynews

A post shared by NorthJersey.com & The Record (@northjerseynews) on Mar 28, 2020 at 7:01am PDT

Hoboken:



And Montclair:



Even more disconcerting, here's a March 20 video from NBC News showing the long line of cars waiting at a drive-through coronavirus testing area in Paramus:




These God's-eye views of my home state are reminders that life is at once more complex, absurd... and sometimes inspiring... than what we can immediately understand from our own, limited perspective.

How is it absurd? Turning to social media for some connection, my experience has been mixed.

First, I read a thread from Fr. Jim Chern, the Newark Archdiocese's director of Campus Ministry and chaplain at Montclair State University. I know him as thoughtful and devout, with a great sense of humor. Recently attacked by trolls, he felt compelled to respond: "My exposure to 'Catholic Twitter' is, as it turns out, thankfully limited. Kind of stunned at the judgmental and harsh tone: I was accused of abandoning our people because we've been ordered not to publicly celebrate sacraments. It was below the belt, untrue and uncharitable."

Then I joined a Twitter chat about "how to be professional on Twitter during a crisis." One of the guest expert's first posts was this:

"That's it," I exclaimed to no one. "I'm out!"

I drove to Mom's house to deliver some supplies.

The local nursing home; Borough Hall; graffiti along Route 80

Normally a 25-minute drive to Totowa, it took 20 minutes in sparse traffic. It would have taken even less time, but several local streets were blocked by landscaping crews hard at work -- as if Gatsby had dispatched a legion of gardeners to prepare our modest town for a lavish "it was only a bad dream" party.

On the highway, the cars on Route 80 were overly aggressive or overly cautious -- as if caught in an imaginary snowstorm. Mask-wearing drivers were filled with bravado, nerves or fear.

On the return trip through Paterson, I noticed the new graffiti on one of the highway's sound barriers. It's a rendering of the word "CORONAVIRUS."

Back home, my grown daughter asked if we could go for a walk. Some exercise; some diversion.

It was dusk, and our surroundings humbled us. Church doors were locked. The large American flag had been lowered to half-staff in front of Borough Hall; in back, lights were ablaze to discourage teens from gathering in empty playgrounds and ball fields.

Everything had subtly changed, except that the liquor store was still open. Then an ambulance approached the local nursing home, where the virus had already caused at least five deaths.

The ambulance arrived with lights flashing, but no sirens. My daughter explained to me that this likely meant someone else had died.

We walked on in silence after that. We didn't know what to say.

Churches closed; liquor stores open

Later, my daughter and I watched an on-demand movie, "The Invisible Man." It was a makeshift "movie night" like the ones we used to have when she was a little girl. As we watched, she discovered on her iPad that the movie was based on a book, and I explained to her about H.G. Wells.

Before going to sleep Saturday night, I returned to social media on my own iPad to check on the health and safety of family and friends on Facebook and Instagram. I've been happy to see their faces, and the faces of coworkers, on recent video chats.

I woke up and read The New York Times with over 100 others by logging in to the "readalong" hosted every Sunday morning by Sree Sreenivasan. His engaging guest was the author Harlan Coben, and you can view a replay here.

So, in fairness to social media, I have in fact found some comfort there.

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I wonder, after all, what the God's eye view of my family is really like.

Perhaps it's a view from above of two people walking down River Road in New Milford, NJ, before dusk: a dad and his daughter.

There's no way to tell, from such a distance, how grateful and lucky we are. How much we love each other. Or how our journey will end.

After a while, the drone would simply move on, and the perspective changes again.

We too become invisible.

April 3, 2020 - video here

I Miss You, NYC

It's Throwback Thursday, so I posted this photo on Instagram tonight from two years ago, the first time Nancy and I had ever been to baseball's Opening Day (and the first time we ever descended the precariously steep escalator to the Hudson Yards subway station).

We rode one of the MTA museum's 7 Trains to Citi Field that day.

I happily snapped photos of the train's arrival, and we sat in one of the 50-year-old "redbird" cars.

My Uncle Charlie had taken me to my first MLB game on one of those same subway cars, arriving to then newly-built Shea Stadium, across from the World's Fair, and ascending to our seats in the precariously steep nose-bleed section of Shea Stadium.

Hudson Yards station

That first ride on the 7 Train was a rite of passage for me, full of odd and eye-opening sights I had never seen as a boy growing up in the New Jersey suburbs. Things were different in New York, in a profound way.

Just like when I rode the train with Uncle Charlie in the 1960s, on Opening Day 2018 the tinny subway sound system played the hokey song "Meet the Mets" when we arrived at the ballpark station. That was a great day, and Nancy and I bought tickets for the Mets home opener in 2019... and Opening Day 2020 too.

But that game didn't take place today.

New York is on lockdown. No one knows when the baseball season will start, and everyone grimly accepts this fact given the current life-and-death Covid-19 scenarios.

In "an abundance of caution," our New York City office, like so many others, has been closed these past two weeks. I haven't been to the city since Friday, March 13th.

My daughter is currently on lockdown in a Manhattan apartment, but she assures us she's fine. I keep wanting to drive to the city to "save" her, but I really think I want to drive there to save myself.

I'm very much in love with New York. I'm a little worried about how it will change in the coming months.

My Google Photos folder is filled with past images of the city. And, more often than not, these are the photos that Google's mysterious algorithm chooses to "auto-stylize." Here's an example:

St. Patrick's Cathedral

In fact, here's an entire folder of 120 images of New York City that Google has auto-stylized for me (often, nostalgically, editing them in black and white).

When I've worked in New York these past few months, I've taken cell phone photos all the time. The city is full of beauty and life, architecture and art... and still odd and eye-opening sights.

Most recently, on March 11, I posted this photo on Twitter of Times Square and one of my favorite places, Grand Central Terminal:

It was a Wednesday morning (evidenced by GCT's iconic brass and onyx four-sided clock). I was simply struck by how far fewer people there were than usual in pre-lockdown Manhattan.

A BuzzFeed editor saw the tweet and asked to add the Grand Central photo to the end of a story, "24 Shocking Pictures of Famous Places Before and After the Coronavirus Outbreak." All fine... until Complex Media re-posted the photo on Instagram in this way:

In a little more than half an hour, more than 34,000 people had "liked" the post, but the comments were turning rapidly ugly.

Pictures don't tell the whole story, and there was certainly more context to the BuzzFeed post. In contrast, Complex's stark Instagram post looked... odd... showing Grand Central at an obviously different time. People were commenting that my photo was inflaming fear.

Magically, just as the photo began to go viral in a bad way, Complex deleted the post. So ended my brief reign as a perpetrator of fake news.

The lesson: a picture is (possibly) worth a thousand (misleading) words.

That is, unless it's a photo of New York City in the distance, without any words at all:

It's Snowing in New Jersey...

... because things aren't weird enough here on the morning of March 23, 2020.

How are you coping with the new realities?

Working remotely full-time lately, I've been finding and using new ways to use technology to stay in touch with others.

Thanks especially to Sree Sreenivasan 谢斯睿, Steffen Kaplan (their mantra and challenge is to "Always Be Creating") and to this past Saturday's virtual Social Media Weekend conference sponsored by Pace University and Muck Rack.

I've also traveled around my home state of New Jersey, partly in efforts to care for Mom. For me, stopping along the way to take photos has been a source of joy.

Above are images that Google Photos' algorithm randomly auto-stylized over the past two weeks. It's an interesting theme. (Context/captions are posted on my Instagram sites: @bvarphotos and @foundinnj)

This morning's springtime snow isn't sticking to the ground. So I don't have any photos to prove it.

Instead, I'll sign off with this image of street art or graffiti or word from the prophets written on this sound-barrier wall along Route 80 yesterday in Paterson, as I was returning home from Mom's:

PS - Let me know if you want to talk or (remotely) visit: bvar@verizon.net

3 Days in Florida: What I Saw at Spring Training

Jacob deGrom's first pitch in 2020

Ever since spring training began, my fancy has turned lightly to thoughts of baseball.

This past weekend, I attended three Grapefruit League games, two won my favorite team, the New York Mets:

• Rays vs. Nationals this past Friday at FITTEAM Ballpark (the Washington/Houston home stadium in West Palm Beach, Florida)
• Mets vs. Astros on Leap Day Saturday, also at FITTTEAM
• Nationals vs. Mets on Sunday at Clover Park (the Mets home stadium in Port St. Lucie, Florida)

I’m posting these thoughts about my first-ever spring training visit on March 5 – the infamous day, 48 years ago, that Jim Fregosi broke his right thumb during a workout. The Mets had obtained Fregosi in an off-season trade months earlier for Nolan Ryan, and their careers subsequently took very different turns, with Ryan winding up in the Hall of Fame.

So the life of a Mets fan, like life in general, is not always easy or fair. Still, I am eager for the arrival of the 2020 season and happily took photos of FITTEAM field as soon as I arrived…

Scenes from FITTEAM (Jalen Beeks, lower left)

My wife gently nudged me and asked if it was a good idea to be seen in an Astros ballpark with a camera pointed toward the batter’s box.

One theme of the weekend was the Astros cheating scandal. Fans everywhere chatted constantly about it. During the Mets/Astros game, fans were especially vocal, chanting “Beat the Cheats!” to the tone and rhythm of “Let’s Go Mets!” It’s anyone’s guess how long this hostility will last, but I wonder whether it will demoralize or galvanize the Astros players as the season progresses.

Another weekend theme was how nice people are to you when you wear Mets gear. No matter where we were -- at the ballpark, airport, hotel, in bars and restaurants, or walking the streets of West Palm Beach -- people would nod, smile, wave, or say “Let’s Go Mets!”

One Rays fan, an older gentleman, saw my Mets cap and bemoaned how much he’ll miss Marcus Stroman, who left the Blue Jays to join the Mets last year. As he kept talking, he revealed a schoolboy crush on Nikki Huffman, Stroman’s personal trainer, who he will miss even more.

Scenes from West Palm Beach (Clematis Street, lower left)

Watching the Mets players interact up close gave me a hopeful feeling for the future. The players seem to genuinely enjoy each other.

The day before we left for Florida, mlb.com’s Anthony DiComo posted an endearing story describing how a group of Mets players have formed an impromptu “Cookies Club,” meeting up regularly after road games to eat peanut-butter cookies, drink 2% milk, and talk about baseball and life.

I saw evidence of this refreshing decency with my own eyes: Jacob DeGrom joked with the home plate umpire after leaving the pitcher’s mound following three innings of work. I’m guessing it was about the five strikes the ump had given the Nationals’ Michael Taylor in a previous at bat. And when muscular, fan-favorite Tim Tebow pulled back from barreling late into second base during a meaningless, late-game double play, Nationals middle infielders gave him a respectful, appreciative nod.

Even though today’s culture is so divisive, and cheaters evidently do sometimes win, I refuse to believe that nice guys always finish last. Give me Luis Rojas over Leo Durocher any day. I’ll take my chances.

Scenes from Clover Park (immortal Tom Seaver, lower right)

Niceness is contagious, even if it isn’t yet a global pandemic. It’s amazing how friendly the Mets vendors and support staff are when we attend games in New York. That vibe extended to Clover Park, which has been newly renovated and mirrors some of the best features of CitiField (cheers, Jim Beam Bourbon Bar!).

Clover Park was more fan-friendly and comfortable than FITTEAM. Upon entering on Sunday, the guards let my wife through with a friendly wave despite problems with a wonky metal detector. We joked that had the same thing happened at Yankee Stadium, I would have spent the afternoon bailing her out from a Bronx detention center.

Scooter and the Big Man warm up to face the Astros

My Dad, a great amateur ballplayer in his own right, used to observe that, however old he was, he always felt he was younger than the major leaguers he watched on TV. In real life, that conceit is hard to maintain. All the players look young… and younger than on TV. They also seem bigger in real life; not like actors, who always seem smaller.

Today’s baseball players are in terrific shape and are the most talented in the world. I chuckle to myself when people claim that Babe Ruth would be just as effective today as he was in the 1920s. Back then Ruth’s opponents came from a small, sometimes out-of-shape, homogeneous talent pool who did not have the benefit of all the advances over the past century in health, nutrition and sports science.

Strolling past the left-field bullpen during the Rays-Nationals game, I heard what sounded like a gunshot, only to look down to discover it was the pop of a Jalen Beeks fastball hitting a warmup catcher’s mitt. Young Beeks’ stats suggest he’s so far been an average big-league middle reliever, but I wonder if Ruth had seen or heard anything like him.

My wife wore her “Scooter and the Big Man” T-shirt to Sunday’s game, which happened to be scheduled on Michael Conforto’s 27th birthday. The E Street Band reference in this case refers to “Scooter” Conforto and “Big Man” Pete Alonso.

deGrom warming up

It also happened to be deGrom’s first start of the spring that day (we were doubly lucky: having witnessed Stephen Strasburg’s first spring start on Friday).

It was quite a sight to see “Jake” warm up on the third-base sideline (I wonder why the Mets dugout is on the third-base side of Clover Park; isn’t the home team always on the first-base side?). All the other Mets pitchers gathered around to study/watch/admire deGrom’s seemingly effortless delivery. Catcher Wilson Ramos, who looks to begin the season in top physical condition, was squatting closer to the ground and setting a lower target than he did during the 2019 season.

Once the game started, deGrom made short work of the first three batters he faced: a great sign for the season ahead. Not only that, but Scooter and the Big Man came through: Alonso getting his first hit of the spring and Conforto hitting a birthday home run.

It was a memorable Sunday. Only one thing was missing: Where was Mr. Met?

My only sighting of Mr. and Mrs. Met at Clover Park

Other things of interest?

• FITTEAM Ballpark has no clock on its expansive scoreboard, as if time had stopped… or we were in Las Vegas.
• The hawkers in spring training are especially entertaining, although the “very, very cold beer / if I were you I’d order a beer” guy met his match when a high school baseball team sitting together all jokingly stood, shouted and raised their hands when he passed.
• The between-inning amusements are sweetly reminiscent of scenes from “Bull Durham.” Games at both parks were interrupted by an urgent plea from the PA announcer for the owner of a certain car. The centerfield scoreboard then displayed said vehicle, and the announcer enthusiastically informed the crowd that it had won that day’s “Dirtiest Car in the Parking Lot” contest, awarding the owner a free wash.
• Florida is filled with palm trees and churches and concrete utility poles.

In the end, my wife and I enjoyed our stay in West Palm Beach very much. It features inviting bars and restaurants, street art and musicians, and people who like to dine outdoors on Clematis Street in shorts and short-sleeve shirts in 53-degree weather.

We crossed the bridge to moneyed Palm Beach only once. I felt claustrophobic there, finding the architecture imposing and ostentatious.

Perhaps that’s where the owners of the Yankees live.

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Postscript, from my Instagram account in March 2021:

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Hey, Google, Show Me the Odds of a Miracle

As February comes to a close, I’m still thinking of Google’s “Loretta” Super Bowl commercial, which has so far been viewed more than 61 million times on YouTube.

The ad was a discussion topic at a recent event sponsored by the New Jersey chapter of IABC (International Association of Business Communicators).

Newhouse’s chief marketing officer, Jason Blake, and Sandy Becker from Rutgers Business School delivered a great post-game review of the Super Bowl advertising winners and losers.

IABC NJ event in Montclair, Feb. 11

To Blake and Becker, Google’s Loretta ad “humanized tech better than anything in a long time.”

Those in the room nodded in agreement, and a few said the ad had moved them to tears.

Less than two weeks following the “Big Game,” Blake and Becker noted that this year’s ads, with few exceptions, hadn’t been as memorable or as entertaining as the half-time show. Many advertisers desperately attempted to cram celebrities into vignettes with confusing messaging.

Upon further review, I’ve discovered that not everyone felt the same as our IABC focus group. On the positive side, I was even more moved to learn that the ad is based on a true story.

On the negative side, tech guru Shelly Palmer called it “the most evil advertisement” he’d ever seen because Google doesn’t disclose that it uses the information provided by the widower in the ad -- and by all of us in real life -- simply for marketing purposes.

Similarly, Joelle Renstrom wrote about “The Sinister Realities of Google's Tear-Jerking Super Bowl Commercial” on Slate. And then there’s this parody ad produced by Gardiner Bryant, with its coda that calls out Google’s “creepiness”:



It seems the world is divided in two: many who accept the ad at face value, and many -- like my wife -- who wonder about the implications and unintended consequences of letting technology supplant real human interaction.

I think, after all, that I still share the view of my friends at IABC.

I don't think the ad shows the extent of Google’s power; I think it shows Google’s limits.

Something that happened last Sunday explains why, and I wanted to post about it tonight because I fear my reasoning is as ephemeral as the waning hours of Leap Day.

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Last Sunday, family and friends celebrated the 90th birthday of my uncle, a retired priest.

As my wife and I drove to the party at Enzo’s Ristorante & Pizzeria in Budd Lake, NJ, I thought a lot about Fr. Julian’s life.

Not to “Loretta” him here, but I remember a conversation I had with my grandmother -- who would have been 97 at the time -- one summer, years ago.

As we sat on the front porch of her (now Julian’s) house in Budd Lake, Nonna told the story of the days following Fr. Julian’s birth: he had been so sick that the best doctors were convinced he would die within days.

Nonna said she prayed to Mary to keep him alive. She vowed to always take care of Julian, no matter what... believing, even if he survived, he would require 24/7 care for the rest of his life. She promised God that if only Julian would live she would never ask for anything else for herself ever again.

She never did. She never had to. She considered herself the luckiest mother in the world.

Julian grew to be the strongest of the Varettoni boys (and both his brothers were athletes and Navy officers). He always took care of Nonna, just as he has helped countless others throughout his life.

The miracle of Fr. Julian’s 90th birthday party is something Google could never have predicted. He, like Loretta and her husband, have had wonderful lives.

They, like the rest of us, are also among the rabble who share general similarities that can exploited for commercial gain. We’re the same rabble who do all the working and playing and living and dying -- but we all have individual stories that Google can’t get its fingers on.

Our lives are not algorithms. Love and death are unfathomable mysteries. We’re all miracles in our own way.

Not even Google can commoditize our souls.

Celebrating 49 Years of Teaching Photography at Montclair State

Klaus Schnitzer at the podium.

I stumbled upon a great tribute last night: the new exhibit at the George Segal Gallery on the Montclair State University campus.

It's an installation showcasing the work of photographer Klaus Schnitzer, and the influence he's had on pupils throughout his 49-year tenure as an Art and Design professor.

The exhibit runs through Saturday, April 4, 2020. It includes work by 54 of Schnitzer's students, and you can read more information and details here.

I was there last night to show support for a school my wife and oldest daughter both attended. My daughter -- who I am so proud of -- graduated there with a teaching degree. She's currently a special ed teacher, and she's also currently studying to obtain her master's degree at Montclair State.

Susan Cole, the university's president, introduced herself to us last night, which was very sweet. She said something important and true about this state school.

Schnitzer's photography on display.

She proudly noted that while many other schools strive for diversity and inclusion, Montclair State is already diverse and inclusive.

Just like the best parts of New Jersey itself, I'd add.

I was delighted and amazed by the gallery's current exhibit. Consider stopping by before April 4. I think you'll be delighted too.

This is a wonderful testament to a productive and meaningful career, to the profound influence one life has on so many others, and to the enduring legacy of art.

George Segal's "Summer Cabin."

Poetry Trumps Politics in Ginsberg’s Paterson

Grand Stairway at the Hamilton Club.

Of all the political theater I've witnessed over the past few days, none took me by more surprise than Congressman Bill Pascrell's performance this past Saturday at the historic Hamilton Club in Paterson, NJ.

The occasion was the 40th anniversary of the Poetry Center at Passaic County Community College. You can read about the center, and its legendary founder and executive director, Maria Mazziotti Gillan, here and here.

I attended the event on a lark -- because I love poetry, and I wanted to hear the poets who had won this year's Allen Ginsberg Awards. I was expecting to be among perhaps a dozen attendees. In fact, there were many, many more.

Including Rep. Pascrell.

He said he was a lifelong fan and writer of poetry. At the event, he read a poem he had written many years ago. It was scrawled in a script reminiscent of my grandfather's handwriting. Here's the 90-second video:

Witnessing a politician's simple and unapologetic ode to wanting to live life as a doorman was an unexpected blessing.

Perhaps appreciation for poetry can repair our losses, since we've otherwise seen the best minds of our generation destroyed by madness.

Other highlights from Saturday included:

• Gillan's story about Ginsberg passing notes to her at a reading many years ago.
• All the wonderful snippets of language I heard (I'm looking at you Marc Harshman, poet-laureate of West Virginia, and your "angel words" and the people who lived on the mountaintop and kept rocks in their pockets so they wouldn't blow away).
• The sheer variety of poets, with a special shout-out to Elizabeth Marchitti who, like my Mom, is 88 years old and lives in Totowa (the next town over from Paterson, where Ginsberg grew up).

The historic Hamilton Club itself was a surprise and wonder. As were the displays by Gaetano Federici throughout the building. Here's more about the sculptor, and here's his bust of David in front of a window overlooking downtown:

The charm of the event even extended to the catering, provided by an opera singer (Sheldrake Lukas, left) and a poet (Xandt Wyntreez):

Finally, I walked away from the event with a bag of swag, including a print of the event poster, featuring a beautiful image of Hamilton House by photographer/poet Mark Hillringhouse. At the event, Mark said he sought to take an image of the building "that seemed to glow from the inside... the same way poetry makes us feel."

The swag also included a 40th anniversary t-shirt and a thick, bound copy of The Paterson Literary Review (2012-2013).

If anyone would like that copy, drop me a line at bvar@verizon.net, and I'll mail it to you for free.

Feb. 1 was also the deadline for next year's Allen Ginsberg Awards. I submitted one of my poems previously posted here.

Considering the quality of the competition, it will be difficult to get enough votes for an honorable mention. Harshman -- one of two first-prize winners this year (Francesca Maxime and her poem, "Pleather," was the other) -- prefaced his reading Saturday by noting that he had long-ago "graduated from rhyme."

I never did. With apologies to Mr. Ginsberg, epic free verse is not my style. I blame Mr. Poe for that.

Here's a Bright Idea: Visit a National Park

140 years ago today -- Jan. 27, 1880 -- Thomas Edison's received his patent for the light bulb.

I learned this fact on Saturday on a visit with some photography friends to the National Park Service's site in West Orange, NJ.

This is one of my favorites of all the national parks in New Jersey. Like the Great Falls in Paterson, the Thomas Edison National Historical Park is close to home... and very photogenic.

You can take a virtual tour using the National Park Service's great online resources, including this picture guide. 

To me, our national parks always manage to provide enlightening perspectives. I mean, you'd think light bulbs would older than 140, considering all the advancements since, right?

Here's a short slideshow with some of my images from this weekend:

I hope this encourages you to visit and take in some history. The rangers there are friendly and helpful.

And photos, including selfies with life-sized Edison cutouts, are welcome (provided you don't use flash).

This is in contrast to the now-closed J.D. Salinger exhibit I recently visited at the New York Public Library, where all photography was prohibited.

I suppose, though, that was on-brand for Salinger, who provided his own enlightening perspectives in his own way... and who, alas, died 10 years ago today, 130 years after the invention of the light bulb.

Fighting to Save Endangered Historic Sites

Photo: David Woeller

You and I will never again have the chance to see, in real life, one of the New Jersey's most iconic sites -- the rustic A.M.E. church in Bivalve (on the state's southern shore).

This David Woeller photo is reprinted with permission from a 2014 story in The Press of Atlantic City, one of several news items in recent years about art or photography exhibits that have included images of the church.

This building was demolished this past week.

Here's an Instagram post by @tinychurchesnj with links to several photos and detailed comments about this sad news.

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The #Bivalve AME Church was lost this weekend. We have contacted the news but haven’t seen any coverage yet besides these posts from Facebook. The property was owned by Bivalve Packing Co and we are told they had plans to restore the church. The last we saw was over the summer when we shared a photo of the old roof ripped off with a post that said it would be replaced. Apparently it never was. The rain poured in for half a year until the structure was so deteriorated it got torn down. We don’t know why Bivalve Packing didn’t finish the restoration. Why the destruction was sped up by the removal of the roof or the demolition by bulldozer, we also don’t know. We only wish we knew about it before it was too late. This is a major loss to the black history of South Jersey. #thisplacematters #demolitionbyneglect #demolitionisnottheanswer #historicpreservation #historicpreservationmatters #someplacenotanyplace #blackhistorymonth #blackhistory #southjersey #portnorris #commercialtownship #mauriceriver #cumberlandcounty

A post shared by Historic NJ Churches (@tinychurchesnj) on Jan 14, 2020 at 5:13pm PST

There are so many evocative photos of this church. Here's photographer Francesca Frank posting this week on Facebook:



The loss of any church is a loss to New Jersey, but this one is particularly sad.

I post photos of churches from around the state every Sunday at @foundinnj, and several of the sites I've visited are currently for sale (the New Jersey Jesus Baptist Church in Garfield and the Alpine Community Church).

When I heard that the Friends of Waterloo Village had disbanded at year-end 2019, I feared for the United Methodist Church there too. But then I was happy to learn that this church is not only still holding services every Sunday morning at 10, it is also sponsoring Feed Fest 2020 on Sunday, Feb. 9 -- a family-friendly party to help feed those in need.

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I was also happy to learn this week about "Saved or Lost Forever," a documentary by Preservation New Jersey, scheduled to premiere at a March 4 fund-raiser at Newark Symphony Hall.

Below is a video preview (with event information here):




As a recent story in The Record notes, one of the sites mentioned in this video -- Camden High School's "Castle on the Hill" -- has already been leveled.

Another story in The Record describes how protections for Liberty State Park have failed amid a billionaire's push to expand a golf course into the wetlands.

These too were/are sacred places. They deserve to be cherished and protected.

I am grateful to Perservation New Jersey for their good work, and to all the photographers, artists and neighbors who capture and preserve the beauty and history of our home.

And yet I am horrified by this last photo of the A.M.E church in Bivalve...

Photo: @tkportnorris on Instagram

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Here's a hopeful postscript to this post, based on a 1/22/20 article in The Record:

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Good news. According to a story in northjersey.com today: “The historic Alpine Community Church has been sold, not to a developer, as residents and history buffs feared, but to a Rockland County, NY, congregation. The 149-year-old stone church on Closter Dock Road was sold for $2.1 million on Dec. 6 after being on the market for more than a year... This brings resolution to years of uncertainty for the #landmark.” #njhistory #njchurcheverysunday ⛪️ #church

A post shared by Found in NJ (@foundinnj) on Jan 22, 2020 at 6:47am PST