"Oh, hail to New Jersey, it's the best in 48."

Our mother occasionally sang during long car trips. It was years before I understood that she made up these songs as she went. Over time they became as embedded as if they had been written by George M. Cohan himself. Who were we to doubt her?

One of her favorites was O Hail to New Jersey, a tribute to my father's birthplace and adopted home for the rest of us (but for sister Barby who was, in fact, born there.) She would present it with all the gravitas of an anthem:

O hail to New Jersey, its the fresh and Garden Staaaayaaate
O hail to New Jersey, it's the best in fourty eight.

She also concocted songs that tied in the names of the states that we were passing through at the time:

What did Della wear, boys, what did Della wear?
Well, she wore an old New Jersey, yeah to wore an old NJ.
We were all proud to be from New Jersey because, well, for most of our young lives, that's where we were from. Mom was from Quebec Canada and, had she ever felt unfairly exiled, she never expressed it to us. She was the drinker of the New Jersey Kool Aid in our family.

In retrospect, it could not have been easy. Her mother-in-law (my grandma) was a force. Her family had come to Parsippany several years after the Mayflower landing. Mom's father-in-law (my grandpa) was three generations removed from Scotland. His grandfather came to Patterson to lay the bricks that were needed to house the industrial revolution. They still lived in the same house in Elizabeth, not far from our new home in suburban Summit.

Grandpa had served six terms as a Congressman from the state's 6th District before I was born. He was a Republican whose tenure exactly overlaid those of President Franklin Roosevelt. I often wonder what it must have been like to be a Congressional Republican facing the tsunami of New Deal legislation during that period (not to mention WWII.)

Grandma's claim to fame was that she had created the New Jersey state flag (which is to say she put the state seal on a flag and got the state legislature to adopt it.)

So mom would sing away while trying to instill some piece of historical fiber into the back-seat brats (only on car trips) that were her four children.

New Jersey was a great place to grow up, but once I arrived in Massachusetts for prep school, it became a liability ("you're from the armpit of the nation??!!) Fortunately for me (at that moment) my family moved from New Jersey to Brookline Massachusetts. I never looked back. To the world and anyone else that was curious, I was theretofore from Boston.

My prep school friend Ford Fraker is from New Jersey and proud of it (Ford gave as good as he got when taunted about his home state.) Upon hearing about my move to Fort Lee, he sent a note welcoming me back home. At first I bristled, but then I smiled. Thanks Ford. It is good to be back!

AND, for you faithful blog readers who joined me at whatknotts.blogspot.com, you will be delighted to know that, within three months, I will have to register a vehicle and get a New Jersey driver's license.

The best in 48? I sure hope so!

Thanks for visiting.

Jack