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Oct 8 13 6:20 PM

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We never could fool the junkman, but that never deterred us little Germantown rascals from trying.  Time and again we gathered the gang (and our dog, Patches), and conspired how, this time, we could deceive the man at the Brickyard junkyard when he weighed out our little red-wagon of newspapers and scrap metal.  Not the heavy rocks we placed in the middle of our load, nor our feeble attempts to put our foot on the scale fooled him.  This junkman had seen it all.  He probably worked the summers on the boardwalks at the shore.  He would have been the guy that would guess your weight within a few pounds; he seldom lost.  We always left the junkyard disappointed but not without a renewed commitment: next time we'll get that extra quarter out of him..."Tomorrow is another day."
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Sep 5 14 11:46 AM

Farrared:  Thanks for putting a name on the junkman (Gussie), a name the years has erased.  It still makes me smile to recall us little tykes trying to con the con man.  You know who always won that battle.  For some odd reason I still recall that Wednesday was garbage night (for the pigs in NJ, we were told), placed in those small, metal pails.  Made we wonder if the Jews and Muslims weren't on to something by not eating pork, "unclean," they said.  But this hasn't deterred by love for bacon.  Sunday was big trash night, or treasure night to those of us with little red wagons.  That's when we collected the load we took to the junkyard on Monday to earn enough for a bare-ass swim at the GBC or a pop and Tastykake.  
Today, our trash, greens and recyclables are divided up into separate cans for weekly pickup.  For those cashing in on bottles, paper and metals, they take these to a recycling center...but it still doesn't pay much.  Thanks for the memory.

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