Living on the state line is an interesting place to be, especially since PA and NJ have such different approaches to life, law and politics. I grew up on the NJ side and, as a liberal from a bluecollar family, was grossly outnumbered. Now I’m on the bluecollar side of the river.

Life here is never boring. Take the 4th of July for instance. PA, in their usual pragmatically liberal way, allows the sale of fireworks along the state border AS LONG AS you sign a paper that says you are immediately taking them out of state (presumably two blocks away to New Jersey, where they’re totally illegal.) I think the idea is to import money in exchange for exporting problems. Ya gotta love state’s rights, and wonder if the NJ State Police pay a bounty to enterprising PA fireworks merchants for calling in license plate numbers of large vehicles loaded up and headed onto the eastbound onramp.

Though it’s legal to SELL fireworks in PA, it is illegal for people without permits to USE fireworks in PA. This, however, doesn’t stop the enterprising fireworks merchants, who, along the highway exits near the river bloom the first week in June like mushrooms, overnight, from selling the fireworks to people who are sporting PA license plates (but, of course, sign the appropriate form saying said fireworks are leaving the state. Yeah. Uh-huh.) This law also doesn’t stop PA people without permits from USING said fireworks in bizarrely hazardous ways. Most of these people are my neighbors. It is such a widespread civil disobedience (though for no reason of common good) that it is impossible for our normally reasonably competent police force to keep up with enforcement.

The town I live in is an old river city, most of it woodframe and built before 1900 (and much before 1800!) with many rowhomes and lots of wonderfully ancient buildings, sometimes slightly and delightfully ramshackle, set very close together. There are also many, many trees with overhanging branches and other things which make this town akin to a city that existed before a certain cow kicked over the kerosene lantern.

What this means is that 4th of July weekend you’ll find me sitting outside with my grill, my cooler of beer, and the garden hose and fire extinguisher ready to put out any randomly occurring conflagrations caused by said neighbors, who will be drinking a LOT more beer (and harder beverages and possibly other illegal intoxicants) than me while they set off said fireworks- and possibly a river city funeral pyre.

I’m glad my building is brick with a slate roof.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, June 29th, 2005 at 12:07 pm and is filed under Personal Stuff. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.