As I drove into Madison, New Jersey, a quintessential suburban town, I wondered what I had gotten myself into. Actually, I should back up; I had second thoughts about my chosen path as I sat in rush hour traffic in the Bronx on my initial trek to graduate school. Second thoughts might have seemed premature, I know; however, my “fight or flight” instinct had taken over, and I felt like fleeing. The plethora of sights, smells, and sounds of the city, a veritable sensory overload, filled me with uncertainty and a desire to retreat to more familiar surroundings. And Madison, overflowing with hurrying people living in identical houses and dining in bustling eateries open past 8 p.m. made me pine for the friendly faces and simple serenity of downeast Maine. But I persevered, clinging to the enticing offer of a full-scholarship to seminary and following, sometimes grudgingly, the ministerial call (and I have come to appreciate restaurants open late!).
However, after a couple of weeks in my temporary hometown, feelings of unsettledness and uncertainty began to dissipate. In addition to classes and the multi-faceted parts of seminary life, I found myself navigating the subways of New York City and thoroughly enjoying the cultural and social offerings of the Big Apple. I attended Sunday service at Riverside Church on the Upper West Side, and saw the pulpit where one of my heroes, the Reverend William Sloane Coffin, anti-war activist and eloquent advocate for justice and human rights, preached his prophetic sermons. I’ve pushed through shoulder-to-shoulder crowds in Times Square, seen Jim Morrison’s hand written lyrics to The Doors' “L.A. Woman” at the Hard Rock Cafe, and enjoyed some delectable vegetarian Indian food at a funky restaurant in the Lower East Side. I now understand why many refer to New York City as the greatest in the world.
Madison, and indeed Morris County, presents a stark contrast to any Washington County, Maine town. The median income is nearly six figures and the Jaguars, Mercedes, BMWs, and Hummers line the streets. A cursory glance through any real estate brochure reveals the average price for a home rarely falls below half a million dollars. I have discovered, though, regardless of such economic disparities, New Jersey folks can be as warm and hospitable as downeast Mainers. Despite the stereotypes of New Jersey waving with one finger, being uncourteous in check-out lines and ignoring basic rules of driving, I have found many kind souls who, thankfully, have shown these hackneyed ideas to be untrue. So, while I may not call Madison, New Jersey my permanent place of residence, I know I’ll enjoy the next few years.
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