Nonfiction from Julia Sullivan

Photo: K Adams

Tall Oaks

An exploration of a suburban New Jersey site through the homes and lives of residents from 2002-2021.
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Note: Real names have been changed for privacy.

Introduction

Tall Oaks is a microcosm of a childhood—my childhood. It began as a street, but became an image in my mind for the neighborhood in which I lived: overwhelmingly white, largely middle and lower-middle class, heavily populated by Orthodox Jews, and within walking distance of the public library. Tall Oaks was always desolate on Halloween, forsythia always yellow at the end of March or early April, quiet during the day and even quieter at night. When I was a child, the block seemed endlessly expansive; “lion’s fur” indicated we were near wildlife, fairy gardens impressed visions of magic, and enchanted woods beckoned me off the sidewalk if only for a moment. Although Tall Oaks—I say this with pain—is not the same to me as it was then, there is still a lingering feeling of its past ascertainable at a certain time of day, during a certain time of year. In the summer, at golden hour, I feel like I am in my childhood (albeit tropical) snow globe. I am alive and protected again, uninhibited and unaware. I feel it then and, mostly, only then.

Site Description

Tall Oaks Drive is bounded to the east by Warwick Lane and to the west by Darby Road, Dogwood Court, and Surrey Lane, in a neighborhood colloquially referred to as Colonial Oaks. The street forms a loop with Surrey Lane, enclosing the residents within a circular block of tall, arching oak trees distinguishing the road from others. The site is defined by the presence of these trees as well as by multi-colored, architecturally varied houses which snake around the loop. Just north of Tall Oaks Dr. lies Ryders Lane, one of the major routes that cuts through East Brunswick, New Jersey, which functionally connects the northern and southern neighboring towns of Old Bridge and New Brunswick. The shape of Tall Oaks Dr. is a curve; it moves in a snaking pattern. Past Surrey Ln., Tall Oaks Dr. extends in a relatively straight line, to the larger, busier Fern Road that leads into southern East Brunswick. For the purpose of this documentation, I will refer to the southern section of the Colonial Oaks neighborhood (Tall Oaks Dr., Surrey Ln., Dogwood Ct., and Darby Ln.) as Tall Oaks.

As a residential site, Tall Oaks houses a sleepy, concealed neighborhood. The houses that populate the street range in architecture, size, and feature as well as vary in respect to modern renovations or additions. Common architectural styles include split-level, bi-level, ranch, and colonial, with most of these homes built between the 50s and 70s. Primarily flat, the first half of the street occupies more of an incline than the latter. The experience of walking the site is non-strenuous and relaxed. The street meanders gently and calmly without any quick turns, sharp inclines, or declines. The terrain is indicative of characteristic suburbia: smooth manicured lawns, fences separating neighboring properties, telephone poles and wires creating a maze of black and brown above, and tall trees decorating the side of the street in parallel lines. There is no natural body of water near Tall Oaks besides a small brook, Ireland Brook, that runs perpendicular to Warwick Lane.

The use of this site is primarily, if not entirely, residential, largely pertaining to family (driving home from school, work, or the supermarket) or home (maintenance, yard work). There are a few businesses run out of homes or garages along the street, one of these belonging to my neighbor. He operates a mechanic business out of his garage and his garage door is open long into the night as families drop off or pick up their cars on his driveway.

The population of Tall Oaks has changed drastically from when I was younger, particularly within the past five years. The larger neighborhood of Colonial Oaks is near an Orthodox synagogue, Young Israel. Because of Shabbat observation, Orthodox Jews must avoid certain forms of work on Fridays and Saturdays, which includes driving. Tall Oaks was long populated by Orthodox families who needed to walk to synagogue and was, almost exclusively, white. Within the past five years, however, older families have moved away or into retirement homes, leaving room for many young families or couples, many of them Latine, Black, Eastern Asian, South East Asian, and Egyptian.

Observations: Groups, Daily Happenings

Compared to other neighborhoods in East Brunswick, Tall Oaks was and still is relatively quiet. Only within the past four years, at the onset of the pandemic, have families started utilizing the neighborhood as a playground: walks, jogs, explorations. The list goes on. During my time back at home during lockdown, I observed frequent family walks in the afternoon (between 1:00 and 2:00 p.m. on weekends) and in the evening (anywhere from 5:00 p.m. in the winter to 8:00 p.m. in the later spring during weekdays). Bicyclists, skateboarders, and rollerbladers populated the street on several sunny afternoons, usually between 1:00 and 3:00 p.m. Homeowners performing various types of property maintenance or work (mowing lawns, backyard updates/construction, gardening, landscaping, car-washing on the driveway) were visible anywhere from 9:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. as the summer approached. Individuals and families alike tended to walk their dogs between 8:00 a.m and 9:00 p.m. Socially distant neighbor gatherings (from respective driveways or front yards) ranged from 1:00 p.m. to 3:00 p.m. on weekends. And, as always, Orthodox families walked to and from synagogue on Fridays evenings and Saturday mornings or afternoons.

Having grown up on this street, I was never prompted, until the pandemic, to question why Tall Oaks is set up the way it is, how its landscape distinguishes it as a neighborhood, and what photography or intentional observation can elucidate about relationships, daily life, and existence in suburbia. Since 2020, I have slowed down, perceived, and analyzed, trying to make sense of the why—why things are the way they are and how the way things are informs the overall feel and interplay of the neighborhood as a whole. I have learned that suburbia, in particular, is an interesting and often isolating environment to be in, especially during a pandemic with lockdown measures in place. I have learned that suburbia is a formative place to grow up in, and even more pertinently, grow out of in many cases. But most surprisingly, I have learned that there are pockets of everything where you least expect them: collaboration, joy, intimacy, connection, normalcy. These features have rendered the site more like a “home” rather than a suburban landscape devoid of excitement or stimulation. These “small moment” scenes range anywhere from parents teaching their children how to ride bikes, to elderly neighbors dancing on the driveway, to an elderly father and son sitting next to each other outside in the sunshine, to young adults dancing to music with headphones in (admittedly, me), to neighbors talking to each other over fences, across streets, and from cars. This is where the living happens.

Observations: Light During Lockdown

February 21, 2021 – Morning
Light comes through the blinds in streams, waking up the room in tandem with the world. Once the light reaches a certain “volume,” sleep is no longer available.

February 23, 2021 – Afternoon
Light casts branchlike shadows on the planked fronts of houses, tattooing them as the sun glints off adjacent windows. It is warm and delicate, made gentler by the surrounding snow.

February 27, 2021 – Evening
Light diffuses into an encompassing blue, the type of blue that seems characteristic of winter itself. Orange street lights warm the streetscape while everything cools downward.

March 2, 2021 – Morning
Light falls onto the carpet, segmented and obscured by the unopened blinds. It is warm and vibrant—spring is coming.

April 3, 2021 – Morning
Light grazes across the grooves of grass, alternating between shadow and direct contact. It is visceral but pleasant.

July 1, 2021 – Evening
Golden light brings contentment. All is well in July.

Neighbors: A Case Study

Ted and Annie
When I think about my neighbors, I think of Ted and Annie. Their daughter lives in Maryland and visits once in a while. I could always tell she was there when a red car was out front. Ted and Annie have a beautiful garden, which Ted tends to religiously. Ted was (and still is) outside often in the spring and summer, but I rarely see Annie outside of her occasional errands. Whenever I go on daily walks, I wave to Ted and he waves back. They still live in their white bi-level with a beautiful, front yard cherry blossom in the spring. I wonder how many neighborhood transitions they have witnessed. I wonder what they thought of the family of four (soon to be five) who moved in next door.

Lonnie
Lonnie moved to Arizona when I was six (seven, eight?) and I don’t remember much of her. I remember her house, which is still there and virtually the same, except now it’s home to the family of someone with whom I went to middle school. Lonnie seemed like an Arizonian woman from the start, or at least I’m influenced by where she ended up. From what I remember, she had short, brown, spiky hair and glasses. The house itself was straight out of the 70s—warm browns and brick, beige paneling, white door. She visited and stopped by our house a few years after her move and my Mom went out to say hi.

Red
Red lives across the street from us in a cream two-story house with light blue shutters. She’s a little older than my mom, perhaps somewhere in her mid-60s. In my early teenage years, she took down the towering bushes that flanked her house only to put up bamboo. And when it grew too tall and large, she cut that down to put in shrubs. I’ve always thought of her as the neighborhood watchwoman. She always knows what was going on, most notably at our house, and notified us multiple times of several key things: 1) that our gate was open and our dog could get out, 2) that our cable wires were on fire (yes, really), 3) that my brother’s drums were too loud and that they were bothering her, and lastly 4) that a large oak in our yard fell down on telephone wires. She also notified the police about a potential fire in another neighbor’s house, as she could see smoke emanating from the chimney. They weren’t home that week, she reasoned, so she had cause to worry. Red is often outside watering her bushes, bamboo, shrubs—always present and always watching. I wonder how she perceives the changes of the street being that, if I’m not mistaken, she grew up in that home.

Hugh and June (sons: Peter and Donnie)
I don’t quite know what to say about these two except that they are a feature of Dogwood Court more so than I think they realize. Hugh and June, especially during the pandemic, were always walking together. Holding hands, on their same route out toward Ryders Lane. Hugh would sport a technicolor, psychedelic hat of some sort, with June wearing a satchel draped across her chest. Their sons, Peter and Donnie, live at home. Peter’s car is bright red and is a neighborhood staple. He always waves at my Mom from the driver’s seat when she’s walking around the block. Donnie used to skateboard around the neighborhood. Before she passed away, my dog Ruby would bark at him as he passed by.

Mike and Dalilah
Mike and Dalilah moved into the “Arizona” house sometime in 2019-2020. Not Lonnie’s house, but another house on the block. A split-level that used to be painted a nice, desert orange and decorated with white rocks and little cacti. It has been repainted, by Mike and Dalilah, to a calm blue with black accents. Sometimes (most times), I miss the Arizona house and the warmth it offered in an often bleak New Jersey suburb. But I like that Mike and Dalilah made it their own. Mike and Dalilah were one of the first black families to live in the neighborhood.

Jerry and Gene
Jerry and Gene are my favorite inhabitants of Tall Oaks and perhaps the two I know the least about. They remind me of Boo Radley if only to say that I have only seen the two of them ten times in my twenty-three years. From what I’ve gathered, Gene (80 something) is Jerry’s (50 something) father. Jerry uses a wheelchair and sometimes sits by the front door as his caretaker enters and leaves. His smile is warm and welcoming—he seems like a wonderful man. Jerry and Gene live on the corner of Darby and Surrey, in a white house with periwinkle shutters. The house is shrouded in oak trees and bushes, ensconced in white during the winter and lush green in the summer. There’s a mystery to it that resembles the mystery of its inhabitants.

Kitté
Kitté is an orange tabby cat who lives at the very end of Tall Oaks, just before it merges with Fern. Admittedly, Kitté is a nickname given by me and my sister—we have never met his family and do not know his real name. He is, perhaps, the friendliest and most affectionate cat I have ever met. He spends his days outside no matter the season, but especially in the summer, during which he lays on the driveway in the sun. Nightly walks are not complete without a “hug” from Kitté.

Home

My favorite time of day to experience Tall Oaks is around sunset, when everything feels like it is falling asleep. In the winter, the blue sky is complemented by orange lamp posts, creating something I like to refer to as the “blue hour.” In the summer, the sunset brings about an incomparable golden hour. To me, Tall Oaks feels the most like a neighborhood at the cusp of nighttime—when orange kitchen lights are left on, bedroom windows are gently concealed by curtains, cars pull into driveways for the last time, and the street, in and of itself, is concealed by a certain sweetness: a gentleness. Here, the pockets of “living” reveal themselves. Here, the pockets of “living” during and in the wake of a pandemic are exceedingly visible. Loneliness, homecoming, family, humanity.
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Julia Sullivan is recent graduate of Smith College currently conducting virology research in St. Louis, Missouri. Their writing often explores the continuum between loss, religion, family dynamics, development, and individuation. In their free time, Julia enjoys going on long nighttime walks, having headphone dance parties, traveling, improvising while cooking, reading (preferably science fiction), watching movies, or going down Wikipedia rabbit holes. Their work has been featured on grainofsaltmag.com. You can find them on Medium @jrsullivan908.