After reading Abby Meth Kanter’s Exit Ramp (“Denied Memories,” April 2), the bell that rang in my head was related to her Passaic references. Like Meth Kanter, I also grew up in Passaic, where the Jewish community was a tightly knit enclave.
Parents and grandparents easily identified Jewish names and made connections to their families. For one small suburban town, Passaic claimed three hospitals and more than five shuls.
One could hop on a Route 3 bus and make it to “the city” in about 20 minutes. We grew up in real suburban neighborhoods, with young families and plenty of kids our age. We played kickball in the street, hopscotch on the sidewalks, and created Broadway productions in our backyard. That’s what memories were made of in Jewish Passaic back in the ’50s and ’60s.
Debbie Fields Littman