When I tell people here in Los Angeles that I’m from New Jersey, many of them immediately launch into a fond reminiscence of “The Sopranos,” a bad goombah accent, or some other upward nose-turning about the industrial wasteland they think I sprang forth from.

None of any of that has anything to do with where I grew up.  Mullica Township is a backwoods borough where some of the roads still aren’t paved, and where most of the commerce takes place at roadside produce stands. It has a culture all its own, and one in no way redolent of most assumptions about New Jersey.

Oh, and we have cockfighting. Ever see cockfighting on “The Sopranos”? I didn’t think so.

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