The Shore

I now live in the Midwest. No one here says "I'm going to the shore" or "I was at the shore" for my vacation. If I mention that I'm going to the shore to a neighbor, they often ask, "Is that a new restaurant?"

In Jersey, if you said you were at the shore, everyone knew what you were talking about. You were down ON THE BEACH in SOUTH JERSEY, which meant one of a number of towns, Ocean City, Wildwood, Atlantic City (before the casinos), or Cape May. There were other towns between Atlantic City and Cape May (the southern end of the Jersey Shore), but mainly people went to the shore at the more populated areas.

My dad never had a car, which meant our family didn't have a car. If I didn't have such wonderful Uncles (both named Joe) I would not have gotten to the shore until I was a teenager and had friends that had "wheels". However, these wonderful uncles took our family (without my father) to the shore several times each summer.

Back then it was almost a two hour drive to get from Runnemede to Ocean City or Whale Beach, our favorite haunts. After the Atlantic City Expressway was built, it put the travel time down to 45 minutes, an hour at the most, mainly because you didn't go through every town along THE PIKE, and the speed limit on the Expressway was at that time 60 MPH, whereas, the highest speed on THE PIKE was 45 MPH, and slower in the towns, of which there were many.

Several folks who attended our church had homes in Whale Beach (just south of Ocean City) so we often went there, because they were kind enough to let us use their beach (and bathrooms). Until the big storm in the early 1960s that washed Whale Beach off the map -- I mean it literally washed away every home on that narrow spit of land between the bay and the ocean -- Whale Beach was our shore of choice. Ocean City was our second choice.

I think my Aunt Anne liked Ocean City better, so when Uncle Joe (her husband, my mom's brother-in-law) took us we went to Ocean City. When my other Uncle Joe (my mom's brother) took us, he just went where we wanted to go.

Now picture this: Uncle Joe Sbaraglia (my mom's brother) did NOT have a station wagon, yet he loaded me, my sister, my younger brother, my mom, and his two children into the car and off we went. A bit crowded, but it was fun.

Mom always packed the lunch. Most days she packed sandwiches, which became SANDwiches, meaning, there was more SAND than sandwich, because invariably at lunch time a strong on-shore breeze would come up, and blow sand into our lunches. We didn't care. We would have gone without, because we knew that for dinner we were going to the Boardwalk. Not the one in Atlantic City, the one in Ocean City.

No matter which "shore" we spent the day at, in the evening we went to the Boardwalk in Ocean City. You know why? Because Johnson's popcorn was there, and they had the best, best, best popcorn in the world. Just plain popcorn, but loaded with butter! That's what made it so good. And, then, of course, we bought a box of salt water taffy for my dad, who kindly shared it sparingly with his children.

I don't mean to imply that we spent a lot of days at the shore, probably three per summer, until I was a teenager and was able to find rides from friends. But those few days per summer were our vacation and we loved them (and the days with our Uncle Joes).

When my husband, Alan, and I were going together, before we were married and moved away, we spend as many days at the shore as we could in the summer time. Hey, it was a cheap date. All I had to do was pack a lunch, gas was at most 30 cents a gallon, and off we went. It didn't cost anything to park in Ocean City at that time, and the beach was free. Is it still free? I don't know. The last time I was in Ocean City was three or four years ago, and I don't recall if we paid to get on the beach, but I know we did pay to park.

Sometimes I get a yen to go to the shore, but the drive is too long -- 675 miles from here -- so I stay home and dream.