12 posts tagged “new jersey”
For months leading up, the Beloved would ask me, “What are your family traditions for being at the beach?” And I would tell her that we had zero experience with spending a week together at the beach as a family (PLENTY of experience with day-trips) but very little in extended stays. In some ways, we were going to have to establish our own.
We got to the East Coast with very little problem in which we stocked up for supplies and had a birthday dinner for me at my favorite cheesesteak place in NJ and took a leisurely drive on Saturday to Sea Isle City, where we convened with my brother, his family and my sister to begin Down The Shore—2009.
I hadn’t been to Sea Isle probably since I was 17 and I thought it looked great. Our house was a stone’s throw from the beach and really comfortable – and it’s clock set the correct tone for the vacation.
Our days were pretty easy… we’d all trundle out of bed for a slow wake-up with coffee, cereal and the paper. By 10 or so, the first wave of folks would head down to the beach. I would tend to stay back on the deck under the umbrella, choosing not to expose my pale, SPF70 slathered skin to the sun and surf until after 2 pm. We’d hang on the beach, watch the waves, seagulls and people, go for a swim and head back for happy hour and dinner. (As you might have guessed, I was in charge of happy hour… ). It was all very civilized. We ate out a couple of nights, walked the promendade, played games. It was great.
One day, the fam went up to Atlantic City to see an airshow – and while I love my family dearly, standing out in the sun for 5+ hours was not a choice I was willing to make. As an alternative, the Beloved and I took a tour of the other southern shore towns – Avalon, Stone Harbor, Wildwood and Cape May. It was a great trip and highlighted how different each of the towns were.
One of the reasons for the trip was so that the Beloved could see Wildwood – probably the last remnant of “tacky boardwalk” left in The Garden State. I’d last been there after graduating high school – some friends and I rented a house for a week. There were still lots of crappy t-shirt shops and amusement piers and tram cars.
At last, the week was at an end (how quickly it goes by) and we all bought souvenir shirts and gathered on the slightly-Bill-touched beach to say our farewells.
When I was growing up, we had a summer family tradition – no tradition isn’t quite the right word – "ritual" seems more correct. Every (and I mean damn near every) Sunday during the summer, we would pack up the family and head “down the shore”.
Specifically, we would drive down and visit my grandmother at her summer house and then head over to Cape May for several hours of beach time. We’d then head back, get cleaned up, all go out to dinner (to the same restaurant) and then head home – often arriving back to the Ancestral Betz Home after 10 pm. Did I mention that my father worked six days a week and that Sunday was his only “day off”? Wow.
Now Dad liked to drive and since we were going to take all of Sunday, he liked to take the back roads down to The Villas. (The Villas -- where my grandmother's house was -- is a small town on the bay-side, just a few miles from Cape May, which is on the ocean side…). We would stop at road-side produce stands (New Jersey is afterall the Garden State, you know) and pick up tomatoes and peaches for Nan and ourselves. When I was about 12, Nan sold the Villas house, my brother married, my sis moved out of the house, and the ritual stopped.
So, while we were home and visiting my brother and his family, we decided to re-visit the family tradition. So that Sunday morning, we packed up the family and headed down the shore – I even convinced my brother to attempt to find the backroads that Dad had so consistently kept to.
It was great fun. We only got turned around the wrong way once (ok, maybe twice…) and we made it to the Villas in what we thought was surprisingly good time. We went to see where Nan’s house had been (sadly re-sided in icky blue vinyl and the lot where I remember playing sub-divided), and went the few blocks down to the bay – an area that had seen better days.
After that, we were off to the beach (with me covered by both sunscreen and umbrella). The lifeguards weren’t very busy as the water temp was abnormally cold, but we hung out for a while enjoying the sights and salt air, and the Beloved and I took a walk, watching kids play in the sand (just like when I was a kid…) and even New Jersey surfers (never there when I was a kid…), until a late thunderstorm sent everyone scurrying for their cars.
We had a great seafood dinner (sadly the family ritual restaurant was no more), and got ice cream, and headed back. It was a really great day full of old and new memories.
I think Dad would have approved.
Alright – we’re off (very early tomorrow morning) for our summer family tour! We’re heading back to the East Coast for almost two weeks. The main reason to go is for the Beloved’s folks’ 50th wedding anniversary – we’re meeting them at one of their favorite places on the “Northern Neck” of Virginia on the Chesapeake Bay. Should be fun – that’s a part of the Bay I’ve never seen before.
Before that though, we’ve scheduled a brief visit with my brother in NJ and a longer one with my sister in MD (I still haven’t seen her new place that she moved into last Spring, mostly because I didn’t go back for Christmas/New Year’s last year…). And, of course, we’re going to cram in as many visits with friends as we can get. Should be hectic (and a lot of driving…), but we want to make the most of it.
We’ll probably have pretty spotty internet contact, so don’t drop me from your neighborhoods because I’m not commenting or posting, or force-quit our scrabulous games because they’ve gone “inactive”.
See you in a couple of weeks!
I had a whole idea for Me & My Monday, but of course I forgot my camera today. So, instead of that, I offer a rare movie review. The Beloved and I realized the other day that we don’t go out to see movies all that often. Apparently, we prefer staying in our own backyard and having happy hour to the maddening crowds.
This weekend though, we were both interested and excited to see the latest release from Pixar, WALL-E. This movie is remarkable. Of course it is replete with the mind boggling animation (can we call it animation anymore?) that looks more real than most over-FX’d movies that include actual people that we expect from Pixar, but its so much more than eye-candy. To me, this one is near that "Finding Nemo" pinnacle.
WALL-E tells the story of an industrious trash-picking-up robot (who's developed a few idiosyncrasies) that works in New Jersey on an apocalyptic future Earth that humans have fled because of trash and pollution (but it was probably based on the stretch of the NJ Turnpike from say, exits 9 through 16). Perhaps the most remarkable thing about the movie is that essentially has no dialog. The robot stars are anthropomorphized for sure, but this is the best example of visual story telling I’ve seen since Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s episode “Hush” – without the creepy evil or sexual innuendo.
I won’t give away the plot or resolution (they pulled one punch that would have really made this movie transcend all family fare, but I can’t nit-pick their choices…), but as with Pixar stories they wrap the Big Themes around very small personal stories, and this is no different. There are also enough inside jokes to keep adults happy.
This one sure was.
Which person from your past, who you've lost touch with, do you wonder about the most?
Submitted by ancora impara.
I thought this was a very thought-provoking question – pretty fitting because ancora-impara often has posts that make me think.
I’ve gotten old enough and lived in enough places that there have been scores of people that have moved in and out of my life. In moving so often (college, grad school, post-doc, various jobs), you realize that when you leave a place that many relationships don’t really transfer to the new locale. I’ve come to accept that. Still, there are usually a couple of folks that stay with you from each era.
There are a number of ex-girlfriends from the grad-school days that I’d like the opportunity to apologize to (I didn’t always prioritize treating people respectfully, I think) – but I don’t really “wonder” how they are doing – so I don’t think that applies to the question.
The person that I think of most and wonder where life how they’ve ended up, was one of my first teen-age friends, Jim. We went to the same grade school and became fast friends around 5th grade. We attended the same church, figured out how to drink (often the hard way), and generally spent our teen years pushing authority (both parental and legal) together. I had recounted one of my favorite stories of us not too long ago.
After high school, we attended different colleges, but still got together when we would come home. Jim steered towards a more-partying lifestyle about the time I was steering away from one, and we lost most of the commonality between us. Around our junior year, his family relocated down to Southern New Jersey (which seemed SO FAR away at the time, and now seems absurdly close) and that effectively put the end to our friendship.
Having left the Delaware Valley early in my career, I never went back to any high school reunions, though if I knew he would be at one, I might fly back across the country just to hear his story. I’d hope he’d want to hear mine.
After being competitive but fairly convincingly beaten by the Washington Redskins for the first three quarters, the Philadelphia Eagles erupted for 20 4th quarter points, stunning the Redskins (and me) by holding on for a 33-25 win at RFK Stadium – sorry at whatever stadium they play at – I will always think of the Redskins playing at RFK.
Anyway, the Eagles seemed to be following the script that had gotten them to a 3-5 record – play o-kay, but not great. The Redskins were moving the ball very effectively and seemed in control early in the 4th, leading 22-13.
After exchanging potentially game changing fumbles near midfield with the score 22-20, the game really changed when the Redskins had (I think) 17 plays from inside the Eagles 10 yard line, but ended up having to settle for a FG. Donovan McNabb, who threw 4 TDs for the first time in a while, dumped off a beautifully executed screen to Brian Westbrook (if he’s not the team MVP, no one is) who scampered ~60 yards for a TD.
Jason Campbell – who played pretty well all day fumbled during the ensuing drive, and Westbrook waltzed through a massive hole in the Skins shocked defense to score again. Crazy. I felt almost sad for my Redskins-rooting friends (most notably Grandma-P... :) ) but not really that much. So there they are at 4-5 with the anemic Dolphins coming to town. Maybe all the calls for Donovan’s and Andy’s heads were what they needed to remake this team.
Similarly, another remake is going to be shown on TV tonight on Extreme Makeover Home Edition. Honestly, I’ve never seen the show, but this week they’re going to my hometown of Camden, New Jersey and rebuilding a house for a single-father (of 5 I think) – and get this – the house is about a block and a half from the Ancestral Betz Home. So, if you wanna see where I grew up, give it a watch.
So Mello had a really good post the other day about kids (notably boys) getting scrapes and bruises from playing out in the street, and I left a comment where Janie was asking for more of a story bit I told that definitely gave my mom grey hairs.
Well, I grew up in Camden, New Jersey. It’s not a lovely place – often vying for Most Dangerous City in America. Lotsa crime. Lotsa drugs. Yeah, but it was home and we didn’t really know any different. As a kid, I played sports with all my friends in the neighborhood and because it was all we had, we played in the street (the parks were where the gangs and drug-folks hung out, sooo... no). Street football, street hockey, waffle ball, wire ball. Mostly football. Two-hand touch (that would occasionally escalate into two-hand push-down pseudo-tackle-but-act-innocent-before-you-laugh…).
The first time I got hit by a car, I was about 10 or 11 years old and my friends and I were playing street football. Now playing in the street comes with inherent risks. The street is hard. There are cars – both parked and moving. When a car would come down our street, play would stop, everyone would move to the side and we’d have a “do-over”. Well, one time, we didn’t notice this station wagon that came around the corner. We kept playing. I cut from the curb towards the center of the street. I was open. I caught the ball. Screeeeeeech –whap! Did. Not. Drop. The. Ball. I’m just sayin’.
The worst part of this was that my mom was in our kitchen idly watching us play and she witnessed the entire thing. The darting out in front of an oncoming car. The slamming of breaks. Car hitting child, child hitting asphalt. By the time my mom raced downstairs, the driver (a nurse) was worrying over me and apologizing (like she did something wrong!) and I was groggily getting to my feet. I had some pretty good bruising for weeks. They faded. The grey hairs that day stayed.
Janie tasked me with coming up with 10 things that most people don’t know about me. I had made a similar attempt at something similar a while back, but I’m game, so lets see…
- Like Janie, I share the same middle name with one of my siblings. Though its not Lyn. Its Francis. It was my dad’s first name. And he had HIS dad’s first name as a middle name. Must be a Betz-thing.
2. I once sang “Country Roads Take Me Home” doing karaoke during a business trip to Japan.
3. At a grade school recital rehearsal (I think it was 3rd grade), I was stung by a bee, passed out, fell off the riser I was on, falling onto the stage floor. This prompted Ephraim Nieves to shout, “O my God, he’s DEAD!”
4. I once drove from Chapel Hill, NC to Camden NJ and never once used my turn signal. (It was a Jersey-driver test of honor sort of thing)
5. Eight states left! Based on Cori’s post the other day, I looked into World66 and was surprised when I input the states that I have been to. I know I was in Oregon during a family trip when I was a tyke, but I don’t really remember it, so I didn’t think I should count it.
6. My brother gave me my first driving lesson in his slick 1977 Monte Carlo (it had a landau roof -- classy). The first thing I did was drive up onto the curb and nearly into a telephone pole. My dad completed my driver’s education.
7. I participated in high school musicals. The photos from my senior year performance in “Pippin” are ashes.
8. I interviewed for a position at DuPont after I earned my PhD with the one of the biggest hangovers of my life (my old college roommate lived about a block from the hotel I stayed at – we stayed up drinking). During the seminar portion of the talk, I couldn’t get nervous, b/c I was so focused on staying coherent. I aced it and got the position.
9. In grad school (and at various places since), my nickname was “Bubba”. A good percentage of people that know me, still use that as their primary way to address me.
10. The first movie I can ever remember going to see (I think I was ~5 yo) was Disney’s “Song of the South” -- apparently I went around singing Zipidee-doo-dah for weeks.
Open tagging-season for all that would like to participate!
Greywolf made me aware of a vox page for Friday5, which I don’t think is meant to be confused with sdede2’s occasional series "Five Things Friday". But, I bet you get the idea, and I’m rambling…
The theme this week was about running late, and one question was: "Have you ever been pulled over, or gotten trouble because you were in a hurry?"
And it made me rememember a story from my high school years that just seemed worth sharing.
The Scene: The very wee hours of a Sunday morning in the neighborhoods between Pennsauken and Camden, New Jersey. Two friends of mine (we’ll call them Jim and Dave – not to protect the innocent (for surely they weren't) but because those are their names) and I have attended a cast-party for our high school production of “Pippin” – they were stage-hands and I was in it. And no, there are no photos of that. They are all ashes. All ashes, I say.
Anyway, Jim is driving us back in his wreck of a 1973 Chevy Nova and is freaking because we’re out WAY past curfew, and his Dad was the ultimate authority figure of my youth – 6’3” ex-Marine and a deacon in our church. He was God, country and parent all wrapped up in one.
We drop Dave off and are heading back home. The streets were empty and so we decide to run a traffic light (which may seem dumb in the clarity of adulthood (or sobriety) --- will 45 extra seconds make a difference if you’re 2 hours late?? Well, we’d had some drinks at the cast-party and it seemed like a good idea at the time…).
The Event: We get about about a block when no less than THREE police cars converge on us, lights flashing and spotlights blazing. Clearly, they noticed that we sort of ran the light. Jim and I exchange “This is it” glances. We’re out too late, we’re tipsy, we’re underage.
The Dialog: (we step from the car – oh the interior lights of Jim’s PoC Nova don’t work, so even with the doors open, the car is dark).
Jim: Evening officer…
The Man: It’s morning, son.
Jim: Yes, sir.The Man: You realize you ran that light?
Jim: Yes, sir. We’re just late and trying to get home as soon as possible.The Man: Uh-huh…you boys been drinking?
Jim and Steve (with probably a little too much zeal): No, officer!The Man: <indicating the mess of blankets and junk in the back seat> You sure you don’t have any booze in that car?
Jim: No, officer.
The Man: Mind if we take a look?
<The police officer rummages around in the back seat and comes out with a copy of “Guns and Ammo” magazine – I hate guns, but Jim was into them as a teen>
The Man: This your magazine, son?
Jim: Yes, sir, it is.The Man: <rolls the magazine into a tube and swats Jim on the shoulders with it> Good American, now get the hell home!
Completely true. Honest to God.
What is your favorite greasy spoon?
Submitted by S@ngarang.
I tend not to eat in too many "greasy spoons" -- but thinking back -- growing up in New Jersey, it was DINERS. You could get anything -- morning, noon, or night and stood a very good chance of being called "Hon' " by a waitress in a hairnet. The ones I went to though were more like family restaurants. In fact, there's no reason whatsoever to go to eat at a national chain restaurant (e.g. Chili's, Applebees...) when every town had several independent establishments. In fact, you could always find heated debate over what was "the best diner" as people and family's had their allegiances. Our family was (still is actually) loyal to The Penn Queen Diner on Route 130 in Pennsauken NJ. Whenever I go back, you can always find me there at least once.
Here in California, there really isn't diner culture. But for me, my favorite "guilty" meal is a giant food fest of a double burger, fried onion rings and chocolate malt at Hodad's in the Ocean Beach section of San Diego.
The inside is decidely "beach grungy" -- apparently no shirt and no shoes is no problem. Typically you're waited on by 20-ish folks with a lot piercings and a fair amount of ink. The inside is lined with license plates from all over and various surfing accoutrements.
The burgers are big with generous add-ons --- lotsa lettuce, big slices of tomatoes and onions. The fries are thick and good, but I always go for the onion rings, which are always really hot and crispy with thick cuts of onions. Its a good thing that OB is a ways away from where I live, because I figger that one of those meals (including the big-thick real ice cream malt) is likely ~2000 calories, so its usually about a once every three month treat.
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