Down the Shore

The title of this post is a colloquialism used by many New Jersey and Pennsylvania residents.  Most of us don't go "to the beach" or "to the shore" or even "to the ocean."  We go "down the shore."  (We do not go "down to the shore.")  Even our local news stations feature segments about "Down the Shore."  Poor grammar or not, we claim it proudly, apparently.

I was down the shore last week.  I spent the week in Long Beach Island, which is affectionately referred by those who know it as LBI.  LBI is north of Atlantic City and south of Seaside and Seaside Heights.  (The latter, of course, has recent, unfortunate fame because of TV's Jersey Shore.  For the record, I never have - and never will - watch that show.) 

LBI is a special place.  I spent numerous summers there in a house that was torn down a few years ago.  I've had bad dreams about and shed tears over that house.  It possessed the spirit of a grandfather I never knew but I felt I somehow knew him by being there.  Of course, there are plenty of good memories from that house, too. 

I will always identify summer with LBI and its borough of Ship Bottom.  I took my nephew into a hobby shop there that I visited as a child.  The lady told me the shop has been in business 38 years.  I had a feeling of warmth and happiness when I was recently in it.  It was a reminder of easiness, innocence, and easily fulfilled desires.

LBI is 18-miles long and .25 - .5 miles wide.  It has many towns and boroughs and this past week was spent in Brant Beach.  (I learned Brant Beach was the first community on the island that offered electricity to its residents.)  The house was on the bay and we had some great sunsets.

There's so much more to write about LBI, its proximity to the Pine Barrens, and so on.  But I'm tired and just can't put into words all there is to say about this place that means so much to me.  I'm just happy it's close enough that I can get there relatively easily when I want to go "down the shore."