Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

Jersey Shore

The surprising word that sums up our vacation

I remember the year everything about vacation changed.

It was sometime in those middle school years, I think, and my parents took us on a trip to Florida they or someone in our family had won through some kind of promotion. And of course, there was a catch. The kind where you go on the trip in exchange for sitting through an hour-long promotion from an agency that sells condos. (We did this on our honeymoon to score some gas cards and a restaurant gift card. It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever done, but it also wasn’t pleasant.) My parents sat and listened to the man and his sales pitch while my brother and I did whatever we could to entertain ourselves. I remember they told my parents afterward how well-behaved we were. Maybe that was part of the pitch.

Our family walked away from the meeting that day the proud new owners of a time-share condo in Daytona Beach. I secretly thought my parents might be crazy, but I was a kid, so what did I know?

From then on, our vacation destination was set: Daytona Beach, Florida. Or, if it wasn’t too much trouble, somewhere else we could exchange our week. One year, it was Arizona. (The aforementioned honeymoon was in Williamsburg, Virginia, and is thanks to that time share week, so I guess I better not complain!)

The beach. Most summers we drove for two days to spend time at the beach.

And what I remember most about those summers is ridiculously painful sunburn (the fate of the fair-skinned) and overwhelming feelings of inadequacy about my body (the fate of the non-bikini-clad, at least that’s what I thought then). I was never a partier, so a week at the beach was not the raucous good time I’m sure some of my peers might have envisioned. In truth, I was happy to sit on the balcony of the condo (in the shade) and read book after book after book. But that was how I would have spent my summer no matter where I was. The view was just a little better in Florida.

Two years ago, our little family of four got to go to Daytona together with my parents, and that trip redeemed most of my so-so memories of Florida vacations.

But I still had my reservations about the beach. We are reluctant acquaintances.

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Months ago, our friends posed the question: What would we think about taking a vacation to the beach with their family?

We’ve lived in Pennsylvania for six years and the “shore” has been on our list of things we wanted to do, just to experience what so many of our friends and acquaintances know and love. But we didn’t know where to begin or if we could go for the day, and frankly, we’ve never had the money or time to do it. Our friends go to Cape May, New Jersey, and they stay in the same house each time, and we’ve heard wonderful things about that area. So, this seemed the perfect opportunity.

Still, I was hesitant.

I’m not really a beach person, I told my friend, who is the complete opposite. She could live on the beach and be happy the rest of her days (and I love her for that). But we kept talking about it and because we love this family so much and their kids and our kids are friends, we agreed to look into and consider the costs and availability.

Long story, shorter, we booked a week in a house in Cape May, New Jersey, and last week embarked on our first-ever vacation with another family to the beach.

In the week leading up to vacation, I was super stressed out. Our kids had been back from Illinois only a few days before our beach week was to begin, and I hate packing. Plus, our travel was going to be split up. The moms and kids were going on Saturday and the dads would follow on Sunday. So, I had to segregate the packed belongings into Saturday and Sunday piles. It was overwhelming. 20140719_103529

By the time I got in my friend’s van on Saturday, I was ready for some R&R. Except that we had five kids between the two of us and more than three hours of driving ahead of us. R&R was maybe a far-fetched dream.

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Traffic snarled and crawled as we drew closer to the beach. The miles ticked down on the GPS and time seemed to stand still. Then finally–FINALLY–we were at the house and out of the car and unpacking our meager belongings (the second wave of provisions would arrive Sunday night with the men). And we could hardly wait another minute to see the ocean. So, we piled back into the van and drove out to the park where the lighthouse stands. We raced over the dunes, spread our arms wide and exhaled.

IMG_20140719_175613With a breezy welcome, the ocean crashed its greeting onto the shore. We cast off our shoes and let the sand fill the gaps between our toes. The ocean teased us with its gentle lapping, and we let the cool waters wash our feet. It was a foretaste of the week to come, just enough to remind us that we had made it. We walked the shore, the kids running off their dormant energy, collecting shells, until our feet couldn’t take any more. We bid the ocean “good night” then searched for a pizza place to satisfy our hunger.

We woke the next day with plans to hit the beach for real and after a Herculean effort to wrangle five kids into swimwear and pack a lunch, we made it to the beach and the children frolicked while we soaked up sun and let the rhythmic ocean waves soothe our weary souls. (But lest I forget, the wind was fierce that day and the sand was stinging us. We may look relaxed in our pictures but we were fighting for our happy place.)

It is not easy getting to the beach, but once you’re there, it’s worth it. Each day we were at the beach, I felt like time stood still.

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After dinner, we walked the promenade and stumbled upon a wedding taking place on the beach. As my friend, Beth, so eloquently observed:

We (2 exhausted mammas and 5 full of energy children) walk the mile or so to the end of the promenade-where ocean meets rocky shore-where a wedding party forms. Bridesmaids clothed in teal, hairspryed hair withstanding wind. Groom wringing his hands. A bridal white horse drawn carriage rolls to a halt. The girl children-busily imagining their weddings 20 years the making-“Ohhhh and Ahhh” as they see her, the Princess bride. As we all are taken by the magic of the moment-of the majestic ocean and mystery of love-the horse, adorned with braided hair and roses, urninates while all five of our kiddos loudly observe, “Ewww He’s peeing.”

Our men arrived later that night to find their wives barely hanging onto sanity. They’d never been more heroic in our eyes.

We had literally already been to the nut house.

We had literally already been to the nut house.

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The week was full of surprises. Perhaps the most surprising was this: I actually had a good time. And by that I mean I would do it all again tomorrow. All the packing, all the driving, all the washing sand out of everything, all the protecting our lunches from seagulls, all the sunscreen, all the lotion, all the walking and sweating and cooking and cleaning.

It’s not that I expected to have a horrible time. I knew it would be fun because our friends are fun and seeing new places is fun and being together as a family is fun. I just didn’t expect to have so much fun I’m actually missing it today. Me? Missing the beach? Who’d have thought?

I had hoped to write a post listing all my favorite things about our trip or recounting all the best moments, but the truth is, I can’t choose favorite moments because there are too many. Each day was special for lots of reasons and to single out a best moment is too hard. (Plus, I don’t want you to hate me for having a fabulous beach vacation. Trust me, it’s a rarity for our family. We do not live glamorous lives all the time. Case in point, this blog post.)

So, how would I sum up our vacation? You’ve read this far, so I owe you a word, and that word is the word that I’ve been meditating on all year long.

Enjoy.

From the splashing in the water to the digging our toes in the sand to the climbing the lighthouse steps to the date night with tasty seafood to the shared meals around the kitchen table to the late-night talks to the overall ambiance of this historical seaside resort, I enjoyed our vacation. (And if you need to know why it’s so hard for me to enjoy life, read this post.)

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So, here’s my question for you: When’s the last time you were surprised by how much you enjoyed something? Care to share your story? Leave a comment so we can enjoy together.

There’s more to Jersey than the ‘Shore’

New Jersey. The Garden State. Every time I see this slogan on a license plate, I think of Sandra Bullock in “Miss Congeniality,” when asked a sample question about her home state, “Why is New Jersey called the Garden State?” answering “Because ‘Oil and Petrochemical Refinery State’ wouldn’t fit on a license plate?” That, and SNL’s Governor Patterson sneering when he says the words “New Jersey.” Oh, yeah, and “Jersey Shore.” Never seen an episode. Don’t have to. Snookie makes enough news that I don’t need to watch.

Before Friday, I had never been to New Jersey. The only reason my family and I found ourselves traveling through the Garden State was because access to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty seemed easier for us, coming from Pennsylvania, than to drive into New York City. So I was surprised by a number of positive and curious points of our trip.

Curious point No. 1: It turns out these two national monuments are at least partly part of New Jersey. My husband was alerted to this when he saw that the Statue of Liberty was going to be on a New Jersey coin (quarter? dollar? I can’t remember.). All this time, when I heard Statue of Liberty, I thought New York. Not so. Not so. And according to a native New Jerseyan I know, getting to the statue is nicer from the Jersey side. At right is a picture of the old train and ferry station that now is used for ferry tickets and boarding. Pretty neat.

It certainly was easy to get there from the Jersey side. And I must say, the view of the New York City skyline was striking. Like, all of a sudden, it was there and I didn’t realize it. And I didn’t think it would be as close as it was. We considered for a moment taking the Holland Tunnel into the city just so we could be IN New York City but time didn’t allow. Phil and I desperately want to go to New York. We love cities and being from near Chicago, we have to check out the “competition.” (Your pizza will never beat our pizza, though. Sorry. It’s true.)

We picnic lunched in the park before lining up to board our ferry. Before boarding our ferry, we had to succumb to an airport-style security screening. Fact: I have not flown on an airplane since 9/11. Fact: Security screenings sort of scare me. I was holding Corban. I had to remove his hat and lower his hood. (Warning: Rant. I don’t even want to think about the kind of people who would use their kids to smuggle stuff illegally. OK. I’m done.) My dad had to take his boots off. My mom lost a pair of fingernail scissors to the Great Beyond of Illicit Carry-Ons. Phil had to take his belt off. I quote: “If I wasn’t losing weight, I wouldn’t even be wearing a belt.” Losing weight is good. Having to take your belt off in a room full of people waiting to board a ferry, not so much.

So much excitement and we hadn’t even left New Jersey yet! We bundled up and boarded the ferry, choosing to ride in the open, even in the cool air because the views were unbelievable. As you can see, Corban is all set, having survived the screening just fine.

 We had checked the map on the way in and I was certain we’d be able to see the Brooklyn Bridge. Another fact: Phil is obsessed with the Brooklyn Bridge since reading a book about its construction a few summers ago. So I took a bazillion pictures of it, most of which looked like this:

Minus the seagull, of course. I could tell you I did this on purpose, but it was a surprise to me when I viewed the photos this week.

A short ferry ride and we arrived at Ellis Island. This was our boat. Just kidding. Ours was much nicer.

I didn’t know what to expect going in. I don’t know if I have any ancestors who came through there. Phil’s great-grandparents came through Ellis Island from Germany. We knew that. Here’s what I can say about the experience: I was moved beyond words and inspired to read more about the island’s history. In the crowds of tourists, I could feel the confusion of being dropped into a place where you didn’t know what would happen. With the skylines of New York visible from the windows, I could feel a longing to be there. So close, yet still so far from your hopes and dreams. With my son wrapped on my husband’s back, I could identify with the women in photos with babies wrapped to their chests, carrying so much more than what they could fit in a trunk or a basket. And those trunks and baskets, holding everything important to them in the world. What would go in my trunk, my basket? We need a U-Haul and a truck to move all our stuff when we change locations.

There’s not a lot to see at Ellis Island, but I could see and feel the history in that place. Maybe it’s the connection with Phil’s family. The young couple in his family who arrived at Ellis Island from Germany are not related to me, but they are part of my children’s ancestry now. That excites me.

Isabelle fell asleep on Phil’s shoulders (he wasn’t wearing Corban at the time … he’s a great dad but even that would be asking too much and might be next to impossible). A brief nap before catching the next ferry to the Statue of Liberty. So long, Ellis Island.

The Statue of Liberty is such an icon for this country that I didn’t know how to respond to seeing it in person. Before we left the shore, I was giddy with excitement. I told Phil that I tended to geek out when seeing a famous landmark for the first time. In our three years of marriage we hadn’t had this experience yet. It reminded me a little of Paris when I was in college. Every time I saw the Eiffel Tower anywhere in the city, I took a picture. It was THE reason I wanted to go to Paris and it was the symbol of the city to me. I might have annoyed the friends who were traveling with me. Seeing Lady Liberty was a little like that. I peeked out a window at Ellis Island and saw the statue. Of course, I took a picture. When we actually arrived on the island, though, the statue was sort of a letdown. We didn’t have monument access, so we just walked around the island. How long can you look at a statue? I wondered. People-watching, though, could have gone on for hours. Do you know how frustrated people can get trying to get a group picture in front of the statue that includes the entire statue and no other people? It’s no easy feat. Here’s our offering:

Now that I look at the pictures, though, I’m pretty excited that we had the opportunity to see this landmark. Next goal: to set foot in New York City.

Our trip home offered more curious points of New Jersey. Like roundabouts and all turns from the right. And full-service gas stations. Apparently it’s illegal to pump your own gas in New Jersey. (I don’t think it’s actually illegal, but all the gas stations we saw were full serve.) My husband was surprised when a man approached the driver’s side window and asked for a credit card. He then pumped the gas and returned the card so we know it wasn’t a scam. My New Jersey friend said it’s to give people jobs. My dad theorized that it had something to do with drive-offs. Anyone else want to weigh-in?

We ate at a Perkins where the wait staff was entirely of an undetermined ethnicity. But we ordered enough entrée food to receive two free appetizers — more food than any of us could finish easily.

And I don’t know if this is a curious thing about New Jersey or Pennsylvania, but you don’t have to pay a toll to enter New Jersey from PA, but you do have to pay a toll to re-enter PA from NJ. Weird. Or smart. The jury’s still out.

All I know is we had a great day, tired though we were, and my opinion of New Jersey has improved. Maybe next visit we’ll actually check out the shore.