I grew up at the shore.  No, not some white sandy beach with shingled homes and wind swept dunes.  No fresh flags or lighthouses flickering off in the distance.  No isolated stretches where it’s just you on the beach feeling the enormity of the world and your place in the cosmos. 

No way. I spent my summers at the Jersey shore.

The Jersey shore is all about crowded boardways, tacky amusement parks, Tiki bars on the beach, Springsteen blasting on load speakers over the beach, low flying flags advertising bands at the local dives. It’s cheap prizes on the boardway and cheese fries in the shade.  Raw oyster shacks.  A quarter on Mom, Dad or Sis to win a Van Halen mirror.  One more nickel and all those coins will fall for sure.  Donuts for breakfast and taffy for brunch.

It’s a three ring circus and heaven for people with short attention spans and a high tolerance for the flash and the buzz.

Mo pictures of heaven below the flap:

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