I’m a Jersey girl, and my life would not be the same without the Shore.
For a half-century, from Asbury to Cape May, I sunned more than I should, got wiped out by waves, kissed under the boardwalk, and watched my kids take their first steps in the sand. Sandy hurt places I love. Two weeks after the hurricane, sorrow is as palpable as the salt air. At the bridge to Seaside Heights, a mountain of splintered wood draws gasps. A handful of seagulls feast on spoiled meat, then die on the street. Occasionally, humor trumps disaster, as a sailboat glides by a roller coaster and patrolmen snap souvenir pictures of Snooki’s house.
And Shore spirit survives. In Union Beach, where 50 houses were obliterated, Wendy Johnson has filled her yard with donated clothing. “Please tell everybody to take this stuff,” she calls to her neighbors. “I think it’s going to rain!” -April Saul, Staff Photographer