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2015 Echoes of LBI Collector's Edition: Echoes of the Past

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This special edition of Echoes is a whopping 116 pages of some of your favorite stories, photos, poems, and essays from 2009 - 2012, as well as some new stories. Limited supply of hard copies available.
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Design Studio Inside Oskar Huber at 101 West 8th Street, Ship Bottom201 East Bay Ave., Manahawkin • 609.361.1300

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n 2009, I started Echoes of LBI to support and promote the special lifestyle of LBI: its community, arts, dining and natural beauty. From the beginning, many people collected Echoes

and have been seeking out past issues. As we close our seventh year, we celebrate our success with a “greatest hits” version. This collector’s edition represents a selection of the most popular stories, photos,

poems and essays that showcase our Island and its unique beauty in a very special way.   The history of how LBI was settled, the architecture of its first homes, and the grandeur of past hotels all echo across our dunes today. From the original locals to the long-time seasonal visitors, everyone has a story.

Our job is to bring those stories to life. Stories like that of my grandfather who came to Kinsey Cove, Harvey Cedars in 1906. He paid Mr. Kinsey $5.00 a month for his land until it was paid off. This is just one of the many wonderful stories of the history of LBI. 

Since the first issue of Echoes, we have lost some of our favorite people pictured in photos or stories. Others have moved on to different jobs or to other areas of the country. Nonetheless, they all are part of the fabric of Echoes of LBI. Ann Kendall gave me some great pictures and wonderful stories of our colorful residents, some of which we will use in future articles. She had been kind enough to take the time to help keep our community history available to everyone.

This issue is a tribute to all who helped make Echoes of LBI the premiere lifestyle magazine of our community. It takes an Island to bring the best of LBI to you in each issue.

Please enjoy this commemorative edition. And remember to come back for all the off-season events.

Echoes of LBI - Where past memories and present day experiences shine.

Have a beautiful sunset!

Cheryl Kirby, Publisher

Publisher’s Note

Follow us on

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First In

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Echoes of the Past

Above from left to right: Chelsea Steinberg, Tina Overman, Chelsea Stulga, Holly Aitken, Lauren Gleason, Elizabeth Weber, Chelsea Johnston, Brianna Reigstad, Julia Burd, Kate Salerno, Rachel Heussner, Christine Seddon, Cassandra Ettman, Annabel Maschal, Tarah Trebino and Andie Sablosky. Marjorie Amon photo taken in 2011

Below, representing Jingles Bait and Tackle of Beach Haven, from left to right: Kim Bald, Bob Hauptvogel, Joe Poslusny, Denis Kirby, Frank Pearson, Dave DiEugenio, Victor Stulga, Frank Panzone and Richard Costa. Marjorie Amon photo taken in 2012

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Above, right to left: Tim Olivett (The Plantation), Nick Frungillo (Daddy O Hotel & Restaurant), Jimmy Maugeri (Surf City Hotel), Rich Schobel (Black Whale Bar and Fish House), Allan Menegus (Buckalew's Restaurant & Tavern), Dan Stragapede (LaSpiaggia Restaurant), Ray Hughes (Raimondo’s), Dru Scheidell (The Boathouse), Bob Shannon (Tuckers), Kevin Carscadden (L’Assiette), Richard Diemer (The Gables), Corey Kurica (The Bayberry Inn, now The Arlington), Christopher Sanchez (Black Eyed Susan’s Cafe) and Howard Effron (Kubel’s and Kubel’s Too). Marjorie Amon photo taken in 2011

Below: Surfers representing Surf Unlimited of Ship Bottom. Marjorie Amon photo taken in 2010

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Art 10 Photography 20 Poetry 34 Beach Paws 38 Lifestyle 42Marine Science 58 Sea Glass & Art Festival 75 50 & Counting 76

Remembering the Shack 88 Looking Back 90 Why You Should Stay 104 A Shore Thing 110 Echoes of LBI Magazine • Cheryl Kirby - Owner & Publisher • (609) 361-1668 • 406 Long Beach Blvd. • Ship Bottom, NJ • Echoesoflbi.com

Advertisers: People collect Echoes of LBI - your ad has the potential to be seen over and over again for years to come! Email articles on history, nostalgia, poetry or art to: [email protected]

All content of magazine, website and social media remains copyright of Cheryl Kirby. No part of this publication may be reproduced.

Magazine Designer - Sara Caruso • Copy Editors - Joyce Poggi Hager and Kevin M. RooneyPhotographers - Marjorie Amon, Sara Caruso, Ryan Marchese, Jim O'Connor, and Sally Vennel

Pre-press - Vickie VanDoren • Contributing Editor - Susan Spicer-McGarry • Marine Science - Sara CarusoContributors - Sara Caruso, Gretchen F. Coyle, Elishia Dallman, Pat Dagnall, Rena DiNeno,

Carol Freas, Ellen Hammonds, Annaliese Jakimides, Maggie O’Neill, Diane Stulga and Vickie VanDorenCover photo by Jack Reynolds

A big thank you to Joanne Guertler for making the mermaid costumes on this page.

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Mermaids from left to right: Olive, Hazel, Amelia, Erin, Harper, Eve, Rebecca, Juliana,

Olivia, Hadley, Heidi and Giulia

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Growing up in Beach Haven, Long Beach Island, my lifelong fascination with the ocean, sky, and nature began when I was young and surfing the crystal blue waves of the coast. Much of my work is based on photographs which are then made into a sketch, or draft, for a later painting. To see more of my artwork, please visit me at jackmcvey.com —Jack McVey

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Karen Bagnard artwork

Karen Bagnard artworkDolphin • Robert Kline artwork

Sea Baby • Robert Kline artwork

Karen Bagnard artwork


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“Make a mess”, he said with assertion. I sat there puzzled. What I had in front of me were six bottles of poster paints, two

brushes, and a pad of newsprint. I sat on an orange crate in a brightly lighted basement room in Greenwich Village in 1964. To me, a young doctor, the words organized, efficient, and goal oriented were foreign language. But yet I, with eight other puzzled thirty-somethings, were equally impressed by this 74-year-old Russian-American artist. We dove in, splattering and pushing the paint. So began my career as a painter and a love was born. It took me to summers at Skowhegan, Maine, and San Miguel de Allende in Mexico; to workshops in Amagansett, Taos, Truro, and to teachers like Jules Olitski, Bryce Marden, and Jacob Lawrence.

At first I used acrylics and oils then discovered and settled on watercolor. I had no formal training but I pursued my passion for art while maintaining a career as a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst. I am truly blessed to have three loves: therapy, painting and playwriting. I’ve had a full production of a one act play at HB Studios directed by Herbert Berghoff and a reading of a full length play at the Arclight Theatre in Manhattan. Now, on LBI, where I come on weekends and summers, I have been sketching and painting houses, boats, docks, shells and non-objective abstractions of whatever occurs to me. I love the light, the ocean and the people who live here and I am fortunate to still sit down with my paints, watercolor paper, and brushes to “make a mess.” —Art Liebeskind


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Ed Luterio artwork


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Carol Freas artowrk

Carol Freas' collectionof beach badges. Marjorie Amon photo Pat Morgan artwork

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My love of the ocean and fishing all began about 30 years ago when my father took me on a nighttime

fishing trip on The Miss Barnegat Light. All I can remember is that it was a super warm, calm

starlit night and the fishing was amazing! People were catching bluefish, stripers, sharks – you name it! I was fascinated at the beauty and strength of the fish that were being caught. I have been drawing since I could hold a crayon, so I always brought something to draw with on long trips like the one that night.

After catching a few bluefish I was exhausted! They were big for a 13-year-old kid, so I took one out of the burlap bag hanging from the rail and took it to the front of the boat with my sketchbook in hand and laid him down at my feet and proceeded to draw him – over and over again,

in different positions, as though it were a school of them swimming and eating the little bunker that we were using for bait. I'm sure if I saw it today I would be completely

embarrassed at how bad it may appear, but it's what got me started painting and drawing my favorite subject matter.

Spending time on LBI swimming, surf fishing, crabbing or just walking to the top of "Old Barney" carrying my first

born daughter the whole way (What was I thinking?) all add to my mental and physical photo library that serve as reference for many of my paintings. I grew up loving all things nautical, LBI was a huge part of my life then and

still is! —Edward A. Luterio

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PhotographyThese pages: "The Cannibal Queen," one of the nation’s most historic aircraft, provides rides over New Jersey beaches. Marjorie Amon photos

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Paddle Your Cares Away!

Left to right: Brian and Dave Thompson, and Denis Kirby. Photography on these pages by Sara Caruso

Jenna Thomas Kathy Wells


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Donna Bradley Debbie Rivas

Jenna Thomas

Colleen Panetta Wade Bradley Susan Kilcheski

Merry Simmons

Lisa Hill

Mark Simmons

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"Fishin' Jack" • Photograph by his mother


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Michael Dunn and Jennifer Welc burst through an LBI wave. Jim O’Connor photo

Cherubini spotted in LBI waters • Marjorie Amon photo

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Kelly Andrews photo

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In 2012, two weeks before Superstorm Sandy, we broke the World Record™ for most conch horns being blown in one area. Then our record was broken in Nassau, Bahamas by a mere 37 people (ours was 258 and they had 295). This year we will try to break their record at the LBI Sea Glass & Art Festival.

All shells must be true conch ( ) horns for this event because of strict Guinness requirements about the species of shell used to break the record.

Sign up from 12pm-2:30pm, event begins at 3pm. Bring your own or horns will be available to buy or rent (driver's license required as collateral). "The Conchquistador's" will be performing and giving lessons.

Call (609) 361-1668 for more information.

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Erin • Marjorie Amon photo

Cassidy and Lydia • Marjorie Amon photoElla • Stacy Warkentine photo

Cassidy and Lydia • Marjorie Amon photo

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Heidi, Olivia and Eve • Marjorie Amon photo

Olivia and Eve • Marjorie Amon photo

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Shane Evans hangs loose on top of a 1965 Gordon and Smith surfboard. Standing up from left to right: Gene Lopez, Jeff Evans, Michael Bossman (owner of the board), and John Bossman. Marjorie Amon photo

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Marjorie Amon photos

NEW JERSEY LIGHTHOUSE CHALLENGE • OCTOBER 17 & 18 Can you make it to the top of every New Jersey lighthouse? Visitors get an opportunity to tour the state and visit

each lighthouse while helping raise funds for the continued preservation of these treasured landmarks. The Barnegat Lighthouse and its museum on LBI will be open both days. Come be part of history!

For more information go to lighthousechallengenj.org

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"In Summer I Rode My Bike" • Kim Trotto artwork

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"Day Fishing" • Carol Freas artwork


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"Margaritaville" • Chris Vohden artwork

"Bliss" • Pat Morgan artwork

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Love Affair: My Journey To and From the SeaIt started like a love affair. You were my dream.

Something I wanted more than anything was to live near your shoreline.

I came to you often for a quiet rest or a strengthening walk, to search for peace, and to be in awe of your mighty presence. You never failed to be what I needed.

I was where I longed to be.

I treasured all the pleasures and beauty that you offered.

When I had to be away from you I counted the days until we would be back together for those long summer affairs.

We blissfully stayed together for 28 years.

I thought I would grow old with you.

It was a relationship based on respect and gratitude.

I didn’t know this loving relationship would come to an end.

There were warnings that this would happen. I didn’t really believe it.

But your destruction did come.

It was complete and for me there was no reconciliation.

I trusted you but you betrayed me.

I was angry, hurt, and changed.

We were going to separate.

I had to create a new me without you.

It took time to heal from the losses.

But prayer and faith brought me peace.

Now I understand that you didn’t mean to cause such pain.

Looking back I know that I was blessed with a life by the sea.

I still cherish my memories and at times still long for the lulling song that you sang to me so often. I miss your breeze touching my sun-warmed skin and your gentle approach as you stretched to meet me. You were wild and passionate and refreshed my spirit.

Much like the special place in one’s heart for a past love, you have become a drifting memory of another time and place.

But I have no more anger, no regrets.

You have taught me to let go.

I have taken a new journey –

And I have started a new love affair with life...

—Carol Krom


I left a love at the edge of a continent hollowed outby the wind unable to love in herhollowed form she shifted like grains of sand dune to duneshapeless grass to grass never taking rootmoaning in the sea winds at the edge of her self.

At the edge of a continent the criesof gulls the boom and hiss of waves and broken shellsof living beings shattered and strew in the tide line.

A split rail fence leads down the edgeto wooden steps and the boundary's wavy linedrawn in the sand by tides high and lownight and day moon and sun – time after timethe line drawn. And redrawn.

I step out where nothing needs saying where everything isabsorbed through the smell of salt and sea winds. At the edge of a continent my new shell forms under a blue sky.

—Frank Finale

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Beach PawsLBI dogs of all breeds rock their new collars and leads.Sara Caruso photo taken in 2012

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"Lbi"• Judy Tunis photo

Beach Paws

"Lbi"• Judy Tunis photo

As the dog days of summer drag on, we must make sure our four-legged friends are safe from the summer's worst offenders. Don't let your dog stay out in the sun or high temperatures too long and always keep them well hydrated. Make sure your dog isn't being plagued by biting insects. We all like to have fun in the summer, but just like you, there are some parts of the summer your dog doesn't like.

"Sophie" • "Hope I’m not the hot dog on the menu!" • Carole Bradshaw photo

Beach Paws

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"Tappy" • Sara Caruso photo

Dominic and Francesca play with their hermit crabs.

Hermit crabs make great first time pets for children, but few know that they can play with their crab. It is important for a child to learn how to interact with the crab and how to

hold it so they don't get pinched. It's also important for the crab to get out of its habitat now and then and get some enrichment. They love to crawl around Lego castles you build or dollhouses, as well as around your room as long as they are under your supervision.

Unfortunately, many people who have crabs see them as nothing more than summer souvenirs or “background pets” that just stay in a tank and don't do anything. They are inquisitive and curious little guys that love to play. As with any pet, learning how to handle them is the first step.

When choosing a crab, try not to pick one that's too afraid of humans or too excitable as all they would want to do is run away and hide. An excitable crab is a stressed out crab and stress can kill them. They should slowly come out on your hand and want to explore. That's how you know they will be more interactive and want to play with you.

Always be gentle with animals. Never pull on their legs or antennae or try to remove them from their shell. If you are a parent, make sure you educate your child about your new pet and make sure they are ready.

Remember, no animal is a souvenir or meant to be left in your room as a object. They may seem small, but hermit crabs can learn and have fun just like we do! —Sara Caruso

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Marjorie Amon photo

Love letters in the sand • Ed and Susan McLaughlin photo

The Tabora Family • Kirk Jarvis photo

Bob Irvine • Cheryl Kirby photo

Left to right: Anna Gawronski, Jessica and Nicolas Cherubino and Ava Gawronski. Ashley Smith photo

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Pete Milnes photo

Carole Bradshaw photo

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I wake up, full of Long Beach Island energy, look out the window, and see a purple and dark navy sky. “Oh no,” I think, “it’s going to rain! No beach today.” True to its

colors, the sky soon opens up and the rain begins to fall. As the storm builds, I find myself mesmerized. For the first time I pay attention to the sound of the rain as it hits the roof and windows. It seems like nature’s music as I listen intently as the symphony unfolds. An unexpected peace engulfs me. I settle back into the old, overstuffed couch and feel myself start to relax. All the things on my “to do” list are suddenly canceled. I now have forced free time on my hands – a welcome sentence, handed down from above.

I look around the room. The wild storm outside seems to underscore the coziness of my shore home. Original hard wood flooring creates a warm atmosphere. The knotty pine paneling is polished and seems to shine against the fieldstone of the fireplace. The old, nautical lamp lends a glow to the room, as only a lamp lit in gray daylight can do. It’s comfy. I smile and turn my thoughts to rainy day musings, inexplicably feeling the urge to finally read the book on LBI history sitting on my coffee table. I start with the chapter on storms.

After a morning of snuggling, dozing, and reading, my lazy bones start to wake up, itching for a way to spend this gift of time. The rhythm of the storm beckons me. I throw on an old, yellow slicker over my shorts and tee, grab my knee high, red rubber boots, and head out into the music of the rain. The weather gods forbid me to take my cell phone. Like a child, I delight in the deep running river of water in the gutters and laugh at the waves on the boulevard. I actually skip in their wake, as warm rain mixes with the cold drain water from the bay, splashing over the top of my boots. “What the heck,” I think, “I would be just as wet if I were swimming in the ocean.” Throwing back my hood, I stick out my tongue to catch the rain drops. A car goes by, fast enough to produce another wave and

I smile as the driver gives me the thumbs up sign. I walk the boulevard for longer than I do in sunshine, marveling at the grayness, the water, and the sound of the wind and rain. The wet salt air is thick with the smell of the ocean and it fills me with happiness. I stop in at a deli and shake off the water, like a retriever just out of a lake. The man behind the counter smiles and we share a laugh about the weather. I buy a cup of hazelnut coffee and sit by the window. The aroma is wonderful and the hot beverage soothes my spirit.

Soon, it’s time to bathe again in Mother Nature’s outdoor shower. My hood is still down, my hair is soaking wet, and I have not felt this good in years. The rubber of my boots makes squishing sounds as I wade back to my little cottage. Stepping into the house, I realize that these walls have weathered a hundred storms, many much worse than this one. I am astounded at the thought and feel safe and protected in my little cottage.

By early evening, the rain stops. I pour a glass of wine, dry off one of the chairs on my porch, and sit. In the quiet of twilight, I hear so many things that I too often miss, usually too busy to notice the sounds of the day as it turns into evening. Birds chirp, one last roll of thunder echoes far off, and drops of rain plop intermittently onto the ground, like a soft drum beat. The damp night air carries the muffled sound of neighbors laughing. I sigh with contentment and take a sip of wine. The lights in the homes around me start to flicker on one by one, like fireflies in the dark night. Life is good.

Today was better than a day at the beach. Today, the Island gave me a gift: time to experience the beauty of the rain. I survived the day without my cell phone, email, or text messages. I feel cleansed, refreshed, and invigorated. Beach rain is different, I realize. Beach rain is special, and I am grateful for this late August storm. —Maggie O’Neill

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Mullet School in Wave • Tom Lynch/Angry Fish photography

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Cedar shower designed for three young girls with multiple shower heads. Ample shower space to wash up when returning from the bay or beach.

Haven Beach. Copyright: JeffreyTotaro.com

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Gone are the days when “outside” showers meant sprinklers for the kids to run through to wash off the traces of salt and sand from their day at the beach, their dip in the Bay. Gone, too, are the days of a solitary

showerhead hitched to a copper pipe coming from the side of the house. Not gone, however, is the thrill of showering outside, under sunlight or moonlight, all through the season – and, some might argue, beyond the season. A certain couple that I know, for example, tries to extend the outdoor shower ritual to the limit each year, jockeying to see who can take the very last shower before fall casts its chilly coat over everything.

Although no-frills outside showers have been at the core of a perfect summer at the shore for decades, the showers that now grace some yards on Long Beach Island from Beach Haven to Barnegat Light prove there’s no longer any reason why your outside shower can’t reflect your aesthetic, no reason the details can’t say this was made especially for you, and no reason it can’t be a designer’s dream space. Yes, functionality is the key, but there’s no reason you can’t add beauty to that functionality.

Recent additions to the LBI shower landscape include one made with reclaimed telephone poles; another with skylights and a wall of sandblasted glass blocks; one with a changing area that transforms into a bar top, complete with a custom cedar pocket door beside a hot tub and patio; and finally a huge changing room, an angled louvre roof with joists running in a circle, diamond-shaped black glass in-serts, and travertine tile floors. Every one of these designs includes a scene-stealer – the tile design, the glass inserts, down lighting that catches beads of water in its rays – and every one of them is its own unique self.

Some outdoor shower projects require that the existing footprint be maintained. Others must fit into a small C-shaped space under a deck. Some people want their outdoor shower as a standalone structure by the water and others want to be able to transition from outdoor shower space to house directly. Whatever the preference, it’s all doable.

It’s all about selecting the right features and materials – both Western red cedar and Brazilian mahogany have a strong tolerance for moisture and require minimal attention – and about envisioning how those features and materials will best come together for a particular family. If you have a houseful of boys, you may want a big space with multiple showerheads, which is an easy way to add tremendous function to the showering experience. If you will be using your outdoor shower for day guests, you might want a changing room with storage and shelves. You might want backlighting or down lighting and, perhaps, occupancy sensors to turn your lights on and off. It can be very simple, a refined application of light. You just need to choose the right fixtures to be able to create the mood, or moods, you want.

More than anything, what you really want, mixed in with all that stunning beauty and attention to detail, is easy maintenance. This is summer on LBI, and the liv-ing is supposed to be easy – and, yes, of course, heavenly. —Annaliese Jakimides

Over the last two decades, Mark Reynolds of Reynolds Landscaping has designed and installed more summer showers on Long Beach Island than anyone else. That kind of experience means Reynolds can work with just about any requirement and deliver. All photos are Reynolds designs and construction, and all are on LBI.

Center Island cedar and IPE wood shower with towel storage. Spray Beach. Copyright: JeffreyTotaro.com

Shower wands and a large rectangular rainhead provide ample water for this Bayfront shower. Directional down lighting creates an artistic pattern on the natural stone wall. Loveladies. Copyright: Tanek Hood/ReynoldsLandscaping.com

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Richard Aitken's business and family roots go back five generations when they came from Norway and helped build the Viking

Village fishing docks at the “Ole Barney” Lighthouse Inlet. 

Richard is community-minded and environmentally conscious. When it comes to building green, Richard is a master at working with the natural world and enhancing, not destroying, nature. He skillfully and meticulously rebuilt an arbor that was embedded with a 25 year old wisteria without interfering with the plant's growth or beauty. Taking one stick at a time out of the massive arbor, he carefully put one cedar piece in its place. The wisteria and arbor live on.

Adding a designer look to the functionality of gutters seems impossible, but Richard Aitken

does just that. A rain chain does the job of a down spout while enhancing any home with a beautiful

chain of hanging designs.

When the merchants of Ship Bottom reached out to him for assistance to start an annual winter festival, he

generously offered to create and build a winter village at the Ship Bottom boat ramp. One building is used year round as the boat master’s building.  

These are just a few examples of how A. Richard Aitken Builders continues to build relationships with the community, clients and nature, one project at time. Photography by Vickie VanDoren


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How many times have you awakened desperate for that first sip of coffee to make it from your mouth to your brain, for the caffeine to begin its daily animation of

the senses, and for it to initiate the morning ritual of stimulating and coaching your brain receptors into clearer thinking channels? On the other hand, how many times have you ended a day with a glass of wine – white, red, blush, whatever the day’s meal warranted – in order to bring to rest all of that day’s frenetic activity? If you are an avid coffee drinker, probably more days have begun with coffee than have ended with wine. Yet, how much do you know about your coffee as compared to your wine?

Until just a few years ago, coffee, that ubiquitous drink of the masses, could be found in only two varieties in most American coffee-serving venues: decaf and leaded. Perhaps this is why the art and science of coffee production is such a mystery in our country. Indeed, our educational deficit in the realm of coffee stands in stark contrast to the overload of information about wine.

We revel in a panoply of wine choices: full-bodied, balanced, clean, flowery, earthy, peppery, insipid, brilliant, woody, long, sweet. There is an endless list of magazines and books dedicated to wine, and tours of various regions of the country famous for winemaking have become the focus of many vacations. For the serious oenophile, wineries offer courses ranging from the basics of viniculture to the finer points of appreciating the province of Bacchus. Yet, where do we turn to learn about coffee? There appears to be a coffee information gap.

Nevertheless, with so many more coffee choices now available, many coffee aficionados have begun to develop their own particular set of preferences. Coffee variations are no longer

limited to cream and sugar versus black. A recent coffee revolution has brought us a host of variations on the singular coffee theme. Coffee drinkers can now choose from a long list of coffee options, such as latte, mocha, macchiato, espresso, cappuccino – to mention a few – that barely resemble the old familiar “cup o’ joe.” Regardless of what in particular we drink, though, the United States is drinking coffee like never before. Coffee brands are numerous, and the market just keeps on expanding. So with all the

choices available to us today, what are we choosing when we select a particular brand of coffee? Do they

really differ? Or, are we simply looking at minor distinctions without any clear

differences? After all, coffee is just coffee, right?

Of course, it is not that simple. The journey to a great cup of coffee starts with the coffee bush and the familiar coffee bean. Slightly taller than the blueberry bush, the coffee bush produces a fruit called the cherry, and the coffee bean is actually the pit of the cherry. Grown in

specific regions, with due consideration for

the elements of rainfall, soil, altitude, sunlight,

and wind strength, coffee requires an approach to

horticulture similar to that of the grape. The cherry is removed

from the bush, either stripped by machine or plucked by hand. The outside

of the cherry is then detached, and the remaining bean is cleaned and dried. It is then bagged in a 150 pound

burlap bag. At this point, the bean is actually green and has no taste, as it lies dormant and awaits the development of its particular and flavorful identity through the roasting process.

To be sure, variations in the growing, roasting, and preparation processes produce an array of coffee products that challenge wine in terms of diversity of taste and appeal. Once the coffee beans reach the roaster, the magic begins. Light roasting is done at a

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lower temperature than dark roasting. French roasting is performed at one of the highest temperatures. Flavors may be added to the beans as a liquid, absorbed into the outside of the bean, or sprayed on during the roasting process. Time and temperature of roasting are trade secrets within the industry. Certain beans lend themselves better to certain roasts. Beans may carry the particular acidity of a region, and roasters choose specific beans for their consistency or quality. Oftentimes, different types of coffee beans are blended to produce signature coffees. In the commercial world, reproducibility is key to a successful business. One shipment of bad coffee could severely impact a restaurant’s repeat clientele.

One roaster familiar with all of these complexities is Gerry Leary, of the Unseen Bean, in Boulder, Colorado. Along with all of the challenges that face other small roasters, Gerry is presented with the additional challenge of not being able to see the beans he roasts. Perhaps whether Gerry’s distinction is a hindrance or a blessing in disguise is best decided only after one has tasted his coffee. Gerry's sightlessness made his coffee roaster apprenticeship especially difficult and made the paperwork a continuing burden. It has heightened his other senses and given him a tremendous set of tools with which to approach the art of coffee roasting. Using his nose to detect the proper aroma of the cooked beans, his ears to detect the right “pitch” of beans in the tumbler, and his specially adapted, “talking” thermometer and stopwatch to monitor the process, Gerry pursues his unwavering goal of making the finest

coffee possible with unsurpassed dedication. Like a fine vintner with wine, Gerry loves the process of producing coffee from beginning to end. Gerry enjoys cooking the beans, tasting their resulting brew, and listening to the reactions of those lucky enough to sample the fruits of his labors. Fortunately for his customers, and unlike larger distributors, Gerry does not vacuum pack his beans, as this practice only invites staleness, a process that begins as soon as the beans are roasted. Always the perfectionist, Gerry believes in selling his coffee immediately, roasting only so much as can be sold at optimal quality levels.

Like so many of his colleagues, Gerry Leary knows well that the U.S. is fueled by good coffee, not by fine wine. But, somehow, wine seems to get most of the attention. Perhaps we would do well to elevate its coffee IQ. Most of us treat our wine with more respect than we accord to our coffee. We search endlessly for our new favorite wine and spend hours trying to determine the perfect vintage for a particular setting. We do not hesitate to pay more for high quality wines, and we discuss at length the intricacies of region, vintage, blend, etc. Perhaps those of us who take our coffee seriously should be no less educated about our passion. Rather than just relying on a label and a price tag to guide our coffee choices, perhaps we should inform ourselves about our morning (or whenever) godsend and embark upon our own search for perfection. Who knows, maybe your coffee habit could use a wake up call! —Jennifer Aicher

Ingredients 1 1/2 lbs. Viking Village sea scallops

RosemaryBaby spinach leaves

Drain and thoroughly dry 1 1/2 lbs. Viking Village sea scallops. Marinate in coconut oil on each side

for 5 minutes in the refrigerator. Sprinkle with black pepper and rosemary. Pierce four scallops per skewer using double skewers (makes them easy to turn). Grill for approximately 2 minutes

on each side. Lay on a bed of baby spinach. Garnish with fresh rosemary.

Serve in a seashell for a beautiful presentation.

Contributed by Cheryl Kirby

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Long Beach Island may not have 76 trombones or 110 cornets, but we do have a bona fide virtuoso. Robert “Bahb” Civiletti, a longtime summer resident of Ship Bottom, is a world-renowned, one-of-a-kind Baroque trumpeter.

Bahb and his family first encountered LBI when they vacationed in Harvey Cedars in 1979. They spent the week walking the beach, fishing, clamming, and falling in love with the Island. Well, love won out, and in 1984 they purchased a second home in Ship Bottom and joined the LBI community. As teenagers, two of his children, Robert and Dianne, worked summer jobs at The Dutchman's Brauhaus, Nardi’s, and Otts. Twenty-seven years later, they still love the Island.

Bahb Civiletti has a long and impressive musical resume. He has toured the world as a trumpeter. He’s played with The Tito Puente Latin Big Band, The Glen Miller Orchestra, The O’Jays, and several rhythm and blues bands. But life on the road for a musician is hard, especially for a musician with a young family. So, after 25 years of touring, Bahb laid down his trumpet and took a break. For the next 12 years, he focused on his family and on his antique business. As his oldest daughter walked down the aisle to the sound of a trumpet on her wedding day, however, Babh realized he missed the music. At the urging of his family, he returned to the world of music and to his new passion – Baroque music.

Baroque music is a form of European classical music first heard in the early 1600s, just around the time Dutch explorer Captain Cornelius Jacobsen Mey was first exploring the rough waters off the northern end of LBI and naming the nearby inlet to the adjacent bay “Barendegat” (Inlet of the Breakers). Baroque music remained popular during the period 1615-1750 and was considered quite avant-garde at that time. Composers of the Baroque Period include Johann Sebastian Bach and Georg Friedrich Handel. Galileo, Sir Isaac Newton, and perhaps even George Washington attended Baroque concerts. It was all the rage!

Today, Bahb tours the world performing, teaches the embouchure method for trumpet, and appears as a guest principal trumpet with many Baroque orchestras. He has also co-authored a book on the trumpet, Trumpet Secrets. His website, www.tce-studio.com, has tips for trumpeters, music, and information on the embouchure technique. Beach music may be The Beach Boys to some, but to Bahb, it’s Baroque! —Christine Rooney. Photography by Cheryl Kirby

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So, you think you don’t like bluefish? Well, after following these filleting techniques, you may very well change your mind. Mark Simmons recently shared his filleting finesse with

me after returning from fishing for “blues,” and it sure was some tasty advice!

Mark and his wife Merry live in Kinsey Cove, in Harvey Cedars. Mark has lived on LBI almost all of his life, and Merry was born and raised in Harvey Cedars. Mark, like so many residents and visitors, enjoys fishing Barnegat Bay. I visited with Mark the day he had just returned from fishing for blues, just as he was preparing to fillet his catch under two umbrellas. The umbrellas keep the area cool and prevent seagulls from getting a free lunch. Mark wasted no time educating me on how to fillet bluefish in order to ensure the best taste.

After the fish are caught, they need to be put in a live well or, as Mark prefers, immediately on ice. In fact, he actually keeps them on ice through the entire filleting process. And it’s important to have the fillet table at a comfortable height. This prevents back strain. Over the years, Mark has settled on Corian for his table of choice. It doesn’t dull his knives as quickly as a stainless steel tabletop and is easier to keep clean than wood.

Surrounding the workstation is a cooler filled with his recently caught bluefish in ice water, a bucket for the carcasses, and a container with more ice for the bluefish fillets. There is also a hose set on the shower setting, hanging nearby and ready to spray the fillets and to wash down the work area when the job is done.

Now, comes the finesse part. Follow Mark’s steps carefully and you too can prepare incredible bluefish fillets. Take one fish out of the ice water and place it horizontally on the filleting table, fairly close to you, in order to maintain the best control. Grab the head, preferably by the gill (bluefish have sharp teeth), securing it to the table. Now, with a sharp filleting knife, placed at a 45 degree angle behind the front fin, press down until you feel the skeleton under the knife. Turn the blade and flatten it over the skeleton, making a continuous, horizontal slice over the bones, toward the tail. You want to be close to the dorsal and close to the belly, without slicing into the stomach.

Once that portion of the fish has been removed, immediately turn it over and rinse off the blood. Spray the work surface to get rid of any blood or slime and place the fillet, skin side down, off to the side of your clean work area or in another bucket of ice water. You will trim the skin from the meat later on. Turn over the fish you just filleted, spray the work area, and repeat the process on this side of the fish. Discard the carcass in a bucket and use it for crabbing in the bay. As Mark emphasizes, in order to ensure a quality fillet, do not allow the skin side or any blood to touch the meat side of the fish.

There are now two fillets that need the skin removed. Spray the work area clean again and place the skin side down on the fillet table. Holding the fillet, slice into the meat so there is a piece that can be held while removing the skin from the meat. Using a

continuous motion, pull the knife through horizontally, while simultaneously pulling the side you are holding in the opposite direction. Still holding the fillet, discard the skin in the carcass bucket and spray off any blood and scales from the fish and work surface.

Next, remove the belly meat, which may contain PCBs, and slice out any red meat, which has an unpleasantly strong

taste. Finally, place these fillets in clean ice water until you are ready to refrigerate. Now, all that’s left is your big decision: bake, grill, broil, or fry.

Mark made the process look easy, so I decided to put his lesson to the test, under his supervision. While I wasn’t quite as proficient, I certainly felt more comfortable with my newly acquired knowledge. Bluefish are more delicate than I realized. The trick is to keep them cold, use a sharp knife, rinse them and the work surface after each step, and be sure that the final fillet is free of the strong tasting red meat. Later that day, after marinating the fillets Mark gave me in coconut oil and lemon juice, I chose to broil them. The result of Mark’s expert work was quite incredible. I enjoyed the most tender, flavorful bluefish I have ever eaten. Thanks, Mark! —Photography and text by Vickie VanDoren

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3 cups of cleaned, fresh bluefish

1/2 cup diced sweet onions

2 egg whites

2/3 cup of blue cheese

1/4 cup heavy cream

Sauté onions in coconut oil until translucent. Put bluefish in blender and set on chop for 40 seconds. In medium to large mixing bowl, add all ingredients, mix well and form into patties. Cook for 3-4 minutes on each side, turning carefully. Garnish with salad greens and lemon.

Contributed by Cheryl Kirby

Ed Luterio artwork

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"Little Blue Heron" • Scott Palmeri photo

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Marine Science

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Scott Palmeri photo

Lou Gura photo

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Marine Science

Few things bring me more pleasure than a walk on the beach in the off-season when the crowds have gone and there is still some warmth radiating from the sun. It was mid-

September when I set out to walk the beach at Barnegat Light. Dressed in a hoodie to protect me from the remnants of a recent nor'easter, I walked along the jetty in solitude. An occasional wave crested over the rocks, spraying salt water in my face. It tasted good, confirming my presence at the shore. I walked about a mile and a half, collecting shells and lost fishing lures before I spotted it. Just ahead, half buried in a pile of eel grass, lay a bottle. Just litter, I thought, as I reached to pick it up. But much to my surprise, inside the corked bottle was a folded up piece of paper. At that moment, imagination replaced reality, as I envisioned the classic scenario: someone was stranded on a deserted island and needed to be rescued!

My hands were shaking when I uncorked the bottle to see if, indeed, there was a message written on the paper. And, yes, there was. I handed my camera to the only other person on the beach and asked him to take a picture: me, the bottle, and Barnegat Lighthouse in the background, perfectly documenting the location. Together, we uncorked the bottle and read the message. The handwriting gave clues of foreign origin. European, we guessed. We continued to read the letter:

"Message in a Bottle/Observation of Helplessness. Sunday night, lower East Side, "Living Room" bar, Ludlow Street. An unusual sight – the doorman at the entrance to the bar is reading a book, One Hundred Years of Solitude Marquez. This doorman wants to see my ID, then speaks to me in German. His German is virtually without any accent. I ask him how come, and he answers that he studied German and philosophy. After that, he was a translator for a while. To prove his knowledge of German, he suddenly begins quoting from Goethe's Faust. I go into the bar and he says, in German, it was nice killing time with me. He carries on reading his book. There are only five people in the bar." The note was signed “Sven Johne, 18 September, 2008. Block Island, RI USA.”

On the other side of the note was a request to reply to the provided email address if the bottle was found. I thanked the man for taking my picture and returned home with my newly found treasure. I was curious and anxious to learn more about the mysterious note in the bottle and wasted no time sending an email to let Sven Johne know that I had found his bottle.

Several days passed before I heard from Sven, a 32-year-old artist who lived in Berlin, Germany. He explained that, while visiting New York City, he observed the well-educated doorman working in a mediocre bar (The Living Room) and wondered why. Was it

because he wanted to or was this the only job he could get? This vision of entrapment (or, “helplessness,” as Sven saw it) caused Sven to do on behalf of the over-qualified doorman what you would do if you were helplessly shipwrecked: send out a message in a bottle, the metaphor for a cry for help.

On September 18, Sven had tossed seven bot-tles into the sea at Block Island, Rhode Island. It took seven days for the bottle to travel south to Barnegat Light, crossing over two rock jet-ties, before safely landing on the beach for me to find. Symbolically, the bottle says, if you ask for help, as long as someone finds your appeal, you have a chance of being rescued from your circumstances. But, if no one finds the bottle, you are helplessly stuck wherever you are. Unfortunately, my finding Sven's bottle did not help the doorman. If the doorman truly

wants to be rescued, I guess he’ll have to toss his own bottle into the sea or perhaps hire a recruiter specializing in German speaking philosophers. In any event, life goes on at the shore for those of us lucky enough to be beachcombers. You never know what exciting

things you'll find when you walk on the beach – at a mini-mum, there are still six more bottles out there! The Mes-

sage in the Bottle story is on exhibit in Sven's art gallery in Berlin, Germany. —Carole Bradshaw. (Carole

has found many treasures while walking on the beaches of LBI. Her most significant

find was the anchor from the 1910 shipwreck of the Fortuna).

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Something truly amazing washes up on our beaches every year. It is

literally a living fossil, as it has been around since before the dinosaurs. A creature with a helmet-shaped head, sharp tail, and blue blood, the horseshoe crab is a common sight on East Coast beaches.

Centuries of overharvesting the horseshoe crab for bait and blood, however, have left this thick-headed oddity in a precarious position. Moreover, a new threat may lead to extinction. The phenomenon of rising tides and strong storm surges is making the oceans an increasingly threatening

environment for the species.

With ten eyes, you might suppose the crabs would see this coming, but global temperature changes are causing big problems for the species. Recently, a scientific expedition to a beach on Cape May, where several thousand crabs mate and lay their eggs every year, revealed a startling problem. About one hundred of the crabs from the previous night were stranded on the far side of the beaches, far away from the water, due to the harsh oceanic conditions we face today. Several were completely buried, with nothing more than their tails

Marine Science

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wagging to show they were still alive. More were tangled amongst the reeds and dune grass, clumped together in heaps and unable to maneuver over the harsh landscape. Normally, horseshoe crabs arrive on the first full moon of May, during the highest tide. The females, which are more than twice the size of the males, come to lay sixty thousand to one hundred thousand eggs each.

Contrary to a common belief, horseshoes do not die after they mate unless they become stranded and cannot make their way to the water. Myth states that horseshoe crabs are immortal. While this is not true, the myths are likely based upon their strange blue blood.Horseshoe crabs are not technically crabs. They are arthropods and are more closely related to scorpions and spiders. They are essentially huge bugs – bugs that have evolved for more than 450 million years. This bug, however, has an interesting trait.

Unlike humans, horseshoe crabs do not have hemoglobin, or iron rich blood cells, in their body. Instead, they have copper laden hemocyanin and, so, their blood is blue. Their blood also contains amoebocyte, which protects them from disease, and it is this factor that has scientists very interested. Researchers have looked into how the blue blood of the horseshoe crabs fights off dangerous bacteria such as E. coli and how it may be used in

sterilizing medical equipment and pharmaceuticals. A synthetic form of the blood has been manufactured, but it has thus far not proved to be effective. Moreover, while the process of “bleeding” the live animals usually does not cause any problems, scientists have been reluctant to use this alternative in order to reduce the amount of stress bearing upon this already challenged species. In any event, horseshoe crabs will need to survive as a species if they are to be of any use to human medical science.

Unfortunately, ever-rising tides from global climate change may be the killer of these crabs in the future. As the seas rise, more and more beaches are being swallowed up, thus eliminating valuable breeding spaces for the crabs. Furthermore, these increasing tides are simply carrying the crabs so far ashore that they are literally being stranded. Though it is still unusual to find horseshoe crabs in as much trouble as they were that day on a small Cape May beach, it is clear this observation should point to a serious concern that this species may well fall victim to what is actually happening in the oceans as our global climate changes.

So if you ever come across a live horseshoe crab on your beach walk, please consider returning it to the sea. Even though it will not be able to express its gratitude, you will be sure to feel the satisfaction of knowing you have done your part to help this ancient species survive. For more information, go to horseshoecrab.org —Photography and text by Sara Caruso

Nature has a funny way of lending a help-ing hand. Some of the most unsuspecting places on the planet have yielded incredible

advancements in the medical field. Thanks to the ac-cidental contamination of a Petri dish by Sir Alexander Fleming, penicillin has become one of the most widely used antibiotics on the market. Nature also played its role in the involvement of morphine in medicine. Syn-thesized from the opium poppy, morphine is used prior to surgery and to reduce severe pain.

Now, researchers at the University of Queensland have discovered that one of the most venomous invertebrates in the ocean contains a peptide which can be used as an analgesic. Normally, the toxins produced by members of the genus Conus are used in both defense and preda-tion. When alarmed or hunting, cone snails deploy a modified radula from a proboscis and inject neuro-toxins that affect the central nervous system. Approxi-mately 30 reported cases of human envenomation have occurred worldwide. Most envenomations occur on the hands or legs as a result of disturbing the animal, whether intentional or not. There are thousands of spe-cies of cone snails found worldwide, yet only about 20 are considered dangerous to humans.

The w-Conotoxin, a neurotoxin found in Conus mar-moreus, the marble cone snail, exhibits the ability to provide relief from constant, chronic pain without the side effects of conventional drugs. —Ryan Marchese

Cone Shell

Friend or Foe?

Ron Weise photo

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Marjorie Amon photos

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Established 1950

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Don’t get bitten by a shark while walking on the beach! Keep your eyes out for prehistoric shark teeth. They may not be as common and easy to find as your favorite local shell but

they are out there if you know what to look for.

Scientists believe that sharks evolved about 390 million years ago. Since sharks are made up of cartilage not bone, the soft skeletons do not fossilize well and do not get the chance to leave much evi-dence of their long history behind. However, sharks’ teeth fossilize very well. Sharks have a hard enamel on their teeth that make them very durable. Prehistoric sharks have not changed too much from the sharks we have today. Like today's sharks, prehistoric sharks were constantly growing new teeth behind the old ones that moved forward when a shark dropped a tooth. Young sharks replace each tooth almost once a week, so over millions of years, you can imagine the amount of prehistoric shark teeth out there waiting to be found. Shark teeth fossils were created when a prehistoric shark dropped a tooth which landed in sediment and was protected from the elements.

Due to the protection from oxygen and bacteria that would nor-mally destroy the tooth, it is preserved over the years and eventu-ally becomes a fossil. A shark tooth can be millions of years old, but it takes at least 10,000 years for a tooth to become an actual fossil. Be on the lookout for a tooth of any color. Depending on the type of sediment the tooth had been buried in, it can be differ-ent colors. The most common colors found are grey and black, but they can be red, brown, or have yellow tones in them.

It is a rare treat to find any prehistoric shark tooth fossil, but the diamond of all is the carcharodon megalodon. This is the largest of

all predatory sharks to have ever lived. It is described in appearance as a very large great white shark – so large in fact that scientists believe it grew to up to 60 feet long and fed mostly on whales! You can imagine it had some pretty big teeth. A fossilized tooth found from this shark will generally be between 1 ½ to 4 ½ inches from the tip of the tooth to the root, although some found have been up to seven inches in length.

Next time you are about to step on a dark colored rock or shell on the beach, take a closer look because you never know what you’ll find. While you won’t find a fossilized shark tooth with every step, they have been found in our area. Knowing what to look for will help in your treasure hunt. Good luck! —Mark McGann

Megalodon teeth, each four inches long.

Sara Caruso photo

Great Whites (modern and prehistoric): Sizes from 1" to 2.25"Tiger Sharks (modern): Sizes from 1/2" to 2.5" • Mako (modern): 1"- 3"

Shark Jaws: Sizes from 6" up to 3 feet wide (1000 lb. shark) Located at 406 Long Beach Blvd. • Ship Bottom, NJ • (609) 361-1668

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Pete Milnes photoPage 68 • Echoes of LBI

Marine Science

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2 lbs. lump crab meat2 eggs (beaten)2 cups of bread crumbs (plain or seasoned)1 1/2 sticks of butter1 cup of scallions1/2 to 3/4 cup jalapeno peppers3/4 cup heavy cream2 teaspoons dry mustardPinch of cayenne pepper

Melt 1 1/2 sticks butter in large skillet over medium/high heat. Sauté scallions and jalapenos 2 minutes until bright green. Add cream and bring to a boil. Stir over medium heat 3-5 minutes until mixture thickens. Remove from heat and stir in mustard and cayenne. Cool at least 5 minutes.

Place crab in large bowl and stir in scallion mixture. Using an ice cream scoop, place crab on cookie sheet and place in freezer until firm or frozen. When ready to serve, remove cakes from freezer and thaw. Place bread crumbs on a cookie sheet. Melt butter and oil in a large fry pan (electric one works well) medium heat. While still firm, dip crab cakes in beaten eggs, roll in read crumbs and sauté until golden brown. While frying, press crab cakes gently to form traditional shape.

Contributed by Joe Mack

For most LBI visitors, eating seafood, especially crabs, is synonymous with coming to the shore. And when it comes to crabs, there is no finer delicacy than a freshly caught soft

shell crab. Many visitors and native LBIslanders enjoy crabbing and will agree; however the window of opportunity when one can catch a soft shell crab is limited. During a crab’s lifespan, which could be as long as three to four years, it will shed its shells between 18 and 21 times – 18 for males and 18 to 21 for females. Each time, they increase their size by 25-30%. They are referred to as shedders or peelers in this phase.

When they get so big that the back of their shell begins to crack, they wiggle their way out and back out of their snug fitting shell. They leave behind claws, legs, swimmers and the exoskeleton structure of the shell. We call them busters when they are laboring through this task. Once out of their shell, they pump themselves with water to puff out and expand their compressed body, thus renewing their shape. The whole process is strenuous and some crabs may die going through it.

Once emerged, they are soft and will remain so for at least 12 hours. That’s when they are most desirable to eat. During the next 12 to 24 hours, they start the process of hardening, called the paperback phase where they are flexible and somewhat crinkly. They are still pretty tasty at this point but not as tender. The following 24 to 36 hours, they will get a complete hard shell – still enjoyable, just a bit more work to eat because humans don’t digest hard shells very well. If you happen to catch a crab when its shell is still soft, it will remain that way as the hardening process stops once they leave the water.

However, not all crabs should be captured and eaten. Catching male crabs, providing they are large enough, usually a minimum of 4 ½ inches, is acceptable, but catching female crabs is another story. To determine if the crab is male or female, look at the crab’s underside. A male crab retains a point that resembles a rocket and that never changes. The female crab has a diamond shape on her underside until her last shedding when it changes to a half moon shape with a small crest on the center circular side of the half moon. With this change, she is able to reproduce. A male will sense this and cradle the female to protect her. When you see this couple joined together, it is called a doubler. The male wraps his legs around the female leaving his swimmers free to move and his claws out for defense. The male will continue to protect or cradle the female until her shell is hard and she can safely hatch her eggs. Once she lays her eggs, she dies.

While males can always be kept when caught, it is a good practice to return mature females back to the water to preserve the species. In fact, it is illegal to capture a female if she is bearing eggs, which is evident by her orange underside, or orange sponge bag. As a visitor or a local, enjoy your crabs as well as your days crabbing. Hopefully, you will seize that window of opportunity and be able to sauté a soft shell crab for dinner soon. —Rena DiNeno

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The larger shedder crab on top shows how much the crabs can grow compared to the smaller exoskeleton of the bottom crab. Mark Simmons photo

Marine Science

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When I was a young kid, I used to look at clouds and try to identify shapes and faces and animals in them. Later on, in my middle age years,

I would do the same with potato chips. Of course, these childish, immature habits disappear as we mature, right? Now that I am in my late sixties, I find enjoyment in much more intelligent pursuits. I look for shapes and faces and animals in pieces of driftwood!

When I walk the beaches of LBI, I don’t always have a goal of finding any particular thing. On some days, moon snails and whelks are scattered all over the beach. The next time, I might find driftwood but few shells.

I have plenty of large intricately weathered and shaped pieces of driftwood, but my favorites are the ones pictured on this page that resemble something else. None of the pieces here have been shaped or altered, just cleaned up in a few cases and tung oiled in others. The trick to finding these treasures? Walk slowly, look closely at everything, and flip over what you see.

For example, the back side of the piece resembling Edvard Munch’s expressionist masterpiece, "The Scream," looks like junk. If you’re

going to find treasures in the sand, you have to investigate!

This brings me to the best part of beachcombing – your imagination. In your view, you may have found a piece of sea glass that looks like a heart, or a broken whelk’s shell that looks like a flower, or a piece of driftwood that looks like a dinosaur’s head. No matter that no one seems to agree with you. No one else has to see the same thing you do. You only have to make one person happy when you beachcomb: yourself.

So, I hope I’ve inspired some other mature adults to find a way to relive their childlike fascination with the simplicity and beauty of nature and its ability to stimulate our

imagination. Remember, you’re not looking for shells and rocks and wood, you’re looking for hearts and sand castles and flowers. —Photography and text by Frank Grasso

Marine Science

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50 & Counting

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Rick Baldt has been coming to LBI all of his life. His family always rented, and

all of his adult life he searched LBI for the perfect summer home to buy for his family. He looked at new architecture, which wasn’t what he wanted. In January 2014, he and his childhood friend, builder Robby Maines, looked at a lot with the thought of building the family’s dream home. This didn’t work out either. His daughter, sensing her father’s frustration, sent him a picture of a house she found online in the historic district of Ship Bottom. Rick and his wife Beth drove down the next day from Moorestown, New Jersey to look at it. Their dream home had to be livable and having a history would be a bonus. This home would be a family home for Rick, Beth, their three daughters and their families.

When they walked into what is now the living area and saw a lamp made from an anchor – a Baldt anchor, they felt that serendipity had brought them to this house. Rick’s great grandfather, Frederick Baldt, was the inventor of the Baldt anchor that is still used today on Navy ships.

Before the Coast Guard, there were Life Saving Stations. With many shoals and dangerous inlets surrounding LBI, Life Saving Stations were crucial. There were several Life Saving Stations along the New Jersey coast from Sandy Hook to Cape May, including six on LBI. This property is the only one that still remains on the Island and is located in the historic district in Ship Bottom. Ship Bottom “grew up” around this property because there was a means to communicate with the mainland and there were many fishermen’s bungalows surrounding it.

The Lifesaving Station wasn’t always at its present location. It was originally located on the dune and moved off the dune to its present location in 1906. It became a private residence in the early 1920s.

The structure was built in 1871, yet some accounts have it dating back to 1849. The building has no insulation and during some recent remodeling revealed wood under the siding from shipwrecks. Life Saving Stations were painted red so that ships in distress could see them. Many neighbors still refer to it as the Red House. Local lore also indicates it was a “House of Refuge” because people knew there was always a can of biscuits, a cot and fresh water.

The original dining room with an old wooden table and 14 chairs is in the first room you see when entering the house from the screened-in porch. There is a storage bench along one wall that is flanked by two built-in storage cupboards. Rick showed me one of Beth’s recent finds: a place setting for four with US Lifesaving Station printed on the plate, bowl and cup. The kitchen can be seen at the end of the dining room that also has a smaller table and built-in seating with storage.

Off of the dining room, through double doors, there is a large living area that once housed the boats and equipment used in rescues. Hooks remain on the ceiling where equipment for the rescue boats used to hang. Strategically placed at the southwest end of the room is a fireplace that

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replaced doors where equipment could be moved in and out. Two outside lights are mounted on one wall in the living room. A nautical scene is enclosed on that same wall in what was once an old fish tank.

Behind a door in the dining room are stairs that lead to the second floor. This part of the house is still a work in progress where Rick is working to return the walls to the original beadboard. At the top of the stairs there is a large room with six beds; three bunks along each of the two long walls. Under each bed is a built in drawer. This was where the Life Saving Station crewmen bunked. Rick and Beth now refer to this room as the “grandchildren’s quarters.” They have five grandchildren. Their son-in-law, Ian can sometimes be found sleeping in the sixth bed. There are two additional bedrooms on this level, nicknamed “the fishbowl” because of the nine windows in that room and the captain’s quarters at the opposite end. Rick and Beth have their bedroom off the dining room on the first floor.

As with all homes and older ones in particular, there are always fixes and improvements to be made. The Baldts have replaced windows and cedar siding and installed new heating and central air conditioning. The next project will be plumbing. Rick is retired and does many of the projects himself. He spends half of his time here working on renovation projects while Beth, who is a speech pathologist, spends as much time as she can enjoying their home on LBI.

The former owner had an unusual request: Would the Baldts be willing to allow renters who had rented for 50 years to still rent during the summer of 2014? Rick and Beth agreed to the request.

Our tour ended at the same side screened-in porch where Rick pointed out an old drying rack on the shutter for a window that will remain original.

Rick says that Beth, who is the voice of reason, needed to think about purchasing this property. The anchor was certainly a sign, and there were also the built-in beds for their grandchildren. As though that wasn’t enough, she walked to the beach past the fishermen’s cottages and cried tears of joy. She discovered a yoga studio a short walk from the house. “Four shore signs” played a huge part in Rick and Beth’s future, and today more than ever, they know that this is exactly where they’re supposed to be!

Although this house is not a typical beach cottage, what is obvious is that the Baldts have found a home where they can make memories that anchor them to the legacy of the Ship Bottom Life Saving Station. —Vickie VanDoren and Diane Stulga. Photography by Sara Caruso

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David L. Bonanni, President • [email protected]: (609) 586-4300 • Cell: (609) 306-1814 • Fax: (609) 588-9468


 #1 in Commercial Real Estate!

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Left to Right: Steve LaMarco, Tom Smith, Laura Klink, Rick Zanes,Kimberly Muldoon, Greg Swift, Keith Stokes, Calla Aniski, Dan Masters, Sam Candio, Nora Covert, Ryan Connolly and Jonny Skolnick. Kirk Jarvis photo

Kirk Jarvis photo

Kirk Jarvis photo

Lady Lifeguard Ann Lutz circa. 1958

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50 & Counting

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Future lifeguard Cecilia poses with sisters Krista and Kelsie Jensen • Marjorie Amon photo

Kirk Jarvis photo

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Howard in the kitchen

Lisa Pricilla (first from left), Brenda Eckland (second from left), and Janet Meredith (fifth from left).

Kevin's parents Jackie and King Sparks

The restaurant circa 1950

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Kevin Sparks looks back at the history of his family's restaurant. Marjorie Amon photo

A sense of warmth, comfort, and memories overwhelmed me as I entered the kitchen door of Howard’s Restaurant in Beach Haven Terrace. Howard’s has been a family business

for over 60 years.

Howard Sparks and his wife Ginny moved to Holgate from Collingswood, New Jersey in the 1940s with their son Kingston. Howard, an avid fisherman and carpenter, had been in the dry cleaning and trucking business. His love for both fishing and cooking made it an easy decision when the Bert’s luncheonette was for sale. Howard made an offer and opened his own restaurant. A countertop, few tables, jukebox and pinball machine defined the restaurant in 1950. He put his carpentry experience to use and performed repairs and renovations over the years. When Howard passed away suddenly at the age of 48 in 1966, Kingston took over the restaurant.

Kingston managed the business for many years until his son Kevin Sparks, the current owner took over. Kevin began working in the restaurant in 1983 and is the third generation to run the restaurant. Kevin’s eyes light up when he recalls the family in their younger days, playing in the restaurant and serving each other crackers and soda filled with sugar packets. He vividly remembers peeling mounds of shrimp every day. His great grand-father, George, positioned a TV in the restaurant’s kitchen so the staff could watch Flyers games. George also hosted spelling bees for the staff, challenging them with his favorite two words: mayon-naise and Worcestershire Sauce.

Kevin said the wait staff back then required the girls to work the dining room and the boys to work the kitchen. Kevin became the first waiter in the 1990s. His parents worked seven days a week. One of his mother’s favorite traditions was to make a London broil dinner at the start of each summer season. After going away

to Drew University in New Jersey, Kevin moved to Colorado for a year. Kevin began to miss the LBI lifestyle.

Kevin met his wife Lara when he returned to New Jersey in 1995 and they married in 1998. Being newly married and a new father was an inspiration for him to take the family business more seri-ously and to fall in love with cooking. He purchased the restaurant in 2010. The restaurant received a letter from the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office for its signature dish, French Fried Lobster.

It is well on its way to becoming a household name on LBI. He smiled warmly as he spoke of the wonderful staff throughout the

years that have come and gone. Some still return, entering through the kitchen door, smiling

and ask his father, “Hey, King, remember me?” Other staff are still considered family whenever they return. There are 45 staff members here today.

Kevin has made another addition to How-ard’s Restaurant called El Swell and it serves Swell Fish Tacos. His passion for fish and

Mexican food inspired him to open a place where he could marry Mexican recipes with

creativity and fun. El Swell is a not-so-tradi-tional Mexican restaurant that blends a Mexican

beach taqueria and American surf culture. It is located on the site of the old take-out building.

Old black and white photographs adorn the walls of Howard’s, which overlooks the marina. A collage in the dining room of the restaurant shows the many changes that took place over the past sixty years. In the 1980s, a second story was added to the restau-rant that seats 186 patrons.

Howard’s Restaurant has never taken reservations, yet without reser-vations, “Sparks” still fly at this mainstay of the island. Thank you, Kevin. —Diane Stulga. Photography courtesy of Sparks family.

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Between 1942 and 1945, the threat of German invasion brought great concern to states located on the East Coast of the United States. Reported attacks on U.S. naval ships

by the infamous German U-boats occurred up and down the East Coast, even reaching into the Gulf of Mexico. During this time of trepidation, our backyard transformed from a sandbox into a battleground.

Fully-clad soldiers scoured the beaches among sunbathers. These army men would have a route they patrolled by foot. However, the apprehension of whether or not this method of using foot soldiers was efficient enough led to the addition of highly trained canines and horses. No longer did patrols of the sandy shore occur by foot; instead, troops rode on horseback. German shepherds accompanied guards around the Coast Guard station which was located on 26th Street in Ship Bottom.

Although the danger of Germans landing at our doorstep seemed to be solved, there was still the discomfort of U-boats lurking offshore. Despite the Coast Guard station already being equipped with a tower to spot enemy submarines, it was felt that the tower’s line of sight was inept. As a result, a larger tower was constructed directly on the beach for the sole purpose of spotting these underwater predators.

Throughout the four-year period, one such U-boat did appear. U-869 was spotted off New Jersey’s coastline in 1945. There is controversy surrounding this vessel and the circumstances of its sinking. Initially, the USS Fowler and French vessel L’Indiscret were given credit for sinking U-869 by means of magnetic depth charges. This has since been proven wrong because of the false assumption of the location of the German submarine. It is still in debate whether or not a torpedo’s faulty acoustic system sent it cir-cling around back to U-869 and causing its own demise or if it was sunk by depth chargers. According to the Coast Guard’s records, the USS Howard D. Crow is credited with sinking U-869 with its hedgehog depth charges on February 11, 1945.

With the end of World War II, the need for military presence on Long Beach Island was no longer necessary. Troops and Coast Guard officers disbanded from their station in Ship Bottom back to their place of origin. The mules and horses that loyally aided in patrolling the beaches, crowded outside the 26th Street Coast Guard Station and were sold off to islanders. Finally, the tower was taken down, removing the last physical evidence of the war’s impact on the area. —Ryan Marchese. Photography courtesy of the late Ann Kendall, longtime resident of 26th Street in Ship Bottom.

Beach Patrol An LBI Sandbox for Soldiers During WWII

50 & Counting

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Open All YearSales, Service & Smiles

418 Long Beach BlvdShip Bottom, NJ

(609) 494-1991

Family owned for over 55 years, Walters Bikes is LBI’s only full service bike shop. Pedego Electric Bikes • Cannondale • Mountain Bikes • Road Bikes

Hybrids Cruisers • Townies • BMX Bikes • Trek • Schwinn • Giant • Eastern & More!

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When Watson F. Pharo talks of his childhood on LBI, he is sure to mention Christmas in Beach Haven. Watson’s eyes light up as he describes the Christmases of old.

Christmas is a most wonderful time everywhere, but for a child growing up in Beach Haven, it was special!

For the grown-ups, there was Gerber’s Department Store. Ann Gerber knew what everyone wanted and even their sizes. Leave it up to her and you knew there would be no returns, or regifting, just holidays thanks. For the children, there was a special treat. After opening their gifts, the children all went to the Colonial Theater to watch cartoons. As they were leaving, the children received a gift from the owner, Mr. Colmer and family. Each child received a bag containing an apple, an orange and a chocolate bar! Then the Beach Haven Fire Company would load all the children onto the fire truck for a ride all over Beach Haven.

Christmas has always been and still is special to Watson F. Only now it is Watson F. who is creating memories for others. Every year since 1987, people eagerly await their annual Christmas card

from Watson F. These are not your usual store-bought cards, but rather specially designed cards depicting the familiar and past views mainly of Beach Haven. Done in sepia tones, the front of the cards feature photographs taken by his nephew, Jon Dane Sprague. The interiors are graced by beautiful greetings written by local ministers and others.

However, it is the back of the cards that are special to Watson F. After doing some research, Watson F. lists the history of the building or other interesting historical information. Watson F. wants to keep the history of the Island alive. Over the years, the cards have featured: Beach Haven Library, his mother, Eleanor E. Pharo, Beach Haven School, Old Barney, Island Baptist Church, Surflight Theatre, St. Innocent's Episcopal Church, the flora of the Island, Kynett Methodist Church, the old Beach Haven Railroad Station, a decoy carved by his father, Watson Pharo and more. Whether you have been naughty or nice, if you are on Watson F.’s list, you will get a wonderful Christmas memory! —Pat Dagnall and Ellen Hammonds

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Above left: The 2012 Beach Haven School card was the best received. Note the train to the left of the school.

Above right: The 1998 card was late so it became the New Year 1999 card. Watson F. is pictured with his father Watson Pharo.

Left: Painting of "Old Barney" by A.E. Backus, commissioned by Wat-son F. and hung in the mayor’s office at Beach Haven Borough Hall for several years.

Below: American Brant carved by Captain Watson Pharo. The inscrip-tion on the bottom of the decoy reads "My Last Brant Made Dec. 1986. Watson Pharo For My Wife Eleanor." They were married 54 years.

Opposite page: The members of the Beach Haven Volunteer Fire Co. No. 1, Circa 1924, the oldest fire company in Ocean County. This card is dedicated to Charles L. Pinnix, Sr., the oldest living member of the Beach Haven Volunteer Fire Company, and to all the men and women who have volunteered with the BHVFC since its inception.

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The shack, post Superstorm Sandy • Marjorie Amon photo

Pat Gawronski photo

Remembering the Shack

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Katrina Karvan • Marjorie Amon photo

At first, this painting looks like any other watercolor. However, the shack’s cedar shakes are made of pieces of a wasp nest cut

into tiny squares with embroidery scissors and carefully glued into place. The striations in the squares resemble the sea worn surface

of the real shakes. Cindy Andes artwork

Lighhouse International Film Festival volunteers make their way

to the shack • Cheryl Kirby photo


Shack, you have sunk too deepinto the marsh to ever come back.One can more easily see the moonand stars through your roof. Emptied of all your duck hunters, the dark holes of your windows stare at the sky.The bay wind uses your studsfor bone-boards to whistle a tune.An aroma of salt marsh fills you.Anchored to the mud and a decayed past, you still shine in the mindsof those who zoom by you on their way to summer. An artist paints you.

—Frank Finale

Speakeasy • Marjorie Amon photoTruck parked by the shack in 1967.Merry Simmons photo

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Charlee Paulsworth’s roots on LBI go back just beyond the infamous September storm of 1944. That's when her father's love for fishing drew her family to LBI and they

purchased a summer home on Cape Cod Lane in what is now Long Beach Township.

In fact, Charlee and her mother were home alone when the 1944 storm, named the Great Atlantic Hurricane, hit LBI. She recalls being stranded in their home that September day as the winds blew the icebox across the front porch. That morning, she remembers begging her father to let her join him on the ride back to the city where he worked.

She was unaware of the impending storm, but she was fright-ened at the thought of him leaving her. Nevertheless, she and her mother weath-ered the storm with a few neighbors in the area. Winds of up to 125 miles per hour destroyed homes, and waves washed away piers and boardwalks up and down the Jersey Shore.

In high school and college, Charlee worked as a lifeguard on LBI. In fact, in 1956, she was one of the Island’s few female lifeguards. She guarded on Taylor Avenue in Beach Haven. Her lifeguarding ca-reer was relatively un-eventful. She admits to never having performed any heroic rescues, but the experience did provide her with lots of fun days, lots of friends, and lots of memories of the great times they had together. She also taught children to swim at the Beach Haven bay beach.

After guarding during the day, Charlee would go to Kapler’s Phar-macy to work at the soda fountain. Even at an early age, Charlee liked to diversify.

In college, Charlee’s love for sports inspired her to pursue a degree in physical education; however, her interests in the shore led her to

switch her major to biology.

After college, she worked for the U.S. Department of Agriculture in the Virgin Islands. As beautiful as the islands were, she decided to return to the U.S. to work on a special project researching and farming clams in a lab on Cape Cod, Massachusetts.

Although Charlee enjoyed her career working in research, there was another hidden talent that needed to emerge – fashion design. In the early 1960s, she started to design clothing. Eventually,

her artistic talents began to pay off. She developed a thriving business, design-ing clothing and costumes for New York City clients in television produc-tions like "The Edge of Night."

After some consider-able globetrotting, Charlee once again decided to return to LBI. Continuing on with her clothing design business, she acquired customers up and down LBI, both visitors and locals. In fact, so many people liked Charlee’s designs that she decided to get into the retail end of the business.

From her small house in Mud City, where she and her husband Wimpy lived, she opened two retail stores, selling both

original and manufactured clothing designs. Bee’s Knees was her first store, and then Ms. Beehaven followed shortly thereafter. The free-spirited couple spent their summers at the shore and their win-ters traveling, usually to places where Wimpy could surf. Wimpy was not only one of the original surfers from LBI, but he also was the first to build surfboards here, even before the famous Ron Jon’s Surf Shop. Wimpy and Charlee did not stay together, but they remained in close contact until his passing in 1983. Charlee main-tained her retail and fashion design businesses until the mid 1980s, but, once again, she left LBI to travel the globe.

Wimpy and Charlee

Looking Back

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Upon returning to the Island, Charlee took a job with The Sandpaper as a sales representative. Her expertise and vibrant personality helped to expand the publication into other areas of Ocean and Cape May counties. After 10 years of blaz-ing trails in that arena, though, Charlee finally retired.

Charlee currently lives in Tuckerton, but she freely admits that LBI is her true love.* Charlee has circled the globe over the years, but there was always a special place in her heart for LBI. —Rena DiNeno. Photography courtesy of Charlee Paulsworth

*I am sad to say that since our interview and original publishing of Charlee’s story in 2009, she passed away in February 2014. I met Charlee in 1982 when I first moved to LBI and she was a personal and dear friend. Although we did not keep steady contact after Superstorm Sandy, I thought of her often and shared stories about her with mutual friends and acquaintances. Both Charlee and Wimpy have left their mark on LBI and will not be forgotten by those whose lives they've touched. Charlee Paulsworth

Book available at Things A Drift in Ship Bottom, NJ • www.beachcottagepress.com

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Homage to the Master: Student Marvin Levitt sculpts his mentor Boris Blai.

My relationship with Dr. Boris Blai, the founder of the Long Beach Island Foundation of the Arts and Sciences (aka LBI Foundation) in Loveladies, started some seventy

years ago. It is a relationship that literally changed my life and set me on the course I believe I was truly destined to follow. Just as the residents of LBI should be forever grateful for the gift Dr. Blai be-queathed them in the form of the LBI Foundation, I will be forever grateful for the opportunity he gave me to realize my dreams.

I grew up in a blue collar neighborhood called Logan in Philadel-phia. It was a neighborhood of row houses, and everybody knew each other. After school, we played in the street until dinnertime, then did our homework on the kitchen table. Traditional academ-ics, however, were not my focus. I would rush through my assignments so I could go to my cellar workshop. I was a fortunate person with an extraordi-nary gift. I could duplicate anything I saw. Boat and airplane models were first, then drawing, painting, and finely carving Ivory soap bars into animals followed. Art was my emphasis, and all other pursuits usu-ally were pushed into the background.

My mother under-stood and appreci-ated my gift and empathized with my single-minded focus on artistic learning, but my teachers at the Birney Elementary School disagreed with this pedagogical approach. I recall, for instance, when a teacher demanded my mother come to school to discuss my disinterested attitude. She claimed I seldom participated and I was distracted, always had my nose in my notebook. She brought up the example of our study of the story of Washington crossing the Delaware River and expressed great concern for how I seemed incurious and did not participate in the class discussion. She also mentioned that my behavior had been noticed by my classmates and that I had been chastised and called a “dummy.” My mother tried to offer up her best defense of me, explaining to the teacher that children have many ways of learning and that their talents and interests do not always conform to a traditional curricular approach. Then, my mother opened my notebook – and there it

was! Across two pages was my rendition of the famous painting of Washington crossing the Delaware River. Washington was stand-ing, the Revolutionary Flag (with the correct number of stars) was flying and the soldiers were pushing on through the ice. It was all there. Once, again, my mother had seen what others had failed to see.

My mother’s quest to find the proper educational setting for me was now fully underway, and, ultimately, the quest led us to Oak Lane Country Day School, a school rooted in progressive education and in search of gifted students. The school was connected to Temple University and was used as a academic lab and demonstration school for teacher education. Most impor-

tantly, however, the head of the school’s art department was Dr. Boris Blai. We decided to apply for admission to Oak Lane Day School and, to my good fortune, an interview was scheduled with Dr. Blai.

So, one day, I gath-ered up my drawings and girded myself for this new and anxiety-producing experience. The room was small and crowded, and I felt as if I were a defendant being led to trial. But my fears were soon al-

layed. Once Dr. Blai showed his brilliant, welcoming smile and his friendly, casual way, all was well, and our interview turned into the first of so many wonderful conversations I would have with him through the years. We spoke of art and, in particular, of my experi-ence in art. Did I take lessons? How did I learn to draw? He even asked me to draw a profile of him right then and there. I felt as if I had been delivered over to my very own Promised Land.

Dr. Blai was a short, powerfully built man, with a heavy Russian accent, and he used his hands to help express his meaning. After looking at my work, Boris, who at the time was still Dr. Blai to me, offered me a limited time enrollment at the school. I loved the school. I could go to art class every day. The art room was a large studio at the end of the building. There was a wood shop, a print-ing and painting area, and a vast open area in which to undertake

Looking Back

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large projects. For a budding artist like me, it was like giving a kid the run of a candy store. I was now in my element. At the end of the trial period at Oak Lane, the school offered me a half scholar-ship. During the depression of the 1930s, however, there was not a lot of extra money for this kind of luxury, and we had to pass on this wonderful opportunity. Before I left, though, Dr. Blai said to my mother, “He is an artist, don’t make him a carpenter!” He then shook my hand and said in his heavily accented English, “Do you know vat you didt?” He was serious. “Dis handt touched the handt of Rodin! Remember, through me, you are like a grandson of the great sculptor.” Boris Blai had served as apprentice to Auguste Rodin.

In lieu of furthering my studies at Oak Lane, I went on to attend Jay Cook Junior High School and Simon Gratz High School, where I excelled in art under the tutelage of Robert Goldman. At graduation, the Art Scholarship at Temple University’s Tyler School of Fine Arts was awarded to me. On my first day at Tyler, I had an orientation and a meeting with a number of its professors: Dr. Herman Gundershimer, an art historian, Dr. Alex Ables, a painter, Raphael Sabatini, a sculptor, Rudy Staffel, a ceramisist, and last, but not least, the newly-appointed Dean of the Tyler School, Dr. Boris Blai.

When I walked into the room, Dean Blai jumped off his chair, exclaiming “De buoy, de buoy!” (i.e. “The boy, the boy!”). He proceeded to tell the others of our former relationship at Oak Lane and then assured all who were gathered there that he had known with certainty that one day he would be seeing me at his new school, Tyler. Under Boris’ guidance, I received a wonderful art ed-ucation during my tenure as a student at the Tyler School of Fine Arts, and I will always remember this time as perhaps the most formative time in my life, artistic or otherwise. My first experience with Dr. Blai’s artistic and cultural gem, the LBI Foundation, be-gan with a full time summer job there in 1957. I suppose that this was a relationship that was meant to be, as I taught sculpture there for well over 50 years. In fact, I retired from the LBI Foundation in 2011. As always, much of the energy and understanding that I drew upon in my teaching at the LBI Foundation came from my wonderful relationship with its founder, and my mentor, Dr. Blai.

In the course of my career, I also taught at two of my alma maters, the Oak Lane Country Day School and the Tyler School of Fine Arts. Again, in each of these endeavors, Boris Blai was my men-tor and inspiration. Dr. Boris Blai was truly a visionary. He had passion and a desire to bring art into everyone’s life and worked tirelessly to realize these goals. His efforts on behalf of bringing the experience of art to the world seemed to never cease. Best of all, he was an innovator in art education.

After World War II, for example, he went to Fort Dix in New Jersey and established a program that worked with disabled vet-erans through art therapy. He founded the Tyler School of Fine Arts at Temple University. Next, he founded the LBI Foundation and served for many years as its Creative Director. Additionally, he established art classes and programs at a number of colleges in Florida. He was an artistic force of nature. Boris Blai was my inspiration, mentor, and friend. I am truly blessed to have been touched by his magic and, of all his exceptional gifts, I will always remember his ability to reach out and enlighten everyone he met. —Marvin Levitt

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Looking Back

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Madeline Rodgers on stage after winning, 1961.

Miss Magic Long Beach Island Barbara Spraque was presented to then Governor Richard Hughs, September 6, 1969.

Barbara Sprague, 1969

Bonnie Harris Hutchison, 1972

Carolsue Jones Cummings, 1964

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Who remembers the Miss Magic Long Beach Island pageant? One of the highlights of the summer was the Annual Lifeguards Ball. The Long Beach township

Beach Patrol sponsored the event, which was held the first weekend in September. At this ball, a young woman of good character and beauty was selected to represent the Island as Miss Long Beach Island. In 1958, the Long Beach Island Board of Trade assumed sponsorship with Mayor Frank H. Klein as director, and Miss Magic Long Beach Island was born.

My year as Miss Magic Long Beach Island was 1961. It was a wonderful and exciting time. I was a third generation islander living in North Beach Haven. My grandmother, Annie Godshall, first came to the island in the late 1920s. That summer I was working as a car hop at the Jet Stream which is currently Stefano's. That year was filled with many gala events, parades and award dinners. I even met the governor of New Jersey! Mayor Klein and I were invited by Governor Robert B. Meynor to his office in Trenton, NJ.

My pageant day began at the Long Beach Island Board of Trade in Ship Bottom. We started out in a colorful motorcade of six Cadillac convertibles, covering the island from Barnegat Light to Beach Haven. Our motorcade stopped in each town where we were met with encouraging words and gifts from the mayors and local business people. The final stop was the Sea Shell Motel where we were served a light supper. After dinner, we were off to Wida's Brant Beach Hotel. First the bathing suit competition (no bikinis allowed), then the evening dress and finally, the personality questions. I was feeling anxious. To win this title and the opportunity to represent the island I loved so much was my dream.

I heard my name announced, felt the crown being placed on my head and the Miss Magic ribbon placed around me. It was accompanied with an armful of roses and they wrapped me with a beautiful red velvet cape, it didn’t seem real. As I began my walk down

the runway, I felt my crown slipping and I dropped my prize money! My dad saw this and rescued it for me. That is how my reign as Miss Magic Long Beach Island began.

Over the years I was privileged to be involved in many more important events, such as the first annual Long Beach Island Day (June 29 1968). We celebrated with a parade and had a presentation of the Island flag to the New Jersey park officials. In 1976, I was honored to be a judge at that year’s Miss Magic Pageant, the final one. Nowadays I spend my time at home in North Beach Haven. My grandchildren like to look at pictures and hear stories of the Island the way it used to be. —Madeline Rodgers

We would like to hear from all former Miss Magic Long Beach Island queens so we may tell your story. Please send your story to [email protected]

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Tumble Town entrance Tumble Town

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“Hey Mildred! We’re heading for the beach!” It was 10am, a quiet, dazzling summer morning in 1949. My mother had called to her friend two lots down,

through bayberry bushes and poison ivy.

Clothes washed in the small wringer machine on the back porch fluttered lazily in the soft breeze. The little red wagon had al-ready been loaded with our supplies for the day: metal shovels, small rusty tin buckets, a green canvas umbrella, some towels, a glass-lined metal thermos of tea. Lunch would be peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on fresh white bread wrapped in wax paper. Because preservatives weren’t used, my older brother had stopped at Scottie's Market on our corner (now Surf City Pizza on 11th St.) because yesterday’s leftovers would be moldy, victims of the heat.

Off we went, up to the beach for the whole day. My older brother would pull the heavy wagon, the other pushing at the back, while Mom carried the toddler. I would twirl and dance about, deftly catching whatever fell off the wagon.

Beach time hasn’t changed much since then. Sixty years later, kids still dig for sand crabs, tattle on a brother, tumble in the surf, whine for candy, bury each other in the sand, squabble over the toys, and hopefully nap under a damp towel. Accessories and sun protection has changed. Back then, the adults aimed to get really tan with a mixture of baby oil and iodine, while the kids were lathered with Noxema from the blue jar and zinc oxide for our lips and under our eyes.

By 4pm, weary and scorched, with sand inside our suits, the gang headed back down the street, wet towels dragging behind the topsy-turvy wagon. In 1949, cottages were simple with few amenities. If the pan under the ice box hadn’t been emptied earlier, water would be running across the floor. If the screen door hadn’t been latched, we’d be sent off with metal mesh swatters to attack greenhead flies and mosquitoes. Before using the backyard privy, Mom would scoot out any toads that hopped in. Black tar,

still littering the sand and washed ashore from sunken war ships would be scrubbed off our bodies using a bucket of kerosene. Then, hopefully, there was some

warm water left in the 50 gallon tank on the porch to rinse off our sandy bottoms in the wash tub.

Being tired from the hot sun, I can’t recall what was fixed for dinner on the bottle gas stove in the corner. However,

I do remember the sweet ocean smell of my nightgown brought in off the line. There were two double beds, a crib

and four army cots in the big upstairs room with colorful movie posters as insulation. I could hear the surf tumble on

the shore and a car trundle over the flat wooden bridge. My father would arrive on Friday for the weekend. Lying there by

my brothers drifting off to sleep, I often heard, “Hey, Mildred, the kids are asleep. Come over for a beer...” —Photography and

text by Carol FreasPage 98 • Echoes of LBI

Looking Back

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It’s so gratifying to sit back and think of those good ol’ days, when we loaded up all of our household must-haves and headed to Long Beach Island for a week or two, or three, or

the entire summer. You remember all the exciting little details, like the sounds of the rickety wooden Causeway signaling the begin-ning of summer as you left the mainland and crossed over to the Island. Perhaps you even remember the feel of the spray of the waters from the bay below, jumping through your open windows (no air condition-ing in those days!) as you completed the last mile or so of your ride to LBI.

Arlene Fine of Morristown recalls that parents and kids to enjoyed the freedom found only on the Island. “Your first memory was placing your key into the ancient lock, turning it, opening the door, and enter-ing a pine-paneled world, where everything smelled musty.” She remembers how the first order of business was a trip to the Acme for staples like milk, butter, eggs, peanut butter, jelly, baloney, cheese, bacon, hot dogs, and YooHoo. She also recalls how pure and simple life was on the Island for the boys and girls of summer. “Kids could ride their bikes in the street. Everyone walked barefoot. You ate, slept, and hung out at the beach. Some kids took turns climbing the flagpole, while others gathered each evening to await the arrival of the sprayman. It now seems a little odd to think of what we were breathing in, as this old jeep drove up and down each and every block spraying DDT or some other horrid com-bination to get rid of the ‘No-See-Ums,’ with a pack of little kids running behind it.”

Bob Tinervin of Little Egg Harbor is another treasure trove of Island memories. He remembers the sprayman’s name. “He worked for the town of Surf City. Part of his job was spraying DDT

throughout the neighborhoods. His name, as I recall, was Sam Curren. Can you believe my mother actually opened the windows so the spray would come into our house?”

Tinervin recalls how no one worried about calories, calcium, cholesterol, or crime in those days. “You could leave your bike on any block on the Island, and return for it whenever.” The level

of playtime sophistication was low, but plenty of fun activities were enjoyed by all: flying your kite, searching for sand crabs, and, of course, collecting shells. The tinkle of the bells from the ice cream truck interrupted everyone’s afternoon nap and sent the kids wild with excitement. “Some kids were even lucky enough to hitch a ride to Stewart’s Root Beer for a glass of bubbly, with vanilla ice cream.”

Tinervin fondly recalls how his family first came to the Island, when he was a young, innocent lad of 14 years. “My dad, Harry, was on the threshold of retirement in 1956. After discussions with my mother, Maggie, they decided they’d like to move down to Long Beach Island. Honestly, they really never even dreamed of Long Beach Island until my late sister, Lois McCarthy of Westfield, attended a party there. She

came back home and couldn’t stop talking about the place. She kept telling my parents, ‘You’ve got to visit Long Beach Island!’”

The search for their new home began with a trip to Zacharaie Real Estate. “Knowing Zacharaie was the premier real estate agent, my family paid him a visit. Being both of German descent, my dad and Mr. Zacharaie got along famously. He actually told my dad he could have any lot he wanted in Surf City. They measured approxi-mately 50 by 100 feet and cost $1,200.” After choosing the third lot from the bay on 5th Street in Surf City, the Tinervin family

Looking Back

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Bob Tinervin and his nephews Roy (in middle) and Don Colton standing at Lazy Point in Surf City, the LBI bridge in the background.

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Beach Buddies: Bob Tinervin , Bobby Reiser, Tommy Coleman, Donny Goodlift, Jack O’Donnell, Paul Roberts, Jimmy Kelly, Billy Bush

finally made the big jump and began to live their dream of spending the rest of their lives in their Cape Cod style home at the shore.

At the time of the big move, young Tinervin was attending Thomas Jefferson Jr. High School in Eliza-beth, New Jersey. When their new home was ready, Bob transferred to Barnegat High School. “Of course, I was all excited about going to a new school at the shore. And to celebrate the occasion, my mom took me shopping for nice new pants, shirts, and shoes. But, coming home after my first day in my new school, I felt absolutely awful. I quickly informed my parents that we would have to go shopping again. ‘All the kids wear dungarees and engineering boots,’ I complained. The second day, I wore black engineering boots and dunga-rees. I was much happier.”

One of Tinervin’s first and most enduring memories is the way his family was so quickly accepted by the Surf City community. “It didn’t take long for everyone in town to become acquainted with our family. We hitchhiked everywhere, and could even depend on the police to offer us a ride. It was a small town environment where everyone knew everyone else.”

Bob Tinervin remembers a few things that were completely new to him...and uniquely LBI. “Kids living on the mainland were known as Stump Jumpers or Pineys. The kids living on the Island were known as Sand Fleas. We soon learned there were many different cultures attending the same school. At first, the kids from the Is-land hung out with one another, while the kids from the mainland stuck together. It was the many different activities that finally got us together.”

He also recalls gaining a new perspective on guns. “It seemed that everyone living down here had their own gun. My dad ordered my first shotgun from his Sears & Roebuck mail order catalogue. The gun was actually mailed to our local post office. I learned how to use my gun by taking a Safety Course at Southern Regional High School. A member of the NRA came to teach us gun safety rules. Believe it or not, shotguns were allowed on the school bus in those days. You could bring your gun to school on Thursday. The school provided the ammunition, which was kept secure in the office. Thursday was devoted to skeet shooting. You were allowed to place your gun inside your locker, and guess what? You were not required to lock your locker.”

These were not the only new customs the Tinervins had to learn. “Another interesting story involved my mom and clamming, which northerners like those of us who came from Union County knew

nothing about. After going clamming with my buddies, I brought a bucket of delicious “appetizers” home for dinner. Someone had already mentioned to my mother that clams had to be cleaned. She thought that meant she needed to scrub the outside of the clamshells. So, there was my mother, busy with her scrub brush, scrubbing the sand and dirt off of the clamshells.” But the Tine-rvins had come to LBI to live and learn. “I’m guessing one of my friends laughingly told his mom about my mom’s experience, and she kindly called and told her the easiest way to clean clams was to place them under running water,” says Bob, with a grin.

Bob explained how his father took to their new Island home. “My dad loved to surf cast. He made his own lures from the handles of my mother’s well-worn knives and forks. He’d cut the handle off the old knives and forks and drill a hole into the remaining handle. Then he’d attach striped bass hooks to the handle and go fishing. He managed to make a lot of his daily treasures by himself.”

Tinervin described one of the rituals known only to the Island’s year-round residents. “We were the third family living on 5th Street, year-round. Knowing that many of our summer friends had to leave the Island to return home for the winter season, we’d gather on the Causeway waving and yelling ‘Goodbye...come back soon!’” Certainly, things have changed in our world and on our Island since 1956, but some things, some very important things, have remained the same. As Bob Tinervin puts it, “To me, Long Beach Island will always be a friendly place, filled with Giants and Eagle fans...where everyone is comfortable saying, ‘Hello.’”—Millicent K. Brody. Photography courtesy of the Tinervin family.

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Back row left to right: Ottavio Lazzarato, Chelsea Stulga, Marcy Burns, Rena DiNeno, Ron Marr, Diane Roy, Robert Roy, Eileen Moon, Janice Burke, JoAnn Montrey, Gay Adelman, Patrice Albanese, Ed Heitman and Carol Freas. Front row left to

right: Donna Bradley, Diane Showenbach, Karen Larson, Merry Simmons and Arlene Schragger. Marjorie Amon photos

Ottavio Lazzarato, Ron Marr, Ed Heitman and Robert Roy

Ottavio Lazzarato and Carol FreasKaren Larson Diane and Robert Roy

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It’s not too late to escape!

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Why You Should Stay

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Sara Caruso photo

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Sometimes we need a specific reason to do what our hearts want over what our heads tell us to do. Like sneaking away to the beach for a long fall weekend. LBI has several reasons you should stay and

experience the glory of autumn down the shore.

September 12 & 13 is the annual Irish Festival at the Ship Bottom boat ramp. Kick up your heels and do a happy Irish jig right on the dock of the bay. On Oct 3 & 4, it’s the 27th Annual Chowderfest Weekend in Beach Haven. There is nothing better than listening to music, tasting all the white and red chowder you can handle and washing it down with a cold beer, all under a beautiful October sky. 

If chowder is not your thing, then spend the weekend at Things A Drift at the LBI Art and Sea Glass Festival, October 3 & 4 from 10am-3pm. Fun abounds with beautiful artwork and sea glass, capped off with the one and only Guinness World Record™ Conch Horn Blowing event.  The very next weekend, Oct 10 & 11 is the Jetty Clam Jam Surf Competition and the St. Francis of Assisi LBI 18-Mile Run.

Another favorite reason to stay is for the Oct 17 & 18 Lighthouse Challenge of New Jersey. Climb every lighthouse and see New Jersey at its best

The December 5 Annual Ship Bottom Christmas Parade is a local favorite and a wonderful way to join the community in an old fashioned Christmas tradition. And just before it is time to start dreaming of spring, February 7 is ready to shock you out of your cabin fever with Super Plunge Sunday for a winter dip in the Atlantic, if you dare. So don’t feel guilty about sneaking to LBI for an off season weekend away. There are plenty of reasons why you should stay. —Maggie O'Neill

Why You Should Stay

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Sara Caruso photoDiane Stulga photo

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Why You Should Stay

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Marjorie Amon photo

Diane Stulga photo

Denis Kirby photo

Diane Stulga photo

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Entering the guest room in my father’s house is like taking a sedative. It instantly calms me, particularly after the six-hour drive from my home in Massachusetts.

When my parents bought their house in Ship Bottom 15 years ago, after selling both our family home in suburban Philadelphia and their vacation home in Holgate, my sisters and I questioned their retirement arrangements on the Island. But we soon recognized my mother’s vision was clear and wise. She and dad nested here comfortably. So do I whenever visiting, which is not as often as I’d like. After the reunion hugs and kisses, I carry my bags into the twelve-by-twelve guest room and set my weekender onto the wooden luggage rack at the foot of the double bed. I remember thinking when Mom bought the rack years ago "Who’s going to use this?" I toss my jacket on the bed where two handmade pillows lay. One is a country craft doll that I stitched for Mom during one of the weekends in my twenties when I sat home without a date. Next to it is a pillow cross stitched with the ABCs by Mom when she sat home as an empty nester.

As I unpack, I scan the room to make sure nothing has changed. I lay my make-up case, jewelry, and hairbrush on the maple dresser opposite the bed. Mom used to thoughtfully place a tray there for my personal items. I miss that gentle act of hospitality from her. I kick off my shoes and push them under the side chair in the corner.

The guest room has offered me different refuge over the years. I first stayed here with my husband when we visited my parents with our young daughters, who would sleep upstairs. Then, I occupied the room alone when I helped Dad after his heart bypass operation and, again, after Mom’s stroke. I enjoyed reciprocating as caregiver, chef, and housekeeper. After those busy days, I found supreme comfort in the guest bed, collapsing from fatigue with an “ahhh.” It wasn’t how I imagined finally getting my own room in Mom and Dad’s house, but I appreciated it all the same.

My father still surprises me in the evening when I enter the temporary sanctuary after of an Island-filled day of walking,

The Guest Room shopping, and gardening to discover that he turned down the bed for me. His tender act of love moves me. My chest softens. As I lay in bed enveloped in a warm blanket, I take note of Mom’s touches: the floral valances, an antique mahogany shelf with little glass vases that she scored from yard sales, and a framed poem titled "Sleeping On An Island" that she spotted in a Beach Haven shop.

I sleep soundly in this guest room. Sometimes the wind howls and sometimes the rain pings the rooftop. Once in a while, I hear the awning or our American flag flapping against the wind and, other times, I hear the faint drum of traffic heading for the bridge a few blocks away. All these rhythmic sounds of the Island lull me into a peaceful slumber.

Occasionally, when I hear the deep muffle of Dad’s footsteps from above, it gives me the sense that Father Protector shields me. Yet, somehow I never hear him tiptoe down the stairs and open the front door to claim his newspaper before sunrise, as he takes care not to wake me. When I do awake, my body is fully rested with nary an ache and my skin glows a pinkish hue.

On a recent drive back home, I decided to refurnish my own guest room. Enough with the flowers and ribbons reflecting my daughters’ youth – they’ve grown up. Inspired by LBI, I styled the room with new curtains and a coverlet in the blue, green, and sand colors of the Island. I displayed my purchases from B&B: a striped chair lamp, a candle, and a tiled beach scene.

I placed starfish from Things A Drift against the panes of the triple window, facing the front of the house. The old vanity that Mom bargained for me at a LBI Museum yard sale back in the 1980s has a new coat of paint and is used daily by my daughters and me to dry and style our hair. Atop is a small bowl of golden beige stones I collected from the bay beach in Surf City.

Since Mom passed away and Dad no longer travels far, this cozy nook in my home reminds me of my home away from home. I lean in the doorway of my guest room every morning, gaze out the window, and recall the sense of comfort of the Island. —Joyce Poggi Hager

Sara Caruso photoA Shore Thing

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Last In

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Bruce Kerr photo

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Many of us have enjoyed the magic of hearing the sounds of the sea by simply holding a large shell to our ear and listening intently. But did you know that these shells are

capable of producing sounds in other ways? For centuries, many cultures have learned to create a variety of sounds by blowing into conch shells, using the results as signals, entertainment, or means of communication. And here on LBI, the ancient practice of conch blowing is alive and spreading!

We Islanders relish the sight of a beautiful sunset hovering over the Bay. It’s the perfect end to a day in Paradise. But Mark Simmons, a lifelong resident of Harvey Cedars, not only partakes in this custom from his backyard on Kinsey Cove, he also announces it to all his neighbors with an ancient call on his conch shell trumpet. Best of all, Mark is looking for others to share in this ritual. In fact, he would like to find enough participants to accompany him in an effort to set a new world record for the most participants in a conch orchestra!

Now retired, Mark and his wife Merry spend part of their winters in Florida where Mark discovered the musical magic of the conch shell ritual in Key Largo. On a winter’s visit there some 12 years ago, he witnessed nearly 200 participants competing to see who could hold a note longest while blowing into the apex of a conch shell. When done correctly, blowing into a conch shell will produce sounds similar to those of a trumpet or saxophone. In Key Largo, people anxiously await the nightly conch shell ritual. With much practice, Mark can now hold a note on his conch trumpet for up to 63 seconds. When interviewing Mark, I attempted to do the same, after he gave me a mini lesson on how to form my lips and how to grip the conch properly. Unfortunately, I was only able to produce an odd, but thankfully brief noise, somewhat like that of an ailing beagle. I could see immediately that much practice was needed to reach the level of expertise he has attained.

Mark’s neighbor across the Cove, Ginny White, looks forward to the nightly ritual, and other neighbors have started to share in this calling. At sunset, when Mark steps outside to say adieu to the day, he receives responses from other neighbors who share his trumpet-ing passion. Mark is hoping that if he can assemble enough people here on LBI who have learned to make music from a conch shell, they can not only rival the conch blowing contest he witnessed in Florida, but surpass it.

Conch shells are easily transformed into musical instruments by creating a hole in the apex, which is the oldest part of the shell (i.e. the place where the snail started growing). An alternative method is to make a hole in one of the whorls or spirals to the side of the spire, but that is less common. The history of using the conch as an instrument dates as far back as the Neolithic Era, long before the trumpet or saxophone were invented. Shell trumpets have been used through the centuries as a herald’s call for a multitude of events, such as daily prayers, military engagements, public gather-ings, dinners, and sporting events. —Rena DiNeno

In ancient times, the Greek god Triton, messenger of the sea, was said to calm the oceans by blowing his conch horn. Tribes of the Pacific and Caribbean use it during religious ceremonies. Cheryl Kirby photo

A Shore Thing

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