echoes of lbi spring 2010

Echoes of LB I

2010Long Beach Island Arts and Lifestyle Magazine

Inside: Guide to The Lighthouse International Film Festival

MagazineTM

The Artwork of Robert Sakson a.w.s.Robert Sakson is one of New Jersey’s most accomplished watercolorists. Robert is a Fellow of the American Watercolor Society and

the New Jersey Water- color Society. His love for Long Beach Island is reflected in his art, portraying local landmarks and historically significant buildings. His work is available at Things A Drift, 406 Long Beach Boulevard, Ship Bottom, 609-361-1668.

Publisher’s Note

Welcome to the second issue of Echoes of LBI! I cannot thank everyone enough for the very warm

reception of the first issue. I’ve had such a great time researching and meeting new people,

reconnecting with old friends, and learning about LBI history through the eyes of others. You wouldn’t think there is

much for me to learn, since my family and I have lived here for generations, but I learn a little more with every article

and every person I meet. Long Beach Island has always been a great place for families, and it seems, that once someone

visits the island, they make it a plan to come back and always do — even if it’s years later. In talking with people about

Echoes of LBI, I’ve learned that some of my long-time customers at Things A drift are related to the neighbors I had

growing up or knew my family. I even discovered that one was my cousin!

If you did not spend the winter on LBI, check out our new section, “While You Were Away,” to find out what you

missed. I missed some of the winter on LBI myself. I traveled cross country to visit my children and grandchildren. It

was a great time, but there is nothing like coming across that bridge after a long trip, knowing you are home. What a

great place to come home to!

I have many people to thank for their contributions and help in getting this magazine published, and I would like to

give a special thanks to Maggie O’Neill, Ryan Marchese, Rena DiNeno, Christine Rooney, Kevin Rooney and Pete

Milnes. I would also like to thank all my wonderful family and friends (old and new) for their contributions and support.

If you come across old photos of your visits or have historic family stories of Long Beach Island, please feel free to

e-mail them to: [email protected]. I am researching past generations who lived here or visited, and I would love

to hear your stories.

Have a nice sunset!

The Tides of Time

looking back, 6 garden state, 14 photography, 22 things a drift, 27

living well, 29 while you were gone, 36 home & garden, 38 green lbi, 50

poetry, 52 books, 54 50 & counting, 56 marine science, 62 legends & lore, 68

autumn, 72 lighthouse film festival, 75

609-361-1668 • 406 long beach blvd • ship bottom • echoesoflbi.com for online magazine and media kitCheryl Kirby - owner & publisher

contributing editors - Rena DiNeno, Maggie O'Neill, Ryan Marchese, Christine Rooney & Kevin Rooney • designer - Pete MilnesAll content of magazine & website remains copyright of Cheryl. No part of publication may be reproduced.

Email articles on history, nostalgia, poetry or art to [email protected] photo: “Land and Sea” by Kelly Andrews, Shells by Things A Drift

Shells: Land Snail, Queen Miter, Noble Pecten Scallop, Bearded Thorny Oyster — See page 35 for shell information!

i n s i d eMarjorie Amon photo

“At the beach, life is different. Time doesn’t move hour to hour

but mood to moment. We live by the currents, plan by the

tides and follow the sun.” — Anonymous

Pete Milnes photo

Peggy Slendon artwork

A special tribute to Echoes of LBI’s models: Kelly Travis, for climbing the 217 steps of Old Barney in her wedding gown; Jeff Santoloci, for

leaving his surfing lessons to follow Kelly to the top and carry her over the threshold; Nicole Gawronsk, for braving the elements on a cold,

windy day in April; and Linsey Iwanoski, for looking so beautiful on the first warm day of spring. Thank you to all the local surfers who showed up on a moment’s notice. It takes an island to publish Echoes of LBI. -CK

:) With the help of Surf Unlimited, Ship Bottom

Looking Back

“Hey Mildred! We’re head-ing for the beach!”

It was 10 a.m., a quiet daz-zling summer morning in 1949. My mother had called to her friend behind us, 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 already 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 later would be peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on fresh white bread wrapped in wax paper. Because preservatives weren’t used, my older brother had gone earlier to Scotties Market on our corner (now Surf City Pizza on 11th St.) as yesterday’s leftovers would now 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 what-ever fell off.

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 four o’clock, weary and scorched, with much sand inside our suits, the gang heads 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 green-head flies and mosqui-tos. Before using the back yard 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 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 night gown 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. Friday it would be my dad coming for the weekend, but now, laying there by my brothers, drifting off to sleep I often heard, “Hey, Mildred, the kids are asleep, come over for a beer ...” — Carol Freas •

Beach Day, 1949Canvas umbrellas, metal wagons,

PB&J wrapped in wax paper

Photos courtesy Carol Freas

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1976. A car cost $5,418, a house $48,000, and gasoline 59

cents per gallon. Betamax and VHS VCRs were released, while Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak founded Apple Computer Company in the midst of CB radio popular-ity and the sale of pet rocks. The Cold War put mankind on the brink of nuclear disaster. The world seemed divided into hostile camps. Nowhere was this more evident than in the German Democratic Republic, commonly known as East Ger-many. The symbol of the division was the Berlin Wall, erected by East Germany around the Western sector of Berlin. The Wall, completely surrounded by East German territory, became the focal point of Cold War tensions. The Cold War’s icy grip extended not only to politics and military matters, but also to sports competition. Sports compe-titions were important to the international reputation for mem-bers of the Eastern Block. During its existence, East Germany was a member of the eastern European nations aligned with the Soviet Union. In the 1972 Olympic Games East Germany won 66 medals, and established itself as a world sporting power.

In the years following the 1972 Munich Olympic Games, two young female athletes began training for competition on the biggest of the world’s stages, the 1976 Olympic Games in Montreal, Canada. Pam Behrens, who vacationed in Surf City since childhood and is now a resident of Manahawkin, was old by Olympic standards. In an era where female gymnasts and figure skaters often peaked in their teens, Pam started training in rowing at the Vesper rowing club in Philadelphia at the ripe old age of 25. Despite having never rowed before and being very out of shape, she seemed to be a natural. Title 9, a program designed to fund women’s sports, led to stiff competition from collegiate programs. Success came quickly, as the Vesper four with cox-swain finished second in the nationals. One month later, Pam’s four finished first in the Canadian Henley, defeating the boat that had beaten them a month earlier in the nationals. In 1972 it was also announced that, for the first time, women’s rowing would be included in the next Olympic Games. Over the next three years, Pam would win the Nationals in an eight, a four, and a quad. (In a quad, each rower has two oars, while in a

Row for the Gold

Looking Back

four, each athlete has one). She also participated in the World and European Champi-onships. In 1976, she was chosen to participate in the U.S. Olympic Selection Camp. It should be noted that at this time, the athletes from the U.S. were true amateurs. For example, most of the expenses for travel and participation in the World and European championships came out of the athletes’ pockets or through fund raisers. NBA stars were not allowed in the Games. At about the same time, a very tall, young, attractive, blond woman was training in East Germany. Her name was Gabriele Lohs. East Germany athletes trained in clubs, but their emphasis was on the smaller boats, like the pairs and fours, rather than the eights, which the U.S. favored. Gabriele’s efforts paid dividends, as she was chosen to represent her country in the four with coxswain. Meanwhile, Pam was selected at the U.S. Olympic Selection Camp to represent her country in the same event. The four with coxswain would be the first event in women’s rowing to ever take place in the Olympic Games. Several heats would be contested until all but the top six boats were eliminated. They would then race in the finals for the Olympic medals. Pam and Gabriele’s teams survived the grueling heats to make the finals. In the finals, however, the first gold medal ever awarded in women’s rowing went to East Germany. The United States boat finished sixth. Gabriele would go on to win a second gold medal in the 1980 Olympic Games, which were boycotted by the United States. Pam retired from rowing, but Gabriele continued competing in Master’s events. (Master’s is a polite euphemism used for older people in age group competitions.) In 1993, Gabriele came to the U.S. with four men and two women from Germany to compete in the Master’s nationals in Portland, Oregon. At the Nationals, Gabriele met American coxswain, Mike Cipollone. After the nationals, the German contingent continued traveling down the West coast. Mike joined them. After Gabriele returned to Germany, there were many calls back and forth between Mike and her. Three trips were made back and forth. Finally, Gabriele moved to the United States, and she and Mike were married in 1995. Mike and Gabriele settled in Ardmore. Their rowing activity centered on Philadel-phia’s boat house row. Boat house row is also the home to Vesper Boat Club. One of

its members, Ginny Kaufmann, met Gabriele and made her feel right at home. She even invited her to attend a monthly meeting of the Vesper Ladies’ Bridge Club. Playing a card game might seem very tame to an Olympic athlete, but, at that time,

Gabriele was still struggling linguistically. Pronunciation problems caused Gabriele unexpected laughs. Spades were “shovels,” and aces were “asses.” Pam was also a member of the bridge club, and, although they were bitter rivals in 1976, they had never met at the Games. Pam certainly had a great opportunity to exact a measure of revenge for the defeat in 1976. The Olympic Games were created by Pierre de Coubertin in 1914. The symbol of the Olympic Games is the Olympic flag, containing five interconnected rings on a white background. The five rings symbolize the five continents and are interconnected to symbolize the friendship formed at the international competition. The rings’ colors are blue, yellow, black, green, and red. At least one of these colors appears on the flag of every country in the world. The Olympic Creed reads: “The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part, just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well.” The Vesper Bridge Club games have going strong since 1995. The most recent game took place July 30, 2009 at Pam’s house in Beach Haven West, just across the bay from LBI. Who won? In the true spirit of the Olympic Creed, the ladies never keep score. Friendship and fun trumps competition, and the ladies had something special to celebrate. The day before, Gabriele became a citizen of the United States of America. — Joe •

Row for the Gold

On Oct. 23, 1982, I handed over $7,000 for a boat which was to become my first home. On this

particular day there was a Nor’easter brewing at the Jersey Shore. I was now the proud owner of my first real boat, a 1948 Matthews 40’ Deluxe Sedan Cruiser. As I drove home to Moorestown from Tom’s River where I purchased the boat I thought if the boat sinks in the storm I’m out $7,000 ... real smart move Capt. Bill! As luck and fortune would have it, the old wooden boat weathered another storm, one of many in the its long history.

According to the archives of the Mat-thews Boat Company, hull # 8216 was delivered to an Edward Byron of 5th Ave. in NYC. The boat was made in Port Clin-ton, Ohio and railroaded to NYC to its new owner in February 1948. Five own-ers later the boat now named the “End-less Summer” had gradually migrated to Beach Haven on LBI. Prior ports of call included the Navasink River, the Tom’s River and the Forked River.

A combination of relative boredom with suburbia and a new job led me to the dream of relocating to the shore. Grow-ing up in Medford Lakes on the western edge of the Pine Barrens, I frequented the island as a child and during my high school years. As the new skipper of the “Endless Summer,” I docked the boat in Tom’s River for a year. But there was way

too much traffic and sprawl for me, so I threw the lines and headed south to the Southwinds Marina in Forked River, not far from the Captain’s Inn. The place was a great down home marina, complete with a railway for hauling boats, a swimming pool, a ship’s store and a relaxed atmo-sphere. I remained there for about 2 years before “throwing the lines” once again to head for the Shelter Harbor Marina in Beach Haven. The Endless Summer was easily the oldest boat at the marina and I was the only full-time live aboard. There were many summer live aboards there. Back in the 80s you could still get away with being a full-time live aboard at the Jersey Shore. Those days are long gone and besides who in their right mind would want to live aboard a boat in the winter?

By 1988 I had acquired my USCG charter boat captain’s license. Also by this time I had enough of the live aboard life. In Sept. 1988 I found a nice home on Mill Creek in Beach Haven West over looking the Forsythe National Wild-life Sanctuary. My new home met my requirements — a big warm fireplace, dockage for the “Endless Summer” and a couple of smaller boats. My new home got much of my attention. The Endless Summer was feeling a bit neglected and was falling apart. Once again she criti-cally needed intensive care to stay afloat. I relied on the advise of “old timers” who

grew up with wooden boats to help me restore it. In August 1984, the “Endless Summer” almost sank. The boat was seriously in need of hull work or it would find herself in Davy Jones’ Locker. Two months later, the hull received the work needed to be seaworthy once again. No more leaky boat. The hull restoration lasted almost 15 years.

The next major restoration effort began in 1998. The forward deck and the main cabin were replaced while the boat was in the water. Later, the boat was hauled out for extensive hull work, including a new transom, new mahogany planks where needed, steam bent oak ribs, and refastening below the waterline. Under the guidance of Hugh Brown and Bill DeRouvelle, both wooden boat restora-tion experts in Toms River, the Endless Summer was ship shape once again. State of the art techniques and materials were utilized including Imron paint and West System products.

During August/September 2009, fresh Crusader 350 engines were installed in the boat at Morrison’s Marina by their ex-cellent marine mechanics. The 62-year-old “Endless Summer” will once again be cruising the waters around LBI. With a little luck and more cosmetic work, the boat will be entered in the Tuckerton Seaport Wooden Boat Show in the near future. — Bill Halbeisen •

Looking Back

Saga of the

“Endless Summer”

I started vacationing on LBI as a young girl. I can still vividly recall awaiting the last day of school in anticipa-tion of beginning our vacation to the shore. One summer, I

noticed the little shack that sat alone in the marsh tucked behind a billboard -- its grey wood, long devoid of color, the marshy grasses high around it, and the roof so full of holes. As a teen, my only thoughts of it were, “They should tear that thing down.” The years rolled on. I went from teen to woman, wife, and mother that shack still stood welcoming my family, my husband, Tommy, and our sons, James and Dylan. Every year I began to watch for that little landmark as the beacon that meant sum-mer had arrived.

On one summer trip over the causeway, my son, James, noticed my now failing friend and asked, “What is that?”

“That’s Dad’s house,” responded Tom-my, whose wit always made everyone laugh.

“We are not stay-ing there are we? It has holes in the roof!” exclaimed James.

“No problem,” Tommy answered, “We’ll see the stars.” We all laughed.

We greeted the little shack every year with shouts of “Look, Tom-my’s House!” Friends and family who would visit us always looked for the little shack in the marsh also. Cell phones rang with the announcement that they had just passed “Tommy’s House” and would be arriving soon.

This all changed in the summer of 2004. Our annual shore vacation week was thrown off schedule by the news that Tommy had cancer. A dear friend offered us her house for the month of July. That last summer, I don’t think Tommy knew it would be the last time we would pass “Tommy’s House” as a family. Tommy passed away a year later. I did not know when I would pass “Tommy’s House” again.

It is funny how your life takes different roads. In February 2010, my mom, who also loved the island, purchased a house in Ship Bottom. As I drove over to the island, I noticed my little shack had suffered the past few years. Nonetheless, there it stood, welcoming me with every loose board, every hole.

On Easter weekend, James, my oldest and now married, and

Dylan, who will be off to college in the fall, came for a fam-ily weekend. They had crossed the causeway with the echoes of Tommy’s voice, “That’s Dad’s house.” That weathered little shack stood as a reminder of the wonderful family summers we had spent together on LBI.

Motivated by the beautiful weather, I took a bike ride. As I headed down the Boulevard towards Surf City, I came upon Things A Drift. The shop is packed with shells, jewelry, and art. The owner and I began to chat. I believe you are sent places for a reason. There, in a beautiful wood frame, was “Tommy’s

House” -- four separate images of the little wooden shack in the marsh, each showing the changes over the years, not unlike the way my life had changed. Weathered and worn, but still stand-ing, were we. I knew immediately this would be the perfect gift for my mother’s new shore home. To my delight, the artist, Tony Decider, was in the shop. Tony was happy to sign his work, “Vivian, Best Regards.” Tommy would have loved it.

My mom was overjoyed with her gift. Her first words were “Tommy’s House.” With a little sorrow and a lot of joy, it was hung in the family room, as a reminder that life can be short, so savor each day.

I hope that my little wooden friend will continue to welcome my family and I for many years to come. I would like for all who visit LBI, when that small wooden piece of the island’s history comes into view, make it their own, just as Tommy did. — Kim Bald •

Tommy’s house

Tony Desiderio artwork

This article is dedicated to “Big Al” Ollivier. May your spirit live on in all of us. Maggie O’Neill

Walk down West Street in Beach Haven and just before you get to the Boat House or the Ketch restaurant, you will see

a driveway that sits between chain link fences. Behind the fence are a few clapboard buildings, a turn of the century house, and a dock with rows of boats and jet skis for rent. At the edge of the dock there is a table for cutting bait and cleaning fish. Perched on its edge is a very large egret. His name is Big Bird. Out from one of the grey-blue ramshackle buildings walks Herman Joor-

man. His full head of wild grey hair, spiraling out of an old vi-sor, is matched only by the length of his beard. Glasses sit amid the cloud of grey. He has an uneven gate, courtesy of polio as a child, quick, gnarled hands that wave hello, and an ease that lets you know he is no stranger to this spot. Indeed, Herman grew up here, amongst the clapboard buildings and the bay. This is his home. This is Polly’s Dock.

Herman takes a seat on one of the many chairs haphazardly strewn around the deck situated between the buildings. There are four or five long time locals sitting on the porch railings or

Looking Back

Polly’s DockBruce Kerr photo

casually lounging on the chairs. There are two old refrigera-tors, one is marked ‘bait’ and the other holds cold, German beer. Someone hands Herman a Beck’s. The conversation is easy; the weather, how rough the water is today, who came by last night, has anyone seen Flynn, where is Pat, etc. Time passes and the beers flow, full then empty, like the bay tide.

The small front hut holds guitars, both old and new, tambou-rines, a wash basin, drums and a microphone. Herman shuffles into the shack, picks up his 14 year old guitar and starts to strum. The others join him and suddenly music fills the salt air in and around the dock. The songs run from country, to beer hall, to classic rock and finally, to gospel. Voices come together over the common ground of music. The voices are good. The washbasin drum keeps a beat along with the newer instruments as the music melds with the bay. Smoking is definitely permit-ted here and the camaraderie is undeniable.

Herman grew up in the narrow, old house that sits next to the bait and tackle building. His family has owned and worked this piece of land for more than 66 years. He is as much a part of Polly’s Dock as the water and the salt air. He has lived a bay man’s life that few of us today could ever imagine and it has served him well.

Herman’s father and mother bought Polly’s in 1943 when he was 8 years old. Back then it was known as Kelly’s. “My mother’s name was Mary, but everyone just called her Polly. So we renamed the business Polly’s Dock,” explains Herman. As a child, he contracted polio and spent many months in a hospital, relearning how to eat, move and walk. “I just got sick one day and had this pain in my neck. They didn’t know what was wrong. I collapsed and they brought me to a hospital in Atlantic City where I was quarantined,” he says matter-of-factly. “After a few days, I felt I could move a little. It took me 6 months to learn to feed myself again.” Through sheer will, he regained the use of his legs and spent his childhood years working the dock with his father, renting boats and catching minnows to sell as bait.

When the time came for college, Herman chose the pres-tigious College of William and Mary. After his first year at W&M, he decided to return to LBI. Although college may not have been his cup of tea, within a short time in his company you don’t doubt the power of his mind. From the extraordinary vocabulary to the breadth of ideas that he so effortlessly formu-lates, there is obviously a keen mind under that old visor.

His early twenties were important years in his life; he met his future wife, Gerri, and he bought Polly’s from his parents. As Herman tells it, “My father said to me, ‘Do you want it? Here are the terms.’ I just said, yes! Back then, you could make a good living on the bay, catching mussels, clams, and minnows. I can re-member when they used to ship out boxes of fish to Philadelphia. One box could hold up to 50 pounds. In those days, two fluke would fill it up to the max, weighing in at 25 pounds each.”

Herman goes on to say that when he first took over the business, the boats were all row boats. “They didn’t have motors back then. We would rent boats to people and they would row out to fish. When they went out at night, they used kerosene lanterns on the boats. During the day, when they were done and wanted to come back, they would hold up an ore as a signal and someone would go out and tow them in.” Herman laughs a salty laugh at the memory. “Outboards were one of the biggest changes to the business.”

Local Beach Haven history reveals that Herman is known for catching more minnows than anyone else. It is this claim to fame that provided him with the lifestyle he loves. “We built up the business on the minnows in the summer and it gave us the freedom to travel all winter.” I asked him where he traveled, and his itinerary was one to be envied. “We went to Mexico many times,” he said, showing me a dozen or so pictures of himself and Gerri in aqua blue waters, enjoying a world far away from New Jersey winters. “We would just up and go. We didn’t have a plan or a schedule; we didn’t need one,” and from the joy evident in the photos, this certainly seemed to be true. “I’m partial to Australia,” Herman said, when I asked him to name his favorite place. “We would travel for 3 months every year and come back broke,” he laughed. “Then we’d start working and saving for next year’s trip.”

I ask Herman where he would like to go now if he had his choice. “Anyplace I’ve never been,” he quickly answers. Tou-ché, I think. “And your philosophy of life?” I ask. “You’re only here for the moment,” he replies.

Herman is known for his fierce loyalty to friends, always winning at chess, and a love of freedom. Being a bay man and working hard at what he does gave him the ability to live life on his own terms. Nothing fancy and nothing pretentious; his years were filled with love for his wife, Polly’s Dock, friends and travel to a world outside the boundaries of Beach Haven.

When the time came for Herman to decide just how he wanted to set up life for his remaining time in this world, he found the perfect answer. Since Polly’s Dock is a prime piece of bay front real estate, many offers had been floated by him over the years and all were turned down, until just the right offer came along. Pat Damiani, owner of The Hydrangea House B&B in Beach Haven, made Herman an offer he didn’t refuse. Pat bought Polly’s Dock to run as it as it has always been run; boat rentals, bait, and maybe a jet ski or two. The buildings are the same, with the addition of some very welcome bathrooms. The major stipulation in the deal was that Herman will continue to live in his house on the dock for as long as he so chooses.

On this particular night, like most, Herman and his friends gravitate to the music shack. Someone plays the wash basin as a drum, the guitars are fired up and someone else starts to shake a tambourine. Herman leads a song, fingers flying over the strings, beer laden voice clear and strong. Here at Polly’s Dock, not all that much has changed. It is a step back in time. The buildings echo its history; a way of life built on the bay. As the night wears on and the music filters out over the water, this spot in old Beach Haven is new again.

So, for the most part, life at Polly’s Dock ebbs and flows pretty much the same as it always has for the past 66 years. Sadly, Her-man recently lost his beloved wife. But the dock is still the focal point of his life. He works the boats, strums his guitar, drinks his Beck’s and, on a rare and wonderful night, shares his story with a few lucky souls. “Herman,” I ask, just before leaving, “any regrets?” “NO WAY!” he cheerfully roars. “‘NO WAY!”

I smile. You have to admire that; life lived on his own terms. And what a life it is! — Maggie O’Neill •

(Polly’s Dock is located at 112 West Avenue in Beach Haven. 609-494-2194. Polly’s is open for boat and Jet Ski rentals 7 days a week from 6 a.m. to 9 p.m..)

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Garden State

The Eastern GoldfinchKelly Andrews photo

Stately Bird

You may have more in common with one of New Jer-

sey’s most famous citizens than you think — Albert Einstein. While very few of us have a Nobel Prize to our credit, most LBI resi-dents and visitors treasure sailing and ice cream, two of Einstein’s loves. Upon arriving in Princeton, his first purchases were a hair comb from the local “dime store” across the street from the university, and an ice cream cone with chocolate sprinkles from the Balti-more. One longtime Princ-eton resident remembers clearly, as a child, watching Einstein sailing, or attempt-ing to, on Lake Carnegie. Evidently it takes more than a great mind to master the winds because Einstein’s sailing drew onlookers more for the amusement value.

Einstein loved the local Princeton children. Jay Craig remembers his mom saying, “There goes Dr. Einstein!” He and the other children would run out of the house to find him, for he always carried pennies in his pocket to give out.

Always a man of routine, Einstein lunched for many years at Lahiere’s Restaurant (usually on roasted chicken and vegetables), often returning to town later to meet up with friends for tea at the Nassau Inn.

He had more peculiar habits, such as taking off his socks in the middle of a snow storm because the wool was irritating and inter-fered with his concentration. Lou Rossi, another longtime resident, remembers Einstein loved gadgets. “He would stand on Nassau Street where the toy store was and stare at this bird toy that would s-l-o-w-l-y dip down, take a drink, and then rise up. The toy really delighted him.” Einstein never learned to drive a car, so his pedes-trian ways put him in constant contact with local residents.

Einstein first visited Princeton University in 1921. By 1930, Hitler

would have a $5,000 bounty on Dr. Einstein, prompting him to quip that, “I had no idea I was worth so much!” When Einstein’s apartment was ran-sacked in Germany, he knew it was time to return to Princeton as the first faculty hire at the new Institute for Advanced Study near the University. Later, he would be instrumental in attracting other refugees to Princeton: Kurt Godel, Jon von Neumann, Robert Oppen-heimer, and Svetlana Stalin.

Dr. Einstein lived in Princ-eton from 1933 until his death in 1955. Einstein would tell his friends that he had been “exiled to Paradise” and would confide that he had never felt more at home anywhere else. This seems to hold true for other Nobel Prize winners. Three have lived in Einstein’s home in Princeton. Erik Maskin, winner of the 2007 Nobel Prize for Economics, lives there now. Last fall, during an architectural tour led by Maxmillian Hayden, Dr. Maskin came out with his recycling and graciously chat-ted with our customers. One woman who was especially

excited congratulated him on his fabulous blog. Dr. Maskin smiled and said, “Oh, that’s my friend Paul Krugman you’re speaking of. He won the Nobel in 2008. I won in 2007.” Around town, it’s not unusual to see Dr. Cornell West, Paul Muldoon, Toni Morrison (not her real name), and even John Nash, who is frequently seen dining with his son. Residents are mindful of the incredible talents they call neighbors and friends.

On April 18, 1955, at age 76, Einstein died at Princeton Hospital. He had been ill with heart disease and murmured a few words in German before he expired. Because the nurse did not speak the language, his last words were never known.

If you want to learn more about Einstein, the lovable genius, a visit to Landau’s mini museum at 102 Nassau Street is in order. Tucked in among the Loden Coats and fisherman knit sweaters is the only permanent “museum” to Einstein in the U.S. •

Garden State

Einstein, sailing & ice cream

Carol Freas artwork

When you are on the beach this summer season here on Long Beach Island, gaze at the water a little harder than you have in the past. You may see something, take a double look and say, “Did I really just see that? Did I

really just see a bunch of pirates? Nah, no way.” You are probably not prepared to see rugged pirates standing before you as if

from the days of old. This year on LBI won’t be such a rare sighting. This summer, as in the past, the Sea Rats Atlantic will join us, and it’s a moment you won’t want to miss.

The Sea Rats Atlantic is a world renowned group of sailors and maritime adven-turers who have become very well known for their portrayal of pirates and other rogues. The Sea Rats traveling crew add a fascinating focal point to summer seaside

communities throughout the eastern seaboard. The old timers of such places declare that they add a fun, by-gone feel to summer.

The Sea Rats have a fondness for the Jersey Shore, and it’s been rumored that LBI is their favorite.

So, how does one go about encountering these pirates? The mysterious chance of catching sight of the crew adds a level of unanticipated fun to an average day at the beach. They provide lore and excitement for families and beach visitors alike while spending a day at the shore. Legend says you can never know just when you might encounter a glimpse of these famous fellows.

Now, you may be thinking, “how will I know when I see them”? I assure you, you will. The Sea Rats appear as if they stepped right out of time; filthy and dirty, with clothing like you’ve never seen. You may get a word with one of them, or you may not. It’s even possible to see them on the water’s horizon, maneuvering their wooden boats to some other place in time. On land, you might be taking a stroll and suddenly stumble upon a Sea Rat stashing their loot and hoarding their goods. If you ask the locals, many will say that it’s only out of the corner of their eye they capture a glimpse of these rogues. You may be lucky and get a picture, or you may not, there is no way to know.

It’s the sea where you will most likely find them, as night begins to fall upon the warm beach and stars emerge to greet the dim summer light. Into the fading sun, on the waters edge, you can see them traveling off to a dis-tant place. If you blink for a second, they are gone. That’s their lore, these Pirates of old. So look sharp, mates, the Sea Rats Atlantic could be waiting

for you! (Photos courtesy Sea Rats Atlantic. Pillage on over to www.searatsatlantic.com to find out more about the scurvy dogs.)

Sea RatsFilthy, dirty,

scurvy dogs sail for LBI

Memorial Day Weekend brings the smell of rats to Things A Drift on Long Beach Island.

Garden State

Edward Luterio artwork

Oh, summer romances. I’ve had many over the years on LBI. Last summer, I must say, I had the most memorable and healthy romance of all. I fell in love with kayaking. This

summer, I rekindled that romance.A couple of years ago, a friend gave me, that is correct, he gave

me two kayaks. He was moving away from the area and could no longer use them. As most native LBI’ers know, summers can be very busy, especially if it is when you have to make your living. Needless to say, the kayaks did not get used very frequently, until last summer. Now that I have established this blissful romance, I could never imagine life without it.

Kayaking can be done on the bay or in the ocean. While I plan to try it in the ocean this summer, I have only been in the bay so far,

and the bay is wonderful! Whether I am out at the crack of dawn on water that looks like a sheet of glass or in mid afternoon, when the winds are kicking up and the waves are chopping — I love it. I go out at sunrise, sunset and any time in between; but every day, weather permitting, I go out kayaking. My day is not complete if I don’t. It relaxes me, invigorates me, gives me fresh air and lots of exercise; all things that are healthy and good.

I have two kayaks, so I can go out alone or with a friend. Either way, it’s great. I have all kinds of friends to kayak with; some do it for exercise, some like to relax, and some I just want to spend time with. We’ve had a lot of great adventures exploring the marshes, venturing onto deserted islands, or staying afloat during heavy winds. We’ve shared stories, cocktails and sunscreen. It’s always good.

Garden State

KayakingFor the love of

Jessica Falkowski photo

SHIP BOTTOM CRUISE NIGHTS 2010Every first Tuesday, May thru September

May 4, June 1, July 6, Aug. 3, Sept. 7, 5 p.m. to 9 p.m.

•No registration fee • Easy In - Easy Out!• Beautiful cars, local merchant shopping and dining

• Take a stroll along the beach

Sponsored by Ship Bottom Merchant Association 18th - 22nd St. & Long Beach Blvd., Ship Bottom

Take Parkway Exit 63 East - Follow Rt. 72 East to Long Beach Blvd., Turn right, 9 blocks on the left. Car Owners are

responsible for current registration and insurance coverage.

Ship Bottom Merchants Association will not be held liable for any damages.

Questions: [email protected]

“LBI Beach Woodie” prints available at Things A Drift in Ship Bottom

When I’m alone in my kayak, I do whatever I’m in the mood for. Sometimes I like to take a rigorous cruise across the bay and other times, I just want to drift around and watch the sun set. There are even times when I find myself serenading nature, like “singing in the shower.” Speaking of singing, how nice it was kayaking over to the dock to hear music on the bay in Ship Bottom on Thursday, or listening to Reggae in Harvey Cedars on Wednesday night. I wasn’t able to dance in my kayak, but I certainly had no trouble finding a good seat!

What about those hefty gas prices? I didn’t have to worry about buying gas to get around in my kayak. I wasn’t polluting the water, making loud engine noises, or disturbing the creatures in the bay. Instead of hurting the environ-ment, kayaking makes you one with it. When the tide is low and the water is calm, I like to just look over the side at the life below. The most exciting creature I saw was a huge sea turtle.

Not only is life interesting below the surface of the water, but I highly recom-mend kayaking for birdwatchers. The egrets, sandpipers, seagulls and even swans decorate the marshlands with their grace and splendor. It’s even more worthwhile to get up at dusk only to be startled by a Black Skimmer dragging its lower mandible through the water to snap up a fish.

In addition to nature’s creatures, there are also treasures from humankind. Once, I found a vintage 1920s brown glass Clorox bottle without a scar on it and filled with sand. The bay shores can also be a real sea glass collector’s paradise.

Among the many treasures I discovered in the bay, I found old friends and met new ones. How cool is that! It’s a pretty big bay out there. Hopefully, I will run into more friends. My next venture will be at sea with my kayak; but for now, I hope lots of people fall in love like I did ... the bay is big enough for all of us. — Rena DiNeno •

Echoes of LBIgives back.

Cheryl Kirby photo

“Today will be a great day to fly,” remarks Jim Loner-gan, a lifelong aviation enthusiast who operates Biplane Rides Over NJ Beaches. I’m thankful as well for this

clear April sky but even more so for the once in a lifetime opportu-nity to climb aboard his 1942, World War II, Stearman open cockpit biplane and soak in the sights of the Jersey shoreline and Long Beach Island. To be lifted from the landscape and carried into flight by her iconic and quaint double wings is to experience aviation history in a most intimate and nostalgic way.

Upon first sight, it is clear the Cannibal Queen is royalty. She is dressed in proud, bright yellow paint and is dangerously allur-ing against a clear Blue Jay sky. After I clamber up into my seat I notice all that will separate me from the great blue beyond will be a windshield the size of an open textbook and the invisible whirl of the shiny, silver propeller. It starts to spin faster until it blurs. The three hundred horsepower engine kicks into gear and this lovely vibration crawls up from the bottom of my feet to my knee caps. We gather speed and in one smooth moment we are airborne. Her nose lifts towards the heavens and I am wholly immersed within the endless blue that is our immediate destination.

The view from a biplane far surpasses what one can see from the tiny oval window of a commercial jet. We travel due east and the thin watery edge of the horizon thickens as we approach the Atlantic coast. I gaze at what seems like endless hills with a jagged, dense, forest green surface. Jim is not just a highly capable pilot, but a knowledgeable tour guide as well. He shows me a hotel in the distance, once frequented by Al Capone, which ironically enough

resembles a grim, grey prison. We cruise to the coast like a large yellow albatross, dipping our

wings alternatively enjoying the route of the natural coastline and the lulling motion of the biplane tilting back and forth. We travel the length of Long Beach Island. This piece of land is neatly populated by attractive, pastel beach homes. The neighborhood has a clean, subtle 1950s charm as if came straight out of a Normal Rockwell painting. For those of you fortunate enough to live here, what a great way to window(less) shop for your new beach house! Jim pushes the stick the other way and we spy the cascading white wake radiating off the tail of a miniature yacht. I wave and imagine those on board are tilting their heads upwards, admiring our unique yellow vessel against the azure, cloudless sky. Enjoying the coast from this vantage point is by far the most exclusive and one of a kind way to visit the Jersey shore.

All too soon this lovely voyage is coming to a close. Back within the grips of gravity, I feel sorry that the biplane ride has ended, yet at the same time I realize the experience will never quite be over. I will always have the fantastic panoramic view of the Jersey coast at one thousand feet, burned into my memory. Even if this adventure is not quite your cup of tea, I’ll bet you have a restless, try anything once, loved one who would be pleasantly surprised to experience this unique ride. The gift of open cockpit flight is a timeless, unforget-table gesture. If you do find the urge to soar amongst the clouds in the convertible version of an aircraft, I highly recommend you choose the Cannibal Queen as your royal guide to the sky. — Jessica Ritz •

Photography

Marjorie Amon photos

Cannibal QueenFlying high with the

Marjorie Amon photo

Photography

Spring Surfer, Pete Milnes photo

Oyster Catchers, Marjorie Amon photo

Long Beach Island Art

I like a large house with a porch. For me, a porch is big and long in the front of a house. The porch should have wooden, slat-

ted floors with railings and a big front stair. I prefer the stairs to be creaky so when someone comes, the arrival is announced, and everyone can look at who’s coming. If it’s someone new or important, the creaking encourages a stare, a look, a smirk, a smile or even a “Hi.” There should also be a little spot of sunlight for a dog to feel warm. Of course, the porch should have rocking chairs and later in the day, a dim light, but not enough to take away from the sunset. The big lights should be inside. It should be a summer eve, about dusk, seventy-five degrees, and not too humid. Occa-sionally, there will be a thunderstorm, and what better place than a porch to view the rain and the lightening. And of course, the kids should have a big ice cream cone with sprinkles. I’ve seen these porches on LBI, and I’ve seen all these people just chatting, laugh-ing, or quietly looking. It’s a social time, a special time people may remember forever. But I’m not sure all the porches on LBI have slatted floors and creaky stairs and rocking chairs and dim lights. That’s OK, I still like them. — Art Liebeskind •

The many moods of a porch

Photography

Doug Lawver photo

Garden Turtle, Marjorie Amon photo

The Art of Robert SaksonRobert Sakson is one of New Jersey’s most accomplished watercolorists. Robert is a Fellow of the American Watercolor Society and the New Jersey Water- color Society. His love for Long Beach Island is reflected in his art, portraying local landmarks and historically significant buildings. His work is available at Things A Drift, 406 Long Beach Boulevard, Ship Bottom, 609-361-1668.

Genuine sea glass jewelry and Mini Sea Glass FestivalJewelry made with sea glass exclusively from Long Beach Island, designed by Staci Louise. Also designs by Christeena Minopetros with sea glass from around the world. We also sell natural sea glass by the piece or in collectible bottles. Mini Sea

Glass & Arts Show Oct. 2 & 3, 10-3:00, at Things A Drift, 406 Long Beach Blvd., Ship Bottom. Includes sea glass lectures and contest. Call 609-361-1668 for more information.

Things A DriftShells, coral, jewelry, hermit crabs, gifts, drift-wood, and local history books by local authors. Nautical design consultant - indoors and out. Kitchens, family rooms and mantels are our coastal design specialty, incorporating nautical art, shells, mermaids, natural driftwood and more. Feel free to bring pictures of your home for a no obligation consultation. We have a large selection of shells from all over the world, from tiny speci-mens to the largest Tridacna gigas (525 lbs). Bring your camera in and have a picture taken while sitting in this giant clam.

Hermit Crabs Ahoy!Things A Drift has the largest selection of healthy hermit crabs of all sizes. We have adoption cer-

tificates (remember this is a pet, not a souvenir) and wellness information. Emergency number is always available. Please feel free to bring in your pet hermits for a check-up. This is very important in the spring or early summer, before molting. Also, this should be done anytime you add a new pet to your family of hermits. Bacteria are one of the main causes of prob-lems for hermits, especially ones you have had for more than two or three years. This can easily be treated if caught before molting. We have been selling and raising hermit crabs for 35 years. Come visit Shelly, Sandy and Triton, our family pets, that we have had for 15 years. They love having their picture taken. You are always welcome to call if you have a question, 609-361-1668. •

Things A Drift

Roseanne Rainville photo

Photography

I love words. Occasionally, I will hear or read something that really makes an impact and stays with me for months or even years. They are golden nuggets - words so perfectly

grouped together they create a thought or statement that can actually change a life. Although rare, when they do occur, they live on and on in classic inspirational history.

We all have our favorite phrases, lyrics, prayers and quotes that touch us in a special way. Sometimes the simplicity of the message is staggering. Sometimes the message can seem so ob-vious. And sometimes the words are just beautiful in the image they create.

I remember driving down the Boulevard one Sunday morn-ing about five years ago listening to NPR. The program was an interview with a psychologist. I was only half listening, my mind on a million different things, when I heard a statement that I never forgot. The psychologist said, “Your actions determine your priorities.” Hmmm ... Actions determine priorities? Well, of course they do. What was so enlightening about that? Then I started to put that phrase to a mental test. I thought about what I did the past month and how I spent my time and effort. Was I truly putting my energy into the things that were or should be a priority? If I wasn’t, then where was my time and effort actually going? Did that mean my priorities were much different than what I thought they were? Or should be? It seemed so simple, but from that day on, I always do a mental “priority check” just to keep myself grounded. Budget tight? Then why am I shop-ping? Feeling tired? Why don’t I get out and move around? Feeling bored? Why aren’t I getting involved in something more rewarding than Netflix? Most of the time, it’s a surprise when I find that my actions are supporting the direct opposite of what I think my priorities are. Now, my mental priority check-ups are a valuable and necessary part of my routine that continue to chastise and intrigue me.

Some fifteen years ago, I read a prayer that had a profound effect on my spirituality. Like most of us, I have my “Please, God,” list I invoke much too frequently. Requests that range from the oh-so ridiculous, “please help me lose 10 pounds,” to the more necessary “please help me land this job, or pay that bill,” etc. One morning, I happened to read a quote in an inspi-rational little book someone gave me. The phrase was a prayer that read, “Lord, please give me the energy to work for what I pray for.” Eureka! That’s what it’s all about. That is exactly what I want from God. No more whining for hand outs, just the energy to work for what I want! That was the answer for me.

That changed my prayers forever. I never again asked for any-thing other than good health and energy to work hard so I can accomplish what I need to in life. I know it sounds simple, but it was an eye opener for me. Another golden nugget of words put together to form a perfect thought - the perfect prayer.

Some phrases are famous because they deserve to be. “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the differ-ence.” You just have to love that phrase. So much is said in those few words. No matter how often we hear it, the message remains so powerful. Timeless and simple, this thought is one for the ages. If we only took a moment to really understand the difference between what we can change and what we can’t change, we would probably save ourselves a lot of angst. And the wisdom to know the difference? Priceless!

One of my favorite articles was written by Erma Bombeck. It’s entitled, If I Had My Life to Live Over. Erma Bombeck was known for her witty and humorous newspaper column. She had a gift for making us laugh at everyday life. Sadly, Ms. Bom-beck was diagnosed with kidney disease and died in 1996 from complications following a kidney transplant. Before her death, she wrote an essay that beautifully captures the things in life that are truly important verses the silly things we all too often waste time on. It points out where we should channel our actions and what life’s priorities should be. While it is too long to reprint here, I urge you to Google and read her poignant last column. I have a copy taped to the wall of my office. It helps me to never forget what is really important in this journey we call life.

There can be no list of inspirational thoughts or guidelines that does not at least mention the one and only rule any of us should need to function in society – “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.” Regardless of your religion, faith, concept of God(s), spiritual beliefs, view of humankind or not so kind, no other phrase is as easy to understand and as to the point as this one. So clear and yet so hard!

If I expanded the list, you can be sure the Beatles, Van Mor-rison, Jimmy Buffet and maybe even a clever beer commercial would have made a quote or two. It’s all about words that speak to us as individuals. What are the phrases, essays, lyrics or sayings that have made an impact in your life? Did they change you? When they do, it can leave you absolutely speechless. — Maggie O’Neill •

Living Well

Words of inspiration

Cancer, The Secret, and Mindfulness

Rhonda Byrne’s metaphysical book and DVD, both titled The Secret, have challenged the conscious-ness of millions worldwide. The film has reportedly helped many people improve their lives by sharing a

“secret,” the metaphysical law of attraction. Essentially, this law states that what we think about and feel directly determine what we attract and thus experience, putting us each in control of manifesting the reality we wish to create.

Some powerful manifesting tools, as professed in The Secret, include creating a vision board(s) and keeping a gratitude journal. To make a vision board, the individual must become conscious, clear and specific about what it is that he or she wishes to create. Once this is clear, the person may draw, paint or cut out magazine pictures of these desired realities and then post them onto a bulletin board. The vision board should be kept in a place where the individual will look at it daily. The indi-vidual should think about these realities and actually imagine themselves having these things/people/experiences. A gratitude journal is also a daily practice, however this practice is about recognizing and consciously experiencing things that he or she already has. These practices essentially train the individual to be imagining or thinking about positive things in their life that they either already have or wish to create. In the film The Secret, a breast cancer survivor details how she defeated her cancer without radiation or chemotherapy. She explains that she healed herself simply by thinking positive thoughts, watching funny movies, and telling herself multiple times throughout the day that she was healing. As a cancer survivor, myself, I have to admit that the watching funny movies bit put me off; it seemed a bit ridiculous as a cancer treatment. But I got the point: she did whatever she could to keep her spirit up and stress level down. From health psychology and psychoneuroimmunology, we know that stress is counterproductive to healing (Kiecolt-Gla-ser, McGuire, Robles, & Glaser, 2002; Kiecolt-Glaser, Garner, Speicher, Penn, Holliday, & Glaser, 1984) and, furthermore, that activities like meditation increase immune functioning (Kiecolt-Glaser, 1985)

But is it reasonable to believe that our thoughts actually create physical reality? If I believe that my life is a product of circumstance, largely outside of my control, and that all that I have created now is all that I will ever create in the future, I will likely mope through each day creating more of the same. We’ve all seen this in ourselves, friends and clients. If, however, I subscribe to the law of attraction and believe that I can create

anything I wish by feeling good and thinking positive thoughts, I will perhaps engage with life more fully, set clear goals and work to create the things I wish to experience. Such a strategy can be life chang-ing, and not too far off from cognitive-behavioral therapy. I begin to feel hopeful and empowered. I continue practicing positive thinking, writing in my gratitude journal, visualizing what I wish to achieve. By the law of attraction, I begin attracting more and more of these positive thoughts, feelings, health, objects, people, and circumstances into my life. Wow! Things are really looking up!

The problem, however, surfaces when I wake up one day and just can’t get myself into a positive frame of mind. The pressure mounts, especially if I believe the implied corollary to The Secret’s hopeful message: that negative thoughts will send my life promptly into a negative spiral. In an effort to be positive, I may try to deny what I am truly feeling. I begin to feel frustrated, stagnant and confused; soon I am in a tailspin.

The danger of The Secret’s message is that cancer patients might begin to feel, on top of being diagnosed with cancer, that they are now to blame for their illness and that their thoughts are solely responsible for their healing. “I probably caused my cancer by being so negative.” “I now have to watch all my thoughts and feelings if I want to heal.” Can-cer patients may begin to feel a need to be positive at all times, since negative thoughts and feelings will only create more of the same, presumably exacerbating the disease.

Let’s take the hypothetical example of Sally, who is in breast cancer treatment and has begun using the law of attraction, visualizing herself as a beautiful, healthy, powerful young lady. Each day, she envisions herself leaving the cancer center for the last time, never to return. She imagines herself inspiring others to make the same positive changes in their lives and has been feeling great! Her CT scans are improving, she hasn’t been sick from the chemotherapy, and she has been meeting more positive people and experiencing scenarios that she imagined. She prac-tices her visualizations and focused desires each morning, and spends time being grateful for the wonderful things in her life.

Living Well

Sharing a Secret

Sally has really benefited from her new metaphysical practices.

Today, however, she’s feeling very sick; she is tired, angry, worried, and anxious, and she doesn’t know why. Sally begins to worry that her nega-tive state of mind is going to make her sicker and ruin everything she has worked for. Sally begins to think, “If I’m not thinking positive thoughts, my cancer is going to grow. Oh my god, I can’t feel happy right now; I am going to die.” Soon, she is feeling even worse than she did when she woke up because she feels bad that she is feeling bad! I call this a “mind f*@%,” and yes, that’s a clinical term. It can spiral down

pretty quickly. Sally, without other tools in her toolbox, becomes despondent and confused. She

feels powerless, perhaps even more powerless than she felt pre-Secret. So let’s sort this out. What is really true here? As

therapists, we know that to a large degree our thoughts and beliefs do influence the reality we experience. If, for example, I hear a noise and interpret it to be a burglar breaking into my home and operate from this belief, my heart begins to pound, I can’t sleep, and I may be frozen in my bed. However, if I hear the same noise and believe

it to be my cat, I will act very differently.The Secret espouses that reality is created by virtue of

the thoughts we think. But as a therapist, a cancer survi-vor, and a curious human being, I know that there’s another

metaphysical law not discussed in the Secret. I call it, “What goes up must come down,” also known as the law of rhythm. No one is maniacally happy all the time. There is a flow to being human, and that includes times of reverie, reflection and even sadness.

This catch-22 is often the place where people get stuck. A colleague said to me the other day, “Have you heard of The

Secret? What a load of crap! I have more people coming into my office upset about this thing. You can’t just be positive all the time; you have to work on your issues.” Unlike my colleague, a hardcore psychoanalyst, I do not agree that The Secret is a load of crap; I believe the philosophies are empowering and use-ful. But as a therapist, I agree that we do have to work on our issues. It’s unreasonable to expect to feel happy and positive and powerful all the time. There is a flow to life: sometimes we are down, other times we are up. There are days when issues are go-

ing to grab hold, things are going to happen, and we are going to feel bad, sad, mad, and even helpless; we’re human. Rather than try to suppress these difficult thoughts and feelings, it is useful to become aware of what they are about, especially if they seem to come up over and over again.

For the most part, our hypothetical cancer patient Sally is on the right track. She should continue to focus on what she truly desires and work to make that a reality. Life is a beautiful creative process, but also sometimes a process of unraveling. Sometimes, like Sally, we are down and that just is. Further-more, these downtimes can actually be useful and full of valuable information. We just have to spend a little bit of time making friends with and listening to what these feeling states wish to communicate.

If Sally can learn to listen to her thoughts and her body, she may be able to find out just what is going on for her, or at least, with practice, become less reactive to her “bad days.” She will have to practice regularly, though. You can’t just brush your teeth when you have a cavity, and likewise, you can’t just prac-tice mindfulness when you feel bad. The benefits of mindfulness build with regular practice, but she can begin today.

Often listening to the body is actually the easiest way in, es-pecially when the mind is racing. A body-oriented meditation is ideal; there is great mediation CD including a terrific body scan meditation in the back of the book: The Mindful Way through Depression (Williams, Teasedale, Segal, & Kabat-Zinn, 2007). I love this one!

Becoming familiar with and beginning to trust our bodies is important for all of us. It is especially important for people liv-ing with or recovering from physical illnesses like cancer, which is often accompanied by a great sense of betrayal and body mis-trust. Many survivors live with the Sword of Damocles dangling above their heads for years, even a lifetime after living through cancer (Zebrack, 1999). For this reason, demystifying the body’s responses, pains, and feelings is especially important.

We would all like to avoid stress, pain, and sorrow and live care-free in the land of positive thoughts and feelings forever. The reality, however, is that these “negative” elements are pieces of human existence. Ironically, navigating bad feeling states with a bit of mindfulness, acceptance and curiosity will make the journey less painful. Training and experience tells me that emotions only shift when they are fully heard, there is no getting around this piece, and that is no secret. — by Regina Huelsenbeck, Ph.D •

“What goes up must come down,” also known as the law of rhythm. No one is maniacally happy all the time. There is a flow to being human, and that includes times of reverie, reflection and even sadness.

Living Well

Family affairA survival guide for the family reunion

One day in March, as the rain tapped on my window and the wind none too gently rocked the scrub pines, I began reminiscing about the long summer days I have spent with my extended family on LBI over

the years. The memories of parents, cousins, siblings, aunts, and uncles playing in the waves, riding bicycles, and collecting shells overwhelmed me, prompting me once more to pick up the phone and start calling “the family.” The next “family reunion” was officially launched. This caused our family’s newest generation to begin generating a mass of “tweets” (I thought that’s what birds do), emails, and posts. The older folks just returned my calls. Reservations were made and planning began. As I informed my husband and sons of my decision to host yet another family re-union, I saw a look of surprise and incredulity (or, possibly, fear).

At our family reunions, we have celebrated engagements, graduations, christenings, and summer birthdays. We have shared the joys in our lives and, at times, the difficulties and tragedies that have changed our worlds. Family reunions at the shore are

fun, reaffirming, and always full of surprises. But there has also been plenty of unwanted drama and miscommunication. The his-tory of our family reunions is a rich tapestry of joy, excitement, and some regrets, as I suspect it is for all families brave enough to take on the challenge.

Having hosted several family reunions over the years, I have learned a few survival tips I rely on to keep it fun, easy, and relaxed for everyone — especially me! Families that have mastered the art of reunions are those that communicate best and earliest, beginning months before the event. They recognize that the game does have rules. They think about what worked, what did not work, and what needs to be changed. They do not fix what’s not broken - - if no one cares about breakfast, move on and don’t sweat it. But if you start to hear a nagging voice in your head saying things that start with “Every year we have a problem with ... ,” you have to recognize this as a red-flag, announcing that you have an issue(s) that needs to be addressed. Do not ignore the voice! Seek out a solution, brainstorm, and solicit advice from family and friends. Remember, the goal is to avoid the recurring pitfalls. Next year, you do not want to hear

Photos courtesy

the familiar, “Every year ... ,” again.Everyone agrees that shore vacations should be relaxed, unhur-

ried, and a clear break from the daily grind. No one wants or needs a rigid time schedule. For those in the crowd who thrive on schedules, organization, and leadership edicts, this is a major challenge. On the other hand, no one wants the tyrant of tumult to rule. Between chaos and control, there is a smart solution. The invisible hand of subtle organization and preparation, a secret agent of family affairs, can accomplish the mission by following a few simple strategies for survival for both hosts and guests:

• Organize and Delegate Be prepared with a clear answer to the question, “Can I help?”

I post a list of daily jobs and ask everyone to sign up for one. I include everything from taking out the trash to emptying the dish-washer. I give everyone a tour of the kitchen and laundry room. Schedule ahead of time all mealtime responsibilities and clean up crews. Our family has done Daddy Dinners, Kid’s Cookouts, and make-your-own Pizza Extravaganzas. This is the best time to teach your children house guest etiquette. Yes, there is such a thing, even in today’s world! Remind your children to ask how they can help. The easiest and best rule to reinforce with every-one is “Pick up after yourself.” Finally, remember that working together can actually be one of the most fun and important bond-ing experiences a family vacation can offer.

• Less Is BestLess is best. Otherwise, everything just becomes mess. I am of

the school that says all you need is a bathing suit, towel, bucket, and shovel to enjoy the beach. Throw in a deck of cards, a few board games, some music, and a lot of family memories to revisit and now you have all you need for when you’re not sitting in the sand. If it takes you more than 1 hour to load up your vehicle to drive to the shore, you have way too much stuff and are just ask-ing for needless headaches.

• SmileA smile brightens everyone’s day and tends to put most prob-

lems in the shadows. You will feel better wearing a smile. If you cannot smile, grin and bear it.

• Anticipate Stimulus OverloadFamily reunion fatigue usually hits around Wednesday. So, plan

a special outing with just your kids, a romantic dinner, or a quiet walk on the beach. Slow down! After all, this is a vacation. Read local publications for events and family fun activities. Anticipate that there will be times when there is too much activity and that you will need to trigger your emergency escape plan.

• Curbing the Creeping CrudAfter a few days of sharing a house, even the most relaxed

house mates begin to fear the creeping crud. Treat yourself to a midweek cleaning service. Leave the house in the morning and return to clean floors, scrubbed toilets, and an immaculate kitch-en. This splurge will make you feel pampered. My brother and mother always treat me to a day of housecleaning when everyone leaves. Hint: that is a great hostess gift!!

• Set Boundaries For Your Own FamilyEvery extended family consists of many separate families.

Every one of these little families has their own set of rules and

ways of dealing with issues. These are the boundaries you have set for your family, and they need to be respected by all. Discuss with your family that each family has different rules and looks at situations differently, sometimes very differently. Try to under-stand that issues like “curfew” and “candy” are not going to go as smoothly as they may back at home.

• If You Do Not Wish To Attend, Send Your RegardsIf you really cannot be a willing participant in the reunion and

dread the very thought of a week with the family, don’t add fuel to the fire that burns within you or others. Inform others that you regret you will be unable to attend this year. Refrain from a litany of grievances. A simple “I am sorry, we simply cannot make it this year” will do. This makes it a lot easier for next year, when the pressure not to miss two in a row starts to build. On the other hand, if you feel you must attend, try to keep your anxieties to yourself and stay for a shorter period of time. There’s nothing wrong with putting in a brief appearance. Sometimes short, but sweet, is best.

• Maintain A Sense Of HumorMishaps and mess-ups are sure to occur. Take them in stride.

Never pass up the opportunity to laugh. Be silly. Be creatively crazy. Remember that every reunion is a gift and that your at-titude is going to control much of how the vacation goes and how it will be remembered.

• Hold That Thought And Bite Your TongueA week at the shore is not the time to air old grievances or to

dredge up old wounds. Resist the urge to throw out those stinging one-liners and to engage in biting repartee. Even if you do not bruise easily, others may. Again, these times together are gifts, and you should not waste them on useless negativity.

• The KISS Keep It Simple Sweetie! Streamline meals. Remember, many

local restaurants cater. Reduce the laundry load by using a sheets and towel service. Hire a mother’s helper for a few hours. Collect shells, fly a kite, catch fireflies. Simply enjoy each other’s company. Remember that the simple pleasures at the shore are best.

LBI is the perfect place to build family memories, strengthen the ties that bind, and watch each other’s children grow. This is where shared stories become family lore. Family reunions remind us that we are one family, even though we may live far and wide, warts and all. This year, I practiced what I preach, and my 10 simple survival strategies helped make for a great 2009 family reunion.

As the siblings, cousins, parents, and in-laws packed up to leave, another family reunion ended with tearful farewells (hope-fully, tears of joy). We promised to call or email more often. There were numerous rounds of hugs and kisses for everyone. Of course, there was one last frantic search for a missing shoe, toy, and blanket. During the commotion of this emotional departure, though, I suddenly remembered why I do this every year. These are people with whom I share my history, whose love and support I can count on always. In the end, another priceless LBI family reunion hit the old family scrapbook (and even that new Face-book, in the case of our Tweeters). — Christine E. Rooney •

Family affairPhotos courtesy

I’ve heard of the collective unconscious, that melding of minds in some distant spot of the universe. I don’t know if it exists or not, if there is indeed a place where all of our thoughts and emotions gather together. But I do know a place on earth that is like no other, where needs are met, pain is soothed, joy is shared, life is celebrated and support is uncondi-tional — it’s in the heart of a woman.

It’s just what women do. It’s primordial; something that has always been and always will be. It’s instinctive, all encom-passing and magical. In cowboy boots or flip flops, high heels or sneakers, we walk the path of life together. From youth to grey hair, each step of our journey builds a bond of steel.

We bare our souls with no fear of judg-ment. We admit our faults and gain under-standing in return. We celebrate the small things with each other, just to have a reason to laugh. When we are wracked with grief, we stand watch over each other until sleep descends and night blacks out the pain.

We pick up the phone after a hard, long day because we know she needs to hear from us. We galvanize the community to send food and support in times of immea-surable sorrow. We know just when to say, “I will handle this, go home and take some time.” We listen forever about the new child, grandchild, or great grandchild, be-cause it’s her time to talk and share her joy. We jump on a plane, in a car, or on a bike to get there when that phone call happens; distance doesn’t matter, money is of no importance and schedules can go to hell. We sleep on hospital floors when necessary, just

to make sure she is not alone. We arrange a trip and take her along because we know she needs us, and we need her. We lend a hand with an aging parent and agonize over the loss of a loved one. We make sure we tell her how good she looks, how important she is, even when she is not at her best. We talk up her talents and push her to succeed when she doesn’t think she can. When life is wonderful or bleak, when dreams are fulfilled or crushed, when love is abundant or lost, we go through it together.

We drink wine late into the evening and talk about our dark thoughts, God, the universe and more. In the moments of life that are joyous, we celebrate. In the moments that are devastating, we hold on to each other. In the moments that are scary, we huddle together. In the moments that are happy, we laugh with each other. No matter how much time or effort it takes, we share it all. We are not afraid to talk or to cry. We don’t take no for an answer when help is needed. We overstep boundaries because we over care. That’s OK. It’s better to over love than to walk away. We reach out to women we don’t know all that well because we instinctively know that somewhere in her life she has stood strong for another woman, cried for a hurt child, suffered the loss of a loved one, soothed a worry, done battle to right a wrong, or shared joy over a small triumph. It’s a won-drous thing, what we women do. It’s the collective conscious of the heart. — Maggie O’Neill •

What women do...

Living Well

What women do...

Land Snail, Painted Polymita - Polymita picta, found in Eastern Cuba. Painted Polymita grow on low trees and shrubs and feed on the leaves. Pesticides have limited their number, and they are now raised in captivity, before being reintroduced back into their natural habitat.

Queen Miter - Vexillum citrinum filiareginae, uncommon throughout the Indo-Pacific. The Queen Miter has many colorful variations. Most outstanding are the black with the deep orange, separated by the white band. Range in size from two - three inches in length.

Noble Pecten Scallop - Mimachlamys nobilis, Japan, Austral Scallop - Mimachlamys australia, Australia, and Senatorial Scallop - Mimachlamys senatoria, Japan to the Red Sea. All three can grow up to four inches. Colors range from light to dark in purples, reds, yellow, and orange.

Bearded Thorny Oyster - Spondylus barbatus Pacific spiny Oyster - Western Pacific. These Thorny oysters are com-mon in a variety of vivid colors, very fragile spines. Tropical water dwellers, like the other oysters, the spiny oysters attach themselves to hard objects and live stationary waiting for the currents to carry supply phytoplankton for their food.

Echoes of LBI cover shells

While You Were Gone

Dog Days Of Winter. Cheryl Kirby photo

Waitingfor

Summer

A Snowbird Who Stayed Around For The Winter. Kelly Andrews photo

Blankets Of White. Christrine Rooney photoSnow’s Up. Nicole Carreno photo

While you were gone, snow piled up outside

our doors and covered LBI in a thick blan-

ket of white. Surfers climbed over moun-

tains of snow to reach the sea, red birds sat on twigs of

ice and even a coat of fur wasn’t enough to ward off the

cold. Bisque moved to the Wheelhouse, The Terrace

Tavern turned into the Crab Shack and the Arizona Grill

is Nathan’s Hot Dogs. Joe Pops was granted approval for

a Tiki bar with outdoor dining. The wreck of the Fortuna

was re-enacted, the beaches took one heck of a beating,

we experienced some eye popping flood levels on several

occasions, and the causeway ‘shack’ aged a little bit more

with each storm. See what you’re missing when you

leave for the winter? •

Mojito (pronounced Moh-HEE-toh) is a classic Cuban highball traditionally made with 5 ingredients – white rum,

sugar, lime, sparkling water and mint. The name conjures up images of bamboo paddle fans turn-ing lazily in the tropical heat, cigars, hot summer afternoons and steamy Caribbean nights. Ernest Hemingway favored the concoction and drank the cocktail into fame at La Bodeguita del Medio in Havana, Cuba. His legendary consumption of the drink adds to its mystique. Even the term “highball” reminds us of a bygone era, filled with romance and mystery. Most of us have never walked into a bar in this day and age and ordered a “highball”, right? Think again; if you ordered a Mojito, you did. The exotic drink has recently enjoyed an “American Idol” like fame across the US, giving the Cosmo a run for its money as THE trendy drink.

History says the Mojito was born in Cuba, but its early origins are the subject of debate. Some sources trace a similar concoc-tion to the 16th century, using a primitive predecessor to rum. The other ingre-dients were added to mask the alcohol’s taste. Some attribute the modern day Mojito to African slave roots during the 19th century. Wherever its birth, the Mojito has reemerged big time!

Mixing the exotic drink takes expertise and patience. The most common variation (of which there are many), of the classic cocktail is as follows:

1 teaspoon powdered sugar2 ounces lime juice4 mint leaves1 sprig of mint2 ounces white rum2 ounces sparkling waterAssembling the ingredients is the easy part,

but mixing it correctly gets tricky, so follow these steps carefully: Take a tall glass. Place the mint leaves on the bottom. Add the lime juice or juice from a cut lime over the mint. Add the powdered sugar. Gently smash (that is definitely an oxy-moron) the liquid into the mint leaves with a (are you ready?) muddler. A muddler is a long wooden device like a narrow mallet that you use to gently smash things. Add ice cubes to fill the glass. Now the magic ingredient – white rum. Stir. Top off with sparkling water. Garnish with dramatic sprig of mint for effect and to mask any mistakes in the making of the cocktail. Voila – Mojito! A classic

Cuban highball; pretty to look at, delightful to drink. Mojito recipes can be slightly different and variations are all the rage. Dark rum instead of white? Flavored rum for a twist of taste? Tequila instead of rum for a Mexican flavor? As they say, perfection is in the taste buds of the drinker.

But what do our own LBI Mojito-making specialists recommend? In the interest of good journalistic research, I thought I would visit some of our favorite local eating and drinking establish-ments to see what twists and variations they offer. Due to the time and patience it takes to mix, not all places serve them. It was a tough job, but somebody had to do it! I grabbed my designated driver and headed out.

The Plantation in Harvey Cedars is the most sought after location for Mojito’s. Perhaps it is be-cause they serve them everyday as a happy hour special. It is their signature cocktail, perfectly matching their Hemingway-esque décor. The bartender, Rick, was happy to chat with me while making my drink. “We serve a lot of Mojito’s, mostly the classic version. I use plenty of fresh mint, especially in the summer. They take time to prepare. If I get a request for two or three when the bar is busy, I will usually ask if anyone else wants one so I can make them together.” I watched with interest as he muddled away, creat-ing the luscious looking cocktail. The finished

product is an opaque pearl color, with the green of the fresh mint and lime swirling through it. The taste was as invigorating as the look. It was not too sweet, yet light and refreshing.

Down the road at Daddy O’s, I had a chance to chat with the bartender, Tony. He walked me through some of the different variations on the highball that their restaurant offers. I decided to try a mango Mojito. This was a true taste adven-ture! The mango rum complimented the mint and lime perfectly. This version was much sweeter

than the classic, so if a sweet cocktail is not your preference, go with the original. Daddy O’s has a clever list of specialty cocktails that all bear the name of a famous person.

It is no surprise that their Mojito is called an ‘Ernest Hemingway’. Sipping this lovely little

drink on the outside deck during a glorious spring afternoon was a joy. I highly rec-

ommend it. Another day and another DD took me to Beach Haven. The sun was shining and the day was a rare, warm Sunday in April. I took advantage of

the weather and headed to the Engleside. The Sandbar was open and it was the perfect place to try a frozen Mojito. The bartender, Anthony, said the inside bar mixes the original and the Sandbar serves the frozen version. He said they don’t serve as many Mojitos outside as they do daiquiris or pina coladas, but I thought this frozen umbrella treat was quite good. It still had that hint of mint and proved to be a very different and very nice change of pace. Sitting outside under the warm sun, sipping a frozen cocktail is an excel-lent way to do journalist research.

For fresh mint grown by the owner, head over to the Surf City Hotel. They were happy to make me a Mojito, but the clam bar had just opened that day for the season. The bartender, Kristy, wasn’t sure she had mint for the drink. Turns out the owner had her own mint garden out back and was happy to supply Kristy with some fresh, LBI grown mint. Now that is service! Mojitos and clams anyone?

These are just a sampling of the restaurants that will muddle you a Mojito on LBI. As the summer heats up, why not taste the magic of this classic Cuban highball? After all, how often do we get a chance to channel a little Ernest Heming-way? If you do undertake a taste test of your own, email Echoes of LBI and let us know your favorite. Cheers! — Maggie O’Neill •

Mojito Magic

Home & Garden

30 Engleside Avenue • Beach Haven, NJ 08008 • 609-492-1251 • Engleside.com

Stay • The Engleside Inn has something to offer every travelers needs, from families to honeymooners to business people.

Eat • The Engleside Inn boasts three excellent in-house restaurants, and is close to other dining experiences for every budget.

Celebrate • For special occasions and events, our professional staff is ready and waiting to serve you.

The Fortuna

Okay, put down your cell phone, turn

off your computer, your TV, your iPod, and just close your eyes to transport your-self back 100 years to Long Beach Island, 1910. You didn’t drive here; you had to come by train, or walk across on the railroad trestle, or cross the bay in a garvey, since there was no Cause-way back then. Take away the motels, the rental properties, the restaurants, and the guarded beaches that we all enjoy now; it was a pretty deserted island back then. In their place, picture towering sand dunes covered with bayberry and beach plum trees and you’ll feel right at home here in 1910. There was a string of small cottages that dotted the unpaved boulevard run-ning up the middle of the Island. They were occupied by the men of the U.S. Life Saving Service who lived on LBI from November through April, the time more commonly referred to as “the wreck season.” There were thousands of wrecks that occurred along the coast of New Jersey, hundreds of them right off the coast of Long Beach Island, caused by the dangerous shoals known and feared by mariners sailing these waters.

One of the most recent wrecks to occur on Long Beach Island was that of the Fortuna, an Italian bark out of Trapani, Sicily, which ran aground during heavy fog and a turbulent sea

in January, 1910. The heroic efforts of the U.S. Life Saving Ser-vices rescued everyone on board, including a newborn baby. They were housed at the Ship Bottom Life Saving Station and well cared for by the townspeople, while arrangements were

made for their passage back home. It was reported at the time that Captain Adragna had committed suicide while grieving over the loss of his ship and the cancellation of his command. The spectacular wreck and the presence of its victims left an indelible mark on the recorded history of this tragic event.

Time passed by, lives went on, and the wreck of the Fortuna was soon forgotten. In 1983, several severe Nor’easters eroded the beach, exposing the Fortuna’s remains buried beneath the sand for seventy-three years. Then, along came Carole Bradshaw, a summer resident, avid photographer, and dedi-cated beach walker. When she came across the exposed ribs of the old shipwreck, she put her photography skills to work, recording its presence. While crawling through the ribs to take pictures from many creative angles, she spotted the tip of the anchor protruding through the sand. The rest is history. The anchor was recovered, preserved, and put on display in front of the Ship Bottom Borough Hall, just a block down the street

The Wreck of the Fortuna Winter storm of 1910 sinks Italian barque off LBI

from the site of the wreck.But, the story didn’t end

there. What’s a story with-out characters? The people on board the Fortuna were real and the story of how this wreck impacted their lives needed to be told. But who would tell their story? It was up to the newborn baby rescued from the ship. After months of research, many let-ters, and a lot of luck, she was finally located. She provided information about the family up to the time of the wreck. We were able to tell her the details of the wreck and the events that happened after-wards. When the two pieces of the event were merged together, the story about the Fortuna would be complete. It would say more than “One of the most picturesque wrecks of comparatively recent times was that of the gallant Italian bark, Fortuna, a steel ship which was driven ashore at Ship Bottom in a terrific storm during the winter of 1909-10. She came in hard and fast on an even keel. The crew of the Ship Bottom Life Saving Station rescued all on board, includ-ing a newborn baby, a pig and a cat. Her home port was Trapani, Sicily,” as was written in the Lure of Long Beach, once regarded as the official history of Long Beach Island. No research was ever conducted on what became of the cat and the pig.

Many people believe that it was the ship, Fortuna, which gave Ship Bottom its name, but that is not the case. Ship Bot-

tom acquired its name almost one hundred years earlier. In 1817, Stephen Willets, master of a sloop that was used to salvage wrecked ships as well as a volunteer rescue vessel, was sailing along the coast of Long Beach Island during a violent storm. He came across the hull of a ship, bottom side up, being pounded upon a sand bar. He and his crew cut through the hull and rescued one female survivor. Neither the name of the young woman nor that of the ship is known. The part of the Island where the ship was found was there-after called Ship Bottom.

Carole Bradshaw has lived in New Jersey all her life. She has been a summer resident of

Brant Beach since the early 1960s. Her husband’s family had already established their summer home in Brant Beach in the early 1940s. Carole, most often referred to as The Anchorlady, has written a book detailing the whole story of the Fortuna. The book is slated for release in January, 2010, in time for the 100th anniversary of the wreck of the Fortuna.

This historic event was reenacted on the beach of Ship Bottom this past January. It commemorated the 100th anniversary of the wreck of the Fortuna, honoring the mariners who lost their loves at sea, and the heroic efforts of those who saved. Email [email protected] for more information. — Carole Bradshaw •

Tony Deisderio LBI Map prints available exclusively at Things A Drift

Photos courtesy Carole Bradshaw

Home & Garden

Every house has a language and the most remarkable places result from owners who entrust the design or renovation to someone who speaks the “language of

place.” John and Mary Ann Spitznagel, of Tidal Drive in Loveladies, were indeed fortunate to have found someone who does.

When they bought their second LBI property at 17 Bea-con in 2000, they had Mark Reynolds, of Reynolds Land-scaping in Manahawkin, design and maintain the botanical infrastructure, as well as the annual flower rotations. For years, Reynolds has created stunning gardens and land-scaped properties all over the area, using plants that deliver in sand, saltwater, and high wind environments.

In 2005, when the Spitznagels bought all four lots of this remarkable, undeveloped peninsula that offers the most spectacular views on Long Beach Island and may be one of the best spots in coastal New Jersey, they turned to Reyn-olds again for the landscaping work.

The opportunity was given to Mark by John and Mary Ann to influence the design for both the home’s architec-ture and surrounding property. John Spitznagel said, “This was truly a relationship built on trust.”

The conversation began between husband, wife and Mark Reynolds, who not only has a great eye, but a great ear. He’s a listener, someone who pays attention. He knew the Spitznagels wanted “their best life”—and Reynolds could see how to create that best life right there, blending interiors and exteriors seamlessly to create the well-crafted pieces of a perfect puzzle. So well-crafted and so perfect that it is both natural and cutting edge, extroverted and serene, exuberant and contemplative.

A place to live a real “best life.”First, everyone had their work cut out for them. Blow

out the windows, open up the interior space, maximize the magnificent views—now you can stand in any number of spots in the house and only turn your head to take in the 270-degree unobstructed view from bridge to lighthouse and beyond.

BayEscapeWhere nature preserve and cutting-edge design meet ...

Spitznagels’ Loveladies home

Over three years, Reynolds designed, built, and renovated various facets of the property.

John and Mary Ann love people, entertaining, and the natural world. Now this 5,000-square-foot home says they can have it all, blending sleek modern amenities and a hearth-like warmth with marsh and wetlands — a two-story-plus Spanish Antequera limestone fireplace chimney; a bay-front wood fire pit of sandstone boulders; custom barbeque; and one of the most dramatic outdoor showers on the island, made of western red cedar and Brazilian mahogany, enhanced by site-specific lighting crafted by Tanek Hood, lighting designer and son-in-law to Mark Reynolds. Hood brings to the company a love of light, an extreme sensitivity to the terrain and the views, and how to create outdoor night scapes that will extend living choices without compromising nocturnal space. Here, Hood has used up lights that work with escaping ambient light to allow a soft glow, as well as other modalities to illuminate showers, walkways, and the deck.

If only you could experience it all: the crushed stone drive, the rustic set of train tracks you must cross, the small vineyard. It feels as if you are driving down an isolated road in the wil-derness — less the breaks on your sight line through the pines where you can see the bay and marshland to the south — head-ing to a nature preserve. But then you are at this dramatic angular home, with white cedar siding, deeply sloped roofs of red cedar shakes, windows and more windows, and dramatic expanses of native plant material interspersed with hydrangeas, roses, and vibrant annual plantings.

Overlooking Barnegat Bay, a triangular pool is surrounded by a mahogany deck and segmented into intimate seating areas. Once inside, there’s a chef’s kitchen designed by Francie Milano Kitchens, expansive living areas, bathrooms of wood, stone and glass, much of it redesigned and reoriented by Reyn-olds, and all of it impacted by Mary Ann Spitznagel and the palette sensibility of Wendy Wilshin of WLW Designs in Manhattan.

Binoculars rest on a table, a chair, the bathroom vanity. They are bird watchers, egret watchers, otter watchers, and fox watchers. It is a far cry from their city life in Manhattan. Often they kayak, but when the winds are up, it’s likely the Spitzna-gels, avid sailors of two Catboats, can be found out traversing the bay. They celebrate daily life with their children, their grandchildren, and their friends, of which they now count the Reynolds family.

The strongest binding thread is perhaps the way wetlands and marsh coexist with this contemporary home, the way the built environment — buildings, plantings and light — supports the natural environment — trees, grasses and moon-light on water.

This house says warmth and livability, without sacrificing the elegance.

As night falls on Barnegat Bay, a sliver of moon balances in a beautiful bruise of sky. A salsa beat pulses by the pool, laughter tinkers with the night. Conversations move on wind currents. This is a house and a family of relationships that cre-ate a “best life.” — Annaliese Jakimides •

Home & Garden

This house says warmth and livability, without sacrificing the elegance ...

Bringing a new dimension to kitchen design

1418 Central Avenue, Ship Bottom, NJ 08008(609) 494-0011

Visit our showroom and experience the differenceM-F 8am - 4pm • Sat. by appointment

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Jerry Milano Joy Milano

Home & Garden

“I have been a gardener all of my life. However, the

crop is different today than it was so many years ago. In 1966, I began teaching in the Carmel/Clay Schools – a suburban school district north of Indianapolis. I have continued to “gar-den”- growing children in one capacity or the other ever since; currently, as the superintendent/principal of Beach Haven School.

On the other hand, as a gardener of plants, I am a neophyte. I have found myself becoming increas-ingly concerned with the general safety of our food supply. The desire to get food from the farm to the table more quickly has introduced growth hormones and greater antibiotic usage by livestock farmers.

The unintended side effect has been the onset of antibiotic resistance and early maturation in our children. Working with children for nearly 35 years, I have noted this phenomenon first hand. I am a believer, however, the mass media has further strengthened my belief.

The China Study is a vast compilation of research warning of the health dangers Americans face from consuming the “western diet” day in and day out. Barbara Kingslover, always a favorite author, writes about eating well locally in her book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. Slow Food Nation, Hope’s Edge, In Defense of Food and Quantum Wellness are all worthwhile reads involv-ing our increasingly compromised food supply. Each book rein-forces the other in regard to the importance of eating mindfully. Food is no different than medicine. We consume it in order to live. The degree to which we know which nutrients we need, which plants provide those nutrients, and how those nutrients are handled prior to getting to us is the degree to which we can expect good health.

On a recent trip to Armenia, I had the good fortune of eat-ing peasant food each day prepared by the local villagers. The Armenians are too poor to purchase fertilizers and insecticides. The food was pure, like the food in America was prior to the end of World War II. Did you know that after WWII, Monsanto (an agricultural company) had left over munitions they didn’t know what to do with; and they were in danger of losing their foothold in the business world? They took those munitions – known to

be carcinogenic and turned them into fertilizers and in-secticides for our fields. The crops grew well, but at what cost?

I had already become a vegetarian as a result of the China Study. The trip reinforced what I had read. I wanted to take charge of my eating and the only way to do that was to “grow my own.” My seeds come from the Seed Exchange in Decorah, Iowa. The Exchange specializes in high quality seeds. The seeds are pure. They have no growth hormones or other harmful substances. And, the Exchange has a vast variety

of heirlooms – seeds that have been lost to the larger market. In early spring – March or April, I start my “greenhouse/nursery.” I have restaurant shelves in my very small laundry area. I start my seeds in “peat plugs.” Fluorescent lights are hung from the shelves. They provide illumination for long periods of time during the germination stage. The lighting is decreased as the seedlings take hold. In May, the seedlings are transplanted into raised beds outside. The raised beds are filled with mushroom compost – mushroom soil is as important to the process as yeast is to bread.

Each of these early steps is just a prelude to what happens once the fledglings get the benefits of sunshine and rain. There is growth everyday. A bounty comes from such little effort – potatoes, corn, parsley, basil, beets, carrots, Swiss chard, kale, tomatoes – oh, those tomatoes, eggplant, cabbage, beans, but-ternut squash, cucumber, arugula, lettuce, leek . . . . .

The bounty of my garden provides healthy meals for me and a generous supply to share. I jar sauce from my tomatoes for the winter months. I freeze tomatoes, as well. My Bread and Butter pickles that have gotten rave reviews.

Why do I garden? I thought I gardened to nourish my body. But what I have found is that gardening actually nourishes my soul. The earth is my home; the last time I checked it is the only home I have. I have to be a good steward of this “home.” Mindful gardening puts me close to the earth. I have learned that a seed is a wonderful thing. It really wants to grow. It has a job to do and it ever so earnestly tries to do it. All I have to do is care for it and it cares for me ten, one hundred, even a thousand fold. The same is true of the earth. Gardening makes me happy.” — Pat Daggy •

Soul gardener Why I garden.

Perfect PestoWhenever I go to a party and ask the host, “What would you like me to bring?” their usual response is, “Do you have any more of that

pesto?” It seems to have become my claim to fame. I must admit it is delicious and quite versatile. I have a small yard, but I manage to grow basil and a few other herbs, so my pesto is organic and fresh. It can also be fresh frozen for a tasty winter delight. My recipe is a combination of a few others that I have gotten from friends throughout the years. Depending on how large a batch I can make, measurements can vary. However, these are the ingredients:

3 Cups basil leaves (packed, then chopped in a food processor or blender)1-1/2 Cups olive oil1/2 Cup butter (optional if you want to lower fat content)1/2 Cup walnuts, pine nuts or a combination (chopped)1 1/2 Cups grated parmesan cheese1/4 Cup chopped parsley1 1/2 Tablespoons of chopped garlic (more if you really like garlic)2 Teaspoons sea salt (optional)1 Teaspoon pepper

Ingredients should be chopped and mixed together. You can do them all together in a blender or food processor for smoother run-nier pesto, or you can chop them individually and then mix them together for a chunkier pesto (my favorite way). To change the con-sistency of the pesto, add more or less olive oil. Sometimes when adding pesto to a dish or salad, you may need a thinner consistency. When using it as a dip or spread, you may want it to be thicker or chunkier. Of course, the best pesto is made from freshly picked basil and parsley. If you can grow lots of plants, then you can make larger quantities and freeze for the winter. We really enjoyed pesto dip at the Super Bowl Party last year. — Rena DiNeno

Soy Candles & MoistureizerAwaken your senses and soothe your soul with all-natural, Evergreen Candleworks organic soy candles — and feel great about doing something

good for yourself, our nation’s farmers, and the environment. Each candle is handcrafted to burn longer and more fragrant than parafin. Silky Soy Moisture Bar is handcrafted with shea butter and soy making for a superior mositurizer ideal for healthy skin. Alpineglow candles and Silky Soy moisturizer candles are created with a vision of health for people and the environment, using all-natural soy wax made from U.S. soybeans. The green family business, nestled in the Rocky Mountains, runs on 100% wind power that they reduce, reuse and recycle. After the candle is used up, just clean with soap and hot water then reuse the container! Pick a few up at Things A Drift in Ship Bottom, LBI.

Home & Garden

At the age of ten, I started cooking. My Ital-ian Grandmother owned and operated a deli

in Brooklyn -- “Eddie’s Superette.” My mother worked in the deli, so I was the chef at home. One of my earliest memories is making my first batch of chicken soup. We were out of tomatoes, so I used ketchup. Well, it was made out of to-matoes! When I served the soup, my father knew right away what I had done. He immediately complained to my mother. “Eat it,” my mother retorted in my defense. “It is her first time mak-ing chicken soup!” I knew at a young age that one of the secrets of any good cook is the ability to improvise.

This was the beginning of a life long passion. I learned that as long as you use fresh ingredients and take your time to do it right, people will enjoy your food. With all this cooking practice at home, I had the opportunity after high school to attend on scholarship the Betty Crocker School of Cooking. I did not follow my culinary dreams at this time, however; I followed my heart.

In the summer of 1968, I met Peter Vietyes, the man who would become my husband and father of my son. I loved cooking and sharing food with my growing extended family and friends. My kitchen was always filled with the aromas of home cooking. I began to add new recipes to my repertoire. My mother-in-law taught me to prepare many of Peter’s Spanish childhood favorites, such as paella. While learning these new recipes, I improvised and adapted them and made them my own.

Our family purchased a house in Beach Haven West in 1987. Every weekend, I filled our car with all the ingredients I needed to bring my specialties alive at the Jersey Shore. I brought bags of fresh mozzarella, basil, garlic, Italian bread, my home-made sauces, as well as the ingredients to make my husband’s favorites — chorizo, saffron, rice and hot peppers. Occasionally, I thought of opening a restaurant or deli at the Jersey Shore. I loved nothing more than preparing fresh, wholesome food for

my family and friends. As our circle of friends grew, so did the number of place settings at our table.

Then, one stormy evening on the way to the Shore, we got a flat. As my soaking wet husband was unloading all of my cooking supplies, uten-sils, and food to get to the spare tire, he made a decision. No more schlepping! I would open a deli on Long Beach Island so all of my sup-plies would be right here at the Shore. When he presented me with the idea, I must admit, I was apprehensive. What did I know about running a business? He quickly pointed out my family

had been in the deli business for years. “Everyone loves your cooking. This has always been your dream,” Peter reminded me. Peter had great faith in me. Assured by his confidence, we began to plan our deli.

So, in 1992, we opened the Surf City Deli. We quickly became well known, not only with summer visitors, but with locals, as well. The year round community embraced us. Anyone that has spent time in my company knows that when I get to know you, you are family. The Deli quickly became a full time family affair. My husband, my son, and I all cooked and worked together at our Deli for 14 years.

In those 14 years we owned and operated the Deli, our extended family and friends on the Island came to rely on us to for births, weddings, birthdays, religious celebrations, and, unfortunately, even deaths. Many times as our summer friends and “family” packed up to head west over the causeway, a tear or two often streamed down my face.

I can honestly say that I am glad I followed my deli dream at the Shore and that I got to learn one of life’s most important lessons: no matter what your dream, follow it. So, good luck, fellow dreamers. I hope you are as lucky as my family. Who knows, maybe you’ll even be lucky enough to get to follow your dreams, here, on Long Beach Island. — Virginia Viegtes •

Home & Garden

Deli Dream

Local Artists • Long Beach Island PhotographySave the date! October 2 & 3, Saturday and Sunday, 10:00- 3:00 Sea glass jewelry sales and demonstrations, lectures on local interest, shelling in New Jersey, seaglass, artifacts. Bring your best pieces of glass show and tell. Contest for the best of New Jersey and the Best of LBI, bring your strange and rare finds from Long Beach Island or Jersey coast. Book signings, pirates. Sample Denis’ homemade chowder, he is happy to make enough for my mini festival. Call for full details: 609-361-1668, or e-mail [email protected].

Seaglass contest winners of 2009Art show and sales and Mini Seaglass Festival

When I think of home, I think of the beach, the bay, boating, fishing, surfing, swimming, family, fun, and yes, food. To me, the best food on earth is the

Jersey tomato. The only bad thing about the Jersey tomato is that you just can’t get one in Colorado, where I currently live. Last summer, I was lucky enough to be able to come home to Ship Bottom for the month of August. I raved so much about Jersey tomatoes before I left for New Jersey that my Colorado friends wanted me to bring a few back with me to try. I went back with 15 pounds of Jersey tomatoes, but decided that my Colorado friends are fairly new and just not quite tomato wor-thy yet. I then ate them all, feeling justified that they didn’t know what they were missing anyway.

The “eating local” movement is gaining strength and has been in the press a lot lately. It’s the “green” thing to do and does make sense environmentally since the product does not have to travel far to get to its final destination, thus using less resources. If you think about how far certain types of produce and other food products have to travel to be available at all times of year, you’ll realize the huge environmental impact of eating non-local foods and what eating locally can mean for our future. Eating locally also means eating with the seasons, so summer is a great time to try going local since local produce and seafood is so widely available. When eating out, think about what you order and ask where your food is from, once restaurants realize that their customers care about fresh, local food, they will provide it more often, if they do not already.

Eating local foods is also beneficial to the local economy, as buying food produced in New Jersey from local merchants means the money from the entire cost of the product stays in the area. In New Jersey, it also means you’ll be eating pretty healthy since the Garden State produces tons of great, healthy food, such as sweet white corn, blueberries, cranber-ries, peaches, blue claw crabs, flounder, bluefish, scallops, clams, and of course, my Jersey tomato. Last summer, when I became devoted to eating mainly local foods, I learned how to can to save the bountiful (and cheaper) summer produce for the winter. Canning has found a resurgence in the eating local movement and is becoming popular again.

The eating local movement doesn’t mean you have to give up things like avocados and bananas or your favorite imported item just yet. It’s just a way to start thinking about where your food comes from and encourages you to make a choice to go local, when you can. I try my best to eat locally, but my mom has even shipped me Jersey tomatoes and scallops when I couldn’t come home one summer. Yes, I understand that totally defeats the purpose of going local, but nothing beats local food when that food is from New Jersey! — Nicole McGann •

Going Local in the Garden State

Maggie M. O'Nei l lReal Estate Sales

Century 21 Mary Al len Realty , Inc .Ship Bottom, NJ

609-494-0700www.njbeachhouse.net

"oh g ive me a house

by the shining sea,

by the waves and the

sand and the sky. . . "

Green LBI

Recycle with LBI Exchange

Spring cleaning is done, but what do you do with your “too good to throw out, but I just don’t

use it anymore” pile of stuff? Barnegat Light local, Sarah Ann Miller, has an answer. Miller started LBI Exchange.

LBI Exchange is an online web site for trading, sell-ing, and giving away all sorts of items. It’s a free ex-change where your ‘stuff’ can magically become your neighbor’s ‘stuff.’ While it may sound like a George Carlin routine, the new web site is an excellent forum for recycling and re-using all sorts of good ‘stuff.’

The idea for the Exchange was fueled by a sim-ilar effort Miller learned about while on Nantucket Island. Patterned after that effort, LBI locals can email a picture and description of an item they want to sell, trade, or give away. It is then posted on the LBI Ex-change website. The web site is easy to use and easy to search. Takers who find an item they want can contact the givers directly. Some items are free, some are for trade or exchange, and others are for sale. In this day and age, recycle, re-use, or exchange is the smart, green way to go. You can visit the web site at www.LBIEx-change.com. Happy trading! •

My sister, Cheryl Kirby, came up with the name and idea for SIS-TER SUSY’S BAGS. Cheryl owns Things A Drift in Ship Bottom. We

both dislike the plastic bags that most stores use for customer purchas-es. They take years to disintegrate, fly away easily, and end up in our fields, backyards and who knows where. I have seen them around the necks and bodies and even in the stomachs of fish and other defenseless wildlife. So, I did something to make a difference. I made myself a few cloth bags for my shopping trips. No more excess plastic bags around the house for me! Cheryl wanted some for her customers. I had a closet full of fabric just aching to be useful. We started talking about how many people consider outgrown clothing or out of date fashions as trash and how most of that trash ends up in our local landfills. Clothing takes so many resources to make, from growing the plants for fibers, to making it into material, to shipping fabric to the mills, to the energy to run the factories that make the garments, shipping finished clothing to retail outlets. I suddenly realized that used clothing was a great resource for recycling material. So, my way of helping the environment is by turning jeans, shorts, skirts, shirts, coats and draperies into fashion bags.

Recycling materials is not a new idea. In the 1930s, during the Great Depression, cloth flour sacks were a prized possession. Our thrifty grand-mothers had many uses for those flour sacks. Flour and feed sacks were made into curtains, dresses and even underwear. Do you have a favorite pair of designer jeans that you just can’t throw away? Send them to me. I will make you your own fashion bag. Help the environment by using your sturdy cloth fashion bag at the store. Chose my recycle cloth bags instead of plastic. For more info, call 304-846-4073, email me at [email protected], or visit sistersusysbags.com. •

Sister Susy’s Bags

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it is ordered. Nothing is pre-cooked. Always fresh. See you real soon. Mahalo!

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Poetry

Always — by Maggie O’Neill

You are goneI will go to a house by the seaI will stand at the waters edgeThe salt air will mingle with my tearsMy cries will mix with the sound of the gullsI will walk the shore for milesUntil slowly, like the tidesThe pain of your passingWill wash out of meFloating far awayOnly to wash back Over and overI will ride a wave of memoryFilled with youYou are goneI will live in this house by the seaIt will heal me And I will love youAlways

God’s a Woman — by Christine Rooney

I know it’s so. How do I know ?Evergreens dusted with diamonds.Dawn’s ribbons of coral, pink and orange.Meadows of crocheted Queen’s Anne lace.Gentle breezes kiss my face. How do I know it is so? Today told me so.

Frankly, It’s Just a Shack — by Frank Finale

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 allyour duck hunters, the dark holesof 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 decayedpast, you still shine in the mindsof those who zoom by you on their way to summer.. An artist paints you.

Jellyfish — by Frank Finale

Moon parachutes glowing, pulsating and pale, drift in the flowing tides rhythmic as living lungs.All summer they cloud the ocean a shine of galaxies, ascending, descending, they mesmerizeAnd we are forced to see their ghostly movements with the sea’s currents. LittleMore than water, the circled rim of their fringed tentacles sweep algae toward their mouths. A sea turtleMistakes a plastic bag for jellyfish camouflage. Lucky as their neon four-leaf clovers, they escape through the mistake.Through six hundred million years, the simple form of them still exists … translucent iridescences.Every fall, their tide-tossed bodies like plastic lids litter the shore leaving their larvaBehind to survive the winter storms. Kids on beaches pick up the lifeless lids frisbeeing the air with the remains.

Make a Wish — Nancy Nace

When the sky turns to velvet dark blue,And, the universe is yours to view,Shooting stars are known to take flightAnd, just for a moment they burn so bright!Now, if by chance you have such a magical night,Make a wish!And, it will take flightOut to the universe that very night!And, if the wish is heartfelt from you,Your wish is bound to come true.

Pete Milnes photo

ATTENTION! Young Budding Poets!!!

Echoes of LBI Magazine 2nd Annual

Diamante Poem Contest A diamante is a poem in the shape of a diamond. It can be about one subject or two opposite subjects. It does not have to rhyme, but it does have to follow a specific format and have seven lines:

Line one is a noun and names the first subject. Line two describes the first subject using two adjectives. Line three describes the first subject using three words ending in “ing.” Line four consists of four nouns. The first two describe the first subject and the last two describe the ending subject. Line five describes the ending subject with three words ending in “ing.” Line six describes the ending subject with two adjectives. Line seven, the last line, names the ending subject. The first subject and ending subject can be opposites (antonyms) or about related subjects.

An example of a diamante using opposite subjects in line one and seven:

HotSteamy, smoky

Sizzling, burning, meltingSunburn, flames, popsicles, ice cream

Chilling, freezing, snowingCool, crisp

Cold

An example of a diamante using related subjects in line one and seven:

SandDry, soft

Blowing, drifting, playingSandcastles, dunes, tides, saltwater

Spraying, splashing, roaringSalty, foamy

Surf

Please submit your diamante poem to [email protected]., or [email protected] by September 1, 2010. Top entries will be featured in our next issue. Submissions will be judged in the following categories: (1) Age 7 and under. (2) Age 8 – 12 (3) Age 13 – 18. •

Seagullsloud, white

Soaring, annoying, stealingBeak, feathers, claws, tiny eyesScurrying, snapping, digging

Hard-shelled, redCrabs

— Jean Marsicovete, age 14

SUPAwesome Peaceful

Balancing Floating StandingBoards Water Seats PaddleRelaxing Gliding Sitting

Green FunKayak

— Zoe Deakyne, age 8

New BikesVibrant, rhythmic

Spinning, flying, fleetingSpokes, curves, flat, rust

Waiting, chipping, wishingUsed, forgotten

Old Bikes

— Cate Wright, age 13

Lighthouse Tall, historical

Revolving, shining, reflecting Attraction, structure, landmark, monument

Providing, protecting, guidingRed, whiteOld Barney

— Alyssa Smith, age 12

OceansEcstatic, Wavy

Bubbling, Crashing, ExcitingSurfboard, Shells, Starfish

Calming, Soothing, CrabbingWarm, Shallow

Bay

— Mason Scner, age 11

Diamante Poem Finalists - 2009

Books

What does the town of Oceanside, New Jersey have in common with Long Beach Island? Quite a lot. In fact, there are several striking similari-

ties between the two places. If you are wondering why you have never heard of Oceanside, it is because it exists only in the pages of The Secret Within, a gripping novel by author Theresa Golding. “I have always loved Long Beach Island,” Gold-ing said, “and it was great fun to use it as the setting of my story.” Golding used the named Oceanside in place of Long Beach Island because the plot of the story required a few locations that don’t actually exist on LBI.

Though the novel has garnered awards in Missouri, Rhode Island, and Georgia, it is pure New Jersey from the first sentence to the last. From the ocean to the tee shirt stores and pizza shops, Long Beach islanders will recognize their town. “I have been visiting Long Beach Island for decades,” Golding said, “and there are so many things to love about this place. I wanted the island to come alive for my readers. I was particularly proud that one book reviewer wrote that the setting was so beautifully portrayed, she could almost smell the salt air while reading.”

The Secret Within is a fast-paced, compelling novel for those aged 12 and up, but will be enjoyed by anyone who loves a good mystery. It is the story of Carly Chambers, a 13-year-old girl who has a secret that she has carefully guarded all her life. With her family constantly on the move, it had been an uneasy secret to keep. Until now. This summer in Oceanside, everything is unraveling. Carly eventually finds herself trapped in a double game of cat and mouse. It’s a dangerous game. One that can end only when Carly confronts her father, her own fear, and the secret within. In this poignant novel, Carly discovers that sometimes the only thing worse than revealing a painful secret — is keeping it.

It is no secret, however, that Long Beach Islanders will enjoy this exciting book and will have fun recognizing their town in its pages. For more information on The Secret Within and other books by Theresa Golding, you can visit her website at www.theresagolding.com. •

Gold medal winner in the Independent Publishers Living Now “Books for Better Liv-ing” award and shortlisted for the da Vinci Eye medal for Cover of the Year (Eric

Hoffer Awards), A Beachcomber’s Odyssey is a beach book like no other. 19 Beaches. 19 Life Lessons. 19 Beach Treasures. 34 amazing full color photos of sea glass and fossils, shells, pottery shards, driftwood, fishing floats and more. Mixing science with beauty and inspiration, A Beachcomber’s Odyssey, Volume 1 is the first of two “beachlogs” that follow Ritterbush’s sandy footprints as she re-traces beachcombing expeditions across some of the world’s most beautiful and/or remote shorelines. Each beach offered up fascinating treasures and inspirational life lessons that helped her and may help you navigate through many of life’s rocky shoals. Woven throughout are stunning photos and intriguing facts about our world. Find out where the real “Treasure Island” is located. Where “time” begins. The age of water in your drinking cup or the difference between magic pebbles, sea gems and button drops.

A shipwreck, an anchor, and a baby. What do they all have in common? When I found a small piece of red tile tossing around in the surf on Long Beach Island, New

Jersey, I was about to find out. In 1910, the Fortuna was driven ashore in a violent storm, and through the heroic efforts of the men of the U.S. Lifesaving Service, everyone was rescued, including a newborn baby. But the Fortuna was not so lucky; she fell over into the turbulent surf and could not be saved. Seventy-three years later, I almost tripped over the anchor left behind by the salvagers. But the story didn’t end there. To me, there was only one thing left to do - find the baby who was born on and rescued from the Fortuna in 1910. FORTUNA is like putting together a puzzle. Each piece has a story to tell, and the story won’t be complete until the last piece is put into place. FORTUNA is an engaging story. It’s part history, part adventure, and it’s totally true. www.fortunabook.com. •

The

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Things A Drift on LBI

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Ship Bottom - Dolphins - Beaches - The Dunes - Crabs - Garden State - Echoes of LBI - Fishing - Salt Water Taffy

Barnegat Light - Coast Guard - Biking - B&B - Ice Cream - Ferries - Atlantic City - Down the Shore - Loveladies

50 & Counting

The “Miss Magic Long Beach Island” series was introduced in the premiere issue of Echoes of LBI magazine. I was privileged to share my memories as Miss Magic 1961. My name is Madeline

Rodgers, and the story continues this time with Miss Magic Long Beach Island 1964, Carolsue Jones Cummings.

Carolsue has an interesting story. She is a Jersey girl who grew up in Merchantville. Her family spent summers on Long Beach Island since 1949. Carolsue was about to start her first year at Penn Hall College in Chambersburg, Penn., when she won the 1964 crown ... We remi-nisced about her life and time as Miss Magic.

Carolsue remembers the excitement of waiting for the Beach Haven Times to come out. Each week, a new finalist was announced. Her picture was posted in the paper and on special Pageant boards at the Board of Trade Building and around the Island at the local merchant sponsors. There were 10 finalists chosen, and the competition was traditionally held on the first Friday after Labor Day.

Mayor Kline, Board of Trade Director, oversaw the events of the Pageant Day. He made sure everything ran smoothly. Carolsue recalls starting her day with a motorcade tour of the Island where the girls were introduced to the public. “We stopped in each town to meet the Mayors who seemed to enjoy the event as much as we did. They were so nice and gave us kind words and local gifts.”

After the motorcade, we rode to Widas Restaurant in Brant Beach for the evening competition. Joe Hayes of the Surflight Theatre was

the MC. As always, he was fun. He could not resist teasing Sandy Stefanew (1963) about her new married name (Sandy Bottoms). Carolsue competed in the Bathing Suit, Evening Gown & Personality Divisions. Then it was time for the big announcement! When I heard Joe Hayes call out my name, I thought, “Is that me? I was in a daze. I remember everyone hugging me and then the tears came.” Carolsue Jones had just been chosen the new Miss Magic Long Beach Island and an excit-ing time was about to unfold in her life.

The new Queen had a busy year with grand openings, motorcades and award presentations, like the Striped Bass Derby. She recalls the fun of being an honorary member of the Atlantic City Beach Patrol and meeting the Governor of New Jersey, Richard Hughes. She also participated in two movie promotions for the NJ Department of Tourism. These are some of her won-derful memories.

After college graduation, Carolsue took a summer job at the Beach Haven Bank. While working there she met Donald Cum-mings, a local congressman from Surf City. They fell in love and were married a year later. Carolsue became a year-round resident on the Island.

She continued to work at the bank until her second child was born (the Cummings have 3 daughters). She spent the next several years at home raising her girls and working the family retail office supply business. But Carolsue always felt there was something missing in her life. For some time now, she felt a different calling, but kept putting it out of her mind. Finally she decided to talk to her Episcopal Priest. She was hesitant because “this priest was not big on women’s involvement.”

How surprised she was to learn that he was aware of her calling and was waiting for her to come to him; and so, she began her formal training. She started her field ministry with a church in Ventnor and a soup kitchen for the homeless in Atlantic City, working hard to provide nutritious meals to many needy people. Finally, Carolsue was feeling back on track.

On June 9, 1990, Carolsue became an ordained minister at Trinity Cathedral in Trenton, NJ. After her ordination, she worked in health care at Shore Memorial Hospital in Somers Point, NJ. Since February 1999, she was the clergy assistant at St. Stephen’s Church in Waretown. She is also the Chaplain and bereavement counselor at SOCH (Southern Ocean County Hospital) in Mana-hawkin, N.J. She told me this work had a special meaning for her because she could not find the help she needed when her Mom passed on, so now helping others deal with the loss of a loved one has special rewards for her.

Till next time when we bring you another Miss Magic Long Beach Island story. — Madeline Rodgers •

Miss Magic 1964 Carolsue Jones Cummings

As a young boy, my father enjoyed spending time in the tailor shop his parents owned and operated. His parents immigrated to this country from Italy and brought with

them their creative skills. They established “Jerry’s and Compa-ny,” an elegant dress shop where they designed and made bridal and evening wear. Due to their unmatched work ethic and love of people, they were well respected in the business world and community. As parents, they instilled in my father not only his deep rooted work ethic, but a love of culture and art.

In 1938, they bought a house in Harvey Cedars, on Long Beach Island. Although dad was only 12 years old, he quickly developed a deep love of nature and appreciation for the beauty of island life. He spent many summers here and learned to use his talents to paint the endless seascapes that abound. It was here that my father would find his true inspiration and passion. It was here he would define the good life.

Dad joined the Navy in 1944 and proudly served for two years aboard the Battleship USS Guam. He made life-long friends with many of his shipmates and later attended his battleship reunions religiously. While in the Navy, he traveled to many shores, but none would be as dear to him as Long Beach Island.

In 1950, dad made Harvey Cedars his permanent home and built his oceanfront house on Bergen Avenue, and began his new life on Long Beach Island.

Work was scarce, but this was the good life that he had dreamt

of. Dad worked as a builder, a house painter and dabbled in ceramic tile laying — often creating shore scenes in mosaics for friends’ bathroom walls.

In 1956, he found Frank J. Milano Tile, and that would be his love and career for the next 55 years. He taught his son Jerry the trade, as well as nephews, grandchildren and even his daughter-in-law, Joy, who with Jerry, has carried on the tradition for more than four decades. He taught me the business, and I also worked in his showroom for many years. It was his trusting and honest heart that I most admired.

Now, life wasn’t always good. Dad suffered losses along the way, most notably the loss of everything we owned in 1962, due to the great March Storm. With no flood insurance, we were left with only the clothes on our backs. I never heard my father complain; he picked us up and pushed on. We were very thank-ful to be alive.

Over the years that followed, dad worked hard building a business, raising a family and loving life. He truly enjoyed his work. He taught us to love our work as well and inspired us to find and pursue our own passions.

In November 2007, dad passed away at the age of 81. He worked until his death, as did my grandparents — retirement was not a goal. But there were no regrets; he lived his life how he wanted and where he wanted; it was his idea of a good life. — Francie Milano text & photo •

The good life

Frank Milano, age 12, (left) with cousin Chico on the beach in Barnegat Light.

“Up and at ‘um! Sun’s over the dune and the weather-man predicts temps in the 80s with a brisk wind! Customers arriving lickety-split, time’s a wasting!”

This would be the start of a summer day for lean, lanky Stanely Dymkowski, at his 17th Street bayside marina in Ship Bottom in the early 1960s.

Always a diligent, dedicated worker at his small farm in Riv-erside, N.J., and in his previous government job during WWII in Roebling, he inspired all his family to emulate his lead; listen, follow the rules and succeed in life. And they did, especially the four kids, twins Lee Ann and Randy, Stash, Eddie and David. Jaja (Stanley’s nickname) was captain, so they didn’t quibble with the strict safety rules around the water of this small boat rental business while helping during the summer vacation. Even Joey, the pet gull, felt safe to eat from Stanley’s hand at the fish cleaning table. He followed orders too, snapping up scraps as fish scales went flying.

Getting the 14-foot wooden boats ready to rent involved quite a bit of work. Fresh white paint was applied each season, with a red bottom and crisp red edge along the gunnel. Like Barnegat Light’s day mark of red and white, Stanley’s boats were easily recognized on the bay. Using binoculars while stand-ing on the end of the dock, he could spot and thus rescue stranded tourists on a mud flat. Customers re-turned year after year where a warm Polish welcome, “witac”, and 1960s rental prices prevailed.

Crab traps were dropped each morning from the dock as well as his special big blue boat, the Dimmy. Smelly bunker purchased in Mudd City was weighted in the traps and sold to customers to bait their own lines. Each 5 horsepower motor was filled with gas (repaired by the kids, too), life jackets and flotation pillows dispersed, and boats hosed down at five

o’clock, making everything secure, ship-shape.Summer vacation? Working hard on the bay under a hot sun

was a holiday? Yes. It was hard work, but also fun even for some of the local kids who found their way to Stanley’s Marina. He may have been rough around the edges, stubborn and a strict boss, but it was a vacation to remember for a lifetime. A double bonus was the chunky chowder ladled by BaBa (Stanley’s wife) in the tiny kitchen for lunch, or boiled crabs picked at the table out back, lit by a rosy sunset glowing on rosy happy faces.

Thank you, JaJa Stanely. Dziekuje! — Carol Freas text &photos •

PS- A small boat, the LeeAnn, built for his only granddaughter, was accidentally sold and the family would like to sail it back home if you have seen it ...

Stanley’s Marina

“Stanley & Joey” artwork by Robert Sakson

(Stanley & Joey)

50 & Counting

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Surf City Marina Boat Sales • 337 W 8th St, Ship Bottom • 609-361-5200Bombardier Dealer • Sea-Doo personal Watercraft • Showroom in Ship Bottom

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Between the years 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 real-life 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 much 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 be-cause of the false assumption of the location of the German sub-marine. It is still in debate however whether or not a torpedo’s faulty acoustic system sent it circling around back to U-869 and causing its own demise or if the USS Howard D. Crow sank it with 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 Feb. 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 Bot-tom back to the places where they came from. The mules and horses, which 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 (Coast Guard Historian top photo, acknowledgement to Ann Kendall for phone interview and bottom photo. More of 26th Street story to come ... ) •

50 & Counting

Beach Patrol An LBI sandbox for soldiers during WWII

I am lucky. I come from a family of pack rats. This pack ratting habit has served me well when compiling three of my eight great-grandpar-

ents’ family trees. I have letters that talk about relatives; most are in English. I have photos of six of my sixteen great-great-grandparents. I have logbooks in their own handwriting. These artifacts stirred my curiosity in my ancestors and inspired me to investigate my genealogy.

Both my parents played key roles in developing this area, although we are not natives to the Island. My parents were both born in Philadelphia and I was born in Mt. Holly. This means my family’s history is all from somewhere else. Re-searching that history can be a very time-consuming, frustrating and fascinating pastime. Did I mention time-consuming and frustrating?

In talking with my Dad, I discovered that he knew a little about his father and grandfather, but next to nothing about his great-grandfather. I wrote down what he remembered and since I apparently have an abundance of spare time, I started to dig. One of the papers that magically ap-peared in a box that never existed when I was growing up was a hand-written copy of my grandfather’s application to the Sons of the American Revolution. This application outlined his ancestors back to the Revolutionary War relative. His great-grand-mother was Sarah Imlay Wilson, but her spouse’s name was not listed.

I did some more digging in the magic box and found hand-written notes listing the same line of ancestors, this time with spouses, and also some birth, marriage and death dates. Sarah Imlay was mar-ried to Richard Chamberlain Wilson.

Now I could tie in some other items from the box. There was a log book recording the payments made by Richard such as rent, taxes, tuition for his chil-dren, purchases (shoes and wallpapering services), medical expenses and mahog-any coffins for several “child deceased”. Most of the entries included the date, amount, reason for the payment, a signa-ture, and some locations.

Because memories are not always accurate it was necessary to verify the information. The family stories generally

proved to be true, but small details were inevitably suspect. Census listings can be good sources of information, especial-ly post-1850. Prior to 1850, entries were listed under the head of the household and occupants were counted by age groups and gender. This means that you need to know the information you are looking for to determine if this is the person you hope to find. I was able to find a Richard Wil-son in Bordentown, NJ in 1850. He lived with a wife Sarah, children Joseph, Ann, William, Alexander, Susan and a Peter Emley. All the names and ages matched.

Knowing that Sarah was an “Imlay” and ignoring the discrepancy in spelling, Peter is probably a relative. It gives the ages, birth places, and occupations of each individual. There were similar entries in 1860 and 1870, but some details were inconsistent – very frustrating. I also found several Richard’s in earlier years in Philadelphia, but I still didn’t know enough about his children to identify any of them as the correct listings.

I finally broke down and enrolled in Ancestry.com. Although the subscription is pricey, census lookups are much easier on their digitized full federal census. Most libraries have a free version as well as extensive local histories and old newspapers. You can make a lot of new friends when you mention family names

in a local history room.Using “Family Tree Maker” on my

computer I started typing in what I knew. I did have a few birth dates, but few deaths. The computer program popped up with an interesting warning – Sarah had been giving birth for over 20 years – highly unlikely. Was Richard married twice? This could explain a logbook entry for a coffin for S. Wilson, not listed as a “child deceased”. I reexamined my notes and discovered that Richard married Sarah after some of the chil-dren were born, so she was probably the second wife. I also used the Burlington County Library’s extensive card file indexing birth, death and marriage entries in local newspapers which they have on microfilm. After much digging, I found an obituary for a Susan Wilson, wife of Richard. This almost matched the date of the receipt log entry for a coffin for S. Wilson. The odd thing was, the coffin was purchased a month before her death.

Recently, through a Genealogy Fair I forged a friendship with the great-great-granddaughter of my great-great-grand-father’s first wife’s (Susan) brother. That doesn’t make us relatives, but it definitely gives us a lot of common information. Between us we have figured out which children died when, she has provided me with copies of some birth and death cer-

tificates, and showed me the family section in the Bordentown Cemetery. She says there should be a new relationship be-

sides cousin, brother or in-law – relative in common. I agree.

Another letter showed up in the magic box. This was a welcome to the fam-ily letter to my grandmother from my grandfather’s twin sister. This letter talked about Richard, Susan and Sarah and stated that the wives were cousins. We have yet to confirm this, but if true, my new relative in common will be a real relative. The letter also said that Richard and three of his four sons worked for the Pennsylvania Railroad. Richard was in charge of the yards in Camden, N.J., and one son was the head ticket master. I have a list of where railroad records are stored. Guess what I’m doing when I get some spare time. — Susan Wilson text & photos •

Spare time

Marine Science

Perhaps one of my favorite marine organisms is the cham-bered nautilus, Nautilus pompilus. I cannot help but be drawn to such a uniquely adapted creature. For nearly 500

million years the chambered nautilus has remained evolutionarily unchanged. The appearance of this mollusk resembles something out of a cheesy sci-fi/horror film. It is armed with almost 100 tentacles surrounding a hard beak. Like all members of the family Nautilidae, it possesses a shell which separates it from its close relatives: the octopuses, squids, and cuttlefishes. The most fascinating feature of the shell is the chambers that the animal constructs.

Using calcium carbon-ate (CaCO3), a chemical substance found in sea water, the nautilus adds chambers to its shell over time. The animal lives in the largest and most re-cently produced chamber. These chambers are used to regulate buoyancy by the introduction or expen-diture of gases from one chamber to another. The interior of the shell is cov-ered by mother of pearl, a commonly occurring du-rable substance produced by mollusks, while the exterior is primarily white with brown bands appear-ing on the top. This color pattern is no mistake and is referred to as counter shading. When seen from above by a preda-tor, the nautilus blends into the dark, deeper waters. Adversely, when seen from below the white coloration helps to camouflage the nautilus with the sunlight filtering through the water’s surface. Also, another differentiating feature is the somewhat long life of the chambered nautilus. Most cephalopods only live for a year. In comparison, Nautilus pompilus can live to be about 16 years.

Furthermore, only recently has it been determined that the nautilus is still undergoing evolution. It has long been thought that

this genus was near the end of its evolutionary advances. However, only a few million years ago, the genus Nautilus branched off and gave rise to the genus Allonautilus.

The beauty of the nautilus shell is what makes it such a favorite among shell collectors. It has a substantial size and is coiled. Add the brilliant pearly interior of the shell, and you have one worth add-ing to your collection.

The exact number of nautiluses and their distribution is hard to

measure due to their unusual lifestyle. Nautiluses migrate vertically on a daily basis. During the night they ascend to hunt for small crustaceans and fish along the slopes of coral reefs of the Indo-Pacific, but during the day they descend to depths of nearly 2000 feet to avoid becoming prey. Indonesia, along with multiple other countries, has banned the collection of nautiluses in an attempt to conserve their numbers. — Ryan Marchese •

Living FossilBut how long until we make it just a fossil?

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Sale • Service • InstallationsJoe Hutchison

It happens every summer. You pack a lunch and head to the beach for a nice day under the sun. Sand burns hot between your toes as you make a run

for it over the dunes to stake claim with a beach towel. The plan is simple, a quick dip to cool off and then back to the towel where a packed lunch awaits. The water provides a refreshing escape to what seems like a desert ter-rain, but as soon as you get in you realize this isn’t quite the dip you had in mind. Odd-looking gelatinous blobs bob up and down at the water’s surface. Are they harmless? Are they dangerous? Will they attack? These are the questions you need to know for both your safety and the animals’.

As the ocean temperature rises along the Jersey shore, life flourishes beneath the waves. All different types of organ-isms make an appearance before the chill of autumn arrives. Some of the critters to emerge, sometimes by the hundreds, are jel-lyfish. True jellyfish are animals that belong to the taxonomic phylum cnidaria and class scyphozoa. The scyphozoans, which most are familiar with, are characterized by the presence of a medusa bauplan, or body plan. In a medusa, the jelly-like body is encircled by tentacles. Tentacles are lined with cnidae, which in years past were referred to as ne-matocysts. These structures are responsible for all jellyfish stings. Although cnidae are primarily used for feeding, they also aid in locomotion, attachment, and defense.

Still, not all jellyfish are harmful, which is why it is important to know the differences in local species. In our area, the four spe-cies to be most familiar with are: the moon jelly (Aurelia), the thimble jelly (Linuche), the sea nettle (Chrysaora), and the lion’s mane (Cyanea). The moon jelly is flat and translucent in appearance and is often seen in large swarms. They have short numerous tentacles, but a very weak sting. Thimble jellyfish (Linuche) are less than an inch in diameter, thus giving them their appropriate name. These tiny jellyfish can deliver a mild

Marine Science

Jellyfish

sting as an adult. However, they are more infamous while they are in their microscopic larval stage. Be-cause they can be so numerous, frequent stings occur in rapid succession, resulting in “sea bather’s rash,” giving them the nickname “sea lice.” The sea nettle, on the other hand can pack a pretty moderate sting. Sea nettles can differ in size and color, depending on

their location. Specimens found in estuaries are often whitish and petite (up to 4 inches) compared to the pinkish, ocean-dwelling sea nettles which can grow up to 7 inches in diameter. Yet probably the most nu-merous, and certainly the most responsible for stings, is the lion’s mane jellyfish.

The lion’s mane jellyfish, also known as sea blub-ber, pink jellyfish, or red jellyfish is found all along the Atlantic coast. The location which the animal is found determines what the size and color the animal is. In our area the lion’s mane jellyfish is typically reddish in color and the bell can exceed a foot in di-ameter. Specimens in sub-Arctic waters on average have a bell 2 to 3 feet wide with tentacles reaching lengths of 75 feet. However, some individuals have been recovered with a bell of approximately 8 feet and hundreds of tentacles measuring up to 200 feet when fully extended, making it the largest jellyfish in the world. Serious injury may result from a sting. Aside from pain, a sting may also invoke tissue death or blistering at the site of the sting. As a result, raised scars or lines of pigmentation may persist for extended periods of time, up to years later.

A marine animal that some understandably may mistake for a jellyfish is the Portuguese Man-of-War (Physalia). Physalia is a member of the class Hydrozoa and is further placed into a group known as siphonophores. It is classified as a siphonophore because of the gas-filled float, or pneumatophore. Unlike true jellyfish, Physalia floats at the surface and does not “swim” through the water. This animal relies on wind and current for transportation. Also, Physalia is often referred to as a colonial organism, as it is composed of several different specialized pol-yps which work together as a single animal. These polyps, or zooids, are categorized based on their function. Gastrozooids are feeding polyps that most often possess a tentacle and a mouth. Dactylozooids

serve both as a defensive and offensive polyp. This form of polyp is mostly comprised of a long tentacle which it uses to “fish” for prey, but the same stinging cells that are utilized to paralyze a meal also function to ward off predators.

Yet another far more common group of animals confused with jellyfish are members of the phylum Ctenophora. Ctenophores are more commonly known as “comb jellies” or “gooseberries.” These or-ganisms differ from jellyfish by the presence of cilia and lack of nematocysts. Ctenophores possess eight rows of iridescent cilia, called combs, which are used for locomotion. Consequently, ctenophores aren’t generally fast moving. Only the species Euchlora rubra has shown the use of nematocysts, which it obtains from the medusa Aegina citrea. Furthermore, most species are transparent and bioluminescent.

Now that jellyfish and a few of their look-alikes have been introduced, should a sting occur it is im-portant to know how to treat the wound. If a serious sting from a true jellyfish or Physalia should occur in deep water, it is important to head towards shore, into shallower water or back onto a boat. The area around the wound should be rinsed with saltwater from the area or of the same salinity. Should fresh water or water of too great a difference in salinity be used, any cnidae present will discharge resulting in more painful stings. Should there be any tentacles attached at the site of the wound they should be re-moved gently with an object other than a hand. Vin-egar or 40 to 70 percent solution of isopropyl alcohol should be used to sterilize the wound until the pain stops. Unseasoned meat tenderizer, a paste of baking soda, or even urine can be used as a substitute to decontaminate the wound. Next, the wound should be shaved with shaving cream, a paste of baking soda, or mud and then using a knife, piece of metal or plastic, or a shell, the area should be shaved. The cleaning agent needs to be applied again for fifteen minutes. Lastly, a topical analgesic that has ben-zocaine in it or a hydrocortisone cream is required twice a day until the wound is completely healed. If there are any signs of infection the treatment should be stopped and medical attention should be sought immediately.

Jellyfish and other cnidarians are very fascinat-ing creatures. They come in a variety of shapes and colors. Like any wild animal they are to be respected in their natural habitat, especially since they are so delicate and may contain potent venom within their cnidae. Therefore, the only place that interactions between humans and jellyfish should occur is at an aquarium. This setting provides safety to both the animal and curious onlooker. So kids, leave the jel-lyfishing up to Spongebob! — Ryan Marchese •

Jellyfish

NJ State Aquarium photo

In accordance with the high tides of spring and fall, the shores of beaches along the

Atlantic coast are invaded by hun-dreds upon hundreds of armored, prehistoric-looking creatures. They’re fifty feet tall and crawl their way through shallow water in search of humans to consume! Well, they would if this was a science fiction film, but they’re really a foot to two feet long and just in search of a mate. I’m referring to the lovable North Atlantic horseshoe crab, Limulus polyphe-mus, of course.

Horseshoe crabs are probably one of the most identifiable ma-rine arthropods. Yet, despite popular belief, horseshoe crabs are not really crabs. Limulus is a member of the phylum arthropoda, which includes everything from true crabs to millipedes to insects and spiders. However, horseshoe crabs belong to the subphylum cheliciformes and class chelicerata which makes them more closely related to land spiders and scorpions than any type of crustacean. This is apparent when comparing the anatomy of a scorpion with a horseshoe crab. Based on the exterior alone, the arrangement of appendages, tagmata, and presence of a telson there is clear evidence of an evolutionary link. The telson particularly displays signs of common ancestry, because the struc-ture exists in both organisms but has been modified for different

functions. The scorpion’s telson is the last segment of the body which bears the venomous barb known as the aculeus. The telson appears as more or less a tail on the horseshoe crab; functionally, it serves as a rudder and to flip the animal back over should it be stuck on its dorsal side. If a live horseshoe crab is spotted on a beach, never pick it up by the telson. This structure is crucial to the animal’s survival and should it break off it can become trapped on its dorsal side and made an easy meal for a gull. Many aquariums have horseshoe crabs accessible within touch tanks where interactions with humans can be safely monitored (Brusca 657-666).

The body of Limulus polyphemus is light brown to gray in col-oration. Soft, leather-like appendages are concealed by the spiny exterior. These appendages help the horseshoe crab to dig through the substrate and forage for worms and organic particulate matter. Due to their shape, it can be quite comical to watch them when they attempt to walk or swim. Awkwardly, they waddle on the surface of substrates. While in the water column, most often they appear to be performing a series of somersaults as they struggle to touch down on the bottom.

Horseshoe crabs have withstood the test of time. Their design

leaves little need for evolution-ary advancement, as they have been around and unchanged for hundreds of millions of years. It

is estimated that the earliest of horseshoe crab species may be 300

million years old or more. This means horseshoe crabs were walking around

even before dinosaurs! These prehistoric critters are very

important not only to their environment, but to humans, as well. In the wild, horseshoe crab

mating is quite a spectacle. The beaches are cov-ered with hundreds of Limulus looking to replenish

their numbers. The eggs, laid in the shallow waters near beaches, play a vital role in the survival of many species of shore

birds. Dunlin, sandpipers, and other migrants all dine on the eggs of horseshoe crabs and depend on them for sustenance. There have been studies in the Delaware Bay linking a decrease in shorebird populations with overharvesting of Limulus polyphemus. Should there ever be threateningly low numbers of horseshoe crabs; the effect on the birds which rely upon them could be devastating. Luck-ily, fisheries management has paid more attention to the population of Limulus, placing limitations on the number of individuals allowed to be harvested since the steady decline of the 1990s. This will hopefully enable the population of Limulus to stay constant or, even better, increase (Sea Grant).

Furthermore, horseshoe crabs have had an interesting history

with humans. During pre-colonial days, Native Americans apparently caught individuals and ate what meat was found. The helmet-like prosoma was then used as a means to remove water from within ca-noes should any leaks spring. Also, Native Americans discovered that horseshoe crabs are an excellent fertilizer due to their nitrogen-rich bodies (Sea Grant). In present times, the blood of horseshoe crabs has been found to provide medical researches with a great indicator for recognizing impurities in experimental drugs as well as vaccines. The blue blood, which gets its color from hemocyanin rather than the hemoglobin in our blood, almost immediately clots when it comes in contact with contaminated properties (Gladnick).

The disappearance of the horseshoe crab would have significant ecological impacts. The shorebirds which depend on them during their migrations would suffer great losses, and consequently, the predators which prey on them. In addition, there would be greater amounts of sand-dwelling worms and deposits of organic matter. Medical researchers would have to look elsewhere for an effective natural indicator which saves lives on daily basis. Hence, the niche of the North Atlantic horseshoe crab is one that many other species could not survive without. — Ryan Marchese •

One Lucky Crab

Marine Science

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Legends & Lore

I first saw Francis on a perfect “Indian summer” day in Sep-tember as I took the winding path through the holly, sassa-frass, black cherry, and low shrub adjacent to the lighthouse, sketch pad and charcoals in hand. I stopped short at the glimpse of a man a few yards down the path.

A tourist, I thought, until I noticed his clothes—worn, torn, and out of place—a long-sleeved white shirt and loose black pants that had seen better days. I froze in my tracks when he turned suddenly and ran his gaze over me, a subtle smirk forming. As he lowered his handsome face in an old-fashioned bow, a heavy gold locket es-caped from his shirt. I weighed whether to move past him or escape to the safety of the main path, but I didn’t need to worry. As quickly as he stood erect, he vanished.

Yes, I know people don’t vanish. But Francis did. I don’t mean that he sped on ahead, or ducked behind a tree. He misted into the air, leaving only the sounds of gulls overhead and carefree children in the distance to ground me in sanity.

No matter how I tried over the following days, I couldn’t shake the image of the handsome phantom, his image haunting me around the clock. When my book club met a week later, I pulled aside one of the multi-generational island locals and confessed my hal-lucination.

“On the nature walk?” Natalie Cox chuckled and nodded eagerly. “Describe him.” She sipped at her drink and leaned across the couch towards me in interest.

“Oh, he was just a guy, re-ally. Nat, do you think I’m that desperate that I’m starting to hallucinate men?”

“Honey, you’re not desperate, just young and picky. If it’s who I think, you’d remember him. Let’s see,” Natalie tapped at her lips, wrinkled from too much sun, too many cigarettes, and years of smiling easily. “About your age—early twenties, long-ish auburn hair, deep brown eyes, handsome. Your basic hunk in period costume?”

“Is he a local? Not right in the head? His clothes were weird, and he wore this locket…”

“That’s Francis Patterson!” Natalie clapped her hands in delight. The elder stateswomen of LBI gathered around me in interest, each sharing a bit of the lore. The Captain of the Ontario, Francis Patterson, was returning home to New York from Lon-

don with several hundred thousand dollars worth of cargo. “A horrible storm…” “Pirates…” “He went down with the

ship…” “He lived out his years on the island…” “When? When did he wreck? You can’t mean to tell me I saw

the ghost of a drowned captain? Ladies, you all need to lay off the cocktails.”

Natalie shook a crooked finger at me. “Captain Patterson has haunted the lighthouse and the beach around it for generations, although no one has mentioned him in quite a while. You must be special.”

“You don’t honestly believe that?” Do I believe that?“You’re the one who saw him, dear, not me.” The second time I saw Francis Patterson, he spoke to me. A

month had passed, and a cold breeze promised an early end to fall. I walked the nature trail alone, at the same time wanting to see him and wanting to be free of thinking about him.

“Hoping to see egrets and herons, I take it? Or did you come in search of me?” I spun to find him leaning casually against a tree. My heart jumped in my chest and I backed a step away. I hadn’t imagined how handsome he was, nor had I imagined that he looked

My Captain by Ciar Cullen

very out of place in his ragged clothes and bare feet.“Do you make a habit of sneaking up on people?” I tried to keep

my voice steady, but he sensed my nerves, I’m sure. In fact, he teases me about it to this day.

“Ah, so Sara, you came for me after all.” He approached me and held out his hand, but I took another step back. How did he know my name?

“Who are you?” Please be normal, please tell me you’re a stock-broker having a meltdown or a surfer bum, I thought. Please be anything but a ghost.

“Join me tonight at the top,” he nodded towards the lighthouse. “I’ll tell you then.”

“It’s locked at night.” “Leave that to me.” His smile slid into my chest and wound its

way through my body. “Sure, I’ll meet a stranger alone at the top of a lighthouse. I’m

dying to make the news.”“Aye, you’ll come.” He laughed and as before, vanished. I know what you’re thinking. No one in their right mind would

give it another thought. You’d check yourself into the hospital, get

the right drug, and chalk it up to stress. But I’d spent hours as a child under the covers with a flashlight, reading my grandmother’s Nancy Drew books way past my bedtime. I loved a good mystery, and this guy was a mystery all right. And did I mention he was really handsome?

The door to the lighthouse was open as promised, which gave me chills. I tied my retriever Salty Dog to the fence and made the long climb, armed only with my flashlight and a healthy dose of fear that I might be the most stupid woman on the island, or even the planet.

Common sense told me I’d be alone. My heart told me he had to be waiting. He was. He leaned against the rail and gazed out at the starless night, the blackness broken only by a ship’s lights winking in the distance.

He didn’t turn to look at me, instead fixed on the ship. “I watch them to make sure.”

“To make sure they don’t go down? Like the Ontario?”At that, he turned and smiled. “So you did research on me, how

flattering.”“Doesn’t mean I believe. They won’t go down, not with the light-

house and modern technology.”“It was the foulest weather

imaginable. They set a donkey to wander the beach, a lantern around his neck, hoping to trick us into seeing other ships, into wrecking. I carried a fortune of cargo. All lost.”

His voice carried the ring of truth, and I found myself feel-ing sympathy for him. He felt duped, and responsible.

“The pirates are long gone from LBI. You can go, now. You’re not cursed or anything, right? You can cross over?”

“If I like. As you say, the waters are safer. And now that the lighthouse has been relit, I worry less.”

He held out his hand and this time I reached for it, felt real flesh and warmth, a quickening of my pulse at the gleam in his eye.

“Then again, I’m in no hurry.”“You’d blend in a bit better in

shorts and sandals.” “Ah, the women of every age

want to change their men.”As he pulled me in for a kiss,

his ragged clothes no longer mattered.

Ciar Cullen’s romances can be found at www.ciarcullen.com and at bookstores nationwide. •My Captain by Ciar Cullen

On a warm, summer day, the beaches of Beach Haven, Surf City and towns the length of

Long Beach Island are sandy play-grounds that play host to volleyball, sunbathing, girl and boy watching, and swimming. There is laughter, music, and quiet relaxation.

By night, the beach can become a foreboding place. The sea breeze wafts through the grassy dunes, playing mournful tricks on the ears. The relent-less, eternal surf roars in and whispers out in a ceaseless cacophony which confuses the senses. Fog and mists tantalize the eyes. A tangled clump of seaweed a hundred yards up the beach is a frightening, gruesome thing to ap-proach with cautious care in case it is not what it is.

The beach at night is home only to nocturnal creatures that feed on it, cavort on it, and die on it. To most of those people who revel in it under the sun, the beach by night is fearsome experience.

It is said on the darkest of evenings, when the moon is new or shrouded in thick clouds, the ghost of a young woman walks in eternal sorrow from one end of the island to the other. Her plaintive sighs are not unlike the whisper of the receding surf and the windswept songs of the dunes. But somehow, they are more recognizable as the pitiful pleas of a girl.

Legend has it that maiden’s heart was first to break, then her mind and spirit were shattered, and finally her lonely life was ended in utter misery. She never recovered from one incredible experience that touched off the tragic chain of events.

Her story harkens back to the tales of “wreckers” on Long Beach Island. She was an unwitting member of a band of these beach ban-dits, of which her father was the leader. Blindly obeying his wishes, she would follow his gang to the surf each time a ship met its fate on the shoals, or at the hand of the tempests.

One particular night, a storm brewed off shore. The lights or a brig were visible, bobbing violently in the distance. The lights seemed to get brighter, bigger. Is was apparent that the ship would soon succumb to the storm and become another victim of the unpre-dictable and unbridled ocean.

The wreckers assembled on the beach, ready ti pillage the hulk. Sure enough, the screams of twisting timbers and hopeless people could be discerned above the roar of the surf. The helpless ship, in its dying gasps, floated closer and closer to shore.

Soon, bits of flotsam appeared in the waves. Then, bodies. Miserable corpses, some with faces contorted in their dying an-guish, rolled onto the sand as unceremoniously as the wrack

of tangle of seaweed.The task of these people was morbidly simple.

As the dead reached the land, their bodies would be stripped of any worthwhile adornments.

The grisly thievery was proceeding well until a ghastly scream split the night. Members of the party looked toward the young woman, whose arms were flailing about as she knelt beside one of the bodies.

The girl’s father, confused by her actions, whisked her away to higher ground. He calmed her down and urged her to explain her sudden display of grief.

Through uncontrollable sobs, she tried to tell her story. The words did not come. She

grasped her father’s hand and ran with him to the cadaver that sparked her outburst. It was face down in the wet sand.

The man was instructed, through now crazed and incoherent yelps, to roll the victim on his back. The father took a shoulder and did so. As the face became visible, a shudder of pity, fear and outrage shot through the man’s being. The body was that of his daughter’s lover.

He has joined the crew of the ship being ravished by the wreck-ers, and fate brought him and his lady friend back together in one final, cruel moment.

It is believed the young woman suffered much following the incident. Her heart and mind broken, she weakened and died in short order.

Today, her ghost walks the beaches from Barnegat Light to Beach Haven, in a never-ending search for redemption. Beware, should you walk the shoreline on a moonless night. That shadowy figure just beyond your clear vision could be her spectral form. The melancholy moaning you think is the breeze could be her perpetual weeping.

Beware! — From the pages of Legends of Long Beach Island •

Legends & Lore

The Sobbing Ghost

of Long Beach Island, N.J.

Secrets under the lighthouse beam.by Frank Consoli

The cranberry bush (Vaccinium macrocarpon) is native to the northeastern portion of the US and Canada. Pilgrims were introduced to the nutritional and medicinal benefits of

its bright red berry by the Wampanoag tribe who saved them from starvation. Cranberries remain a tradition in many Thanksgiving feasts in one form or another.

With nearly 300 million pounds of berries sold per year, they are clearly more than a side dish on our holiday table. Cranberries are marketed fresh, frozen, juiced, dried, jellied and sauced. They have been processed as powders to be packed into capsules and pressed into tablets. We continue to consume them for their nutritional and medicinal effects.

Cranberries provide vitamins C and A, the minerals potassium and manganese, as well as fiber. Their major health contributions include: support of our immune system (vitamin C), prevention of visual and ocular problems (vitamin A), support of the nervous system and fluid distribution (potassium), metabolism of protein and fat, energy production and reproduction (manganese), digestive support and reduction of cholesterol (fiber).

The science of nutrition has covered a lot of ground since the discovery of vitamins and minerals in the early 1900s. Dedicated research scientists have discovered health-promoting plant nutrients numbering in the thousands. Researchers categorized them, grouped them into families, defined them by structure and function, and the list continues to grow. Many studies have been conducted on the nutritional and medicinal activities of those found in fruits and vegetables, and cranberries received special attention.

For ages, cranberry juice has been used as an effective home remedy to treat bladder infections. It was believed to work because the fruit is so acidic, but scientific investigations proved otherwise. Researchers discovered a unique type of phytonutrients responsible for the antibacterial effects. These nutrients work by lining the bladder walls, acting as a barrier or shield to prevent bacteria from attaching themselves. Researchers have labeled this activity the anti-adherence effect. These compounds are proanthocyanidins (PACs, Type A). While PACs are common, Type A has only been found in cranberries and blueberries (a close relative).

Cranberries’ unique antibacterial activity caught the attention of researchers at the National Institute of Health (NIH). They have initiated at least a dozen studies on these compounds. The anti-ad-herence properties may prove beneficial in a wide range of clinical applications.

The cranberry has even more health benefits to offer us. It is loaded with nearly twice the amount of antioxidants found in apples, red grapes, strawberries and citrus fruits. Nutrients with anti-oxidant activity are extremely beneficial in our bodies’ fight against cellular damage caused by excessive oxidation and an overabun-dance of free radicals. While our bodies do need small numbers of free radicals in biochemical tasks, their numbers are kept in check by enzyme systems. All is well when the body is in balance.

Given the condition of today’s environment, it is next to impossi-ble for our bodies to maintain a healthy level of free radicals. Exces-sive formation of free radicals can be caused by radiation exposure (including that from the sun), pollution (auto, chemical, tobacco,

Gifts of health from

The Cranberry

Autumn

Photo by Joe

etc.), a high-fat diet and many other contributing factors. Antioxidants neutralize free radicals by bonding with them. In the absence of an-tioxidants, the chemically unstable free radicals easily join with other compounds causing split second chemical reactions that damage cells, often irreversibly. Scientists think this kind of damage may be the beginning of many chronic illnesses and degenerative diseases.

Cranberries contain many nutrients with long lists of health enhanc-ing properties. Contributions from just three (quercetin, myricetin and catechins) include the ability to:

• interrupt the formation of blood supplies that feed cancerous tumors (known as angiogenesis)

• inhibit the growth of the bacteria (Heliobacter pylori) responsible for the development of peptic ulcers

• slow the growth of the herpes virus (Epstein-Barr) that causes mononucleosis

• reduce sorbitol levels in diabetics, which may be the cause of kidney and nerve damage

• slow the growth and spread of cancer cells (metastases) to other parts of the body

• reduce the formation of cancer cells • reduce inflammation in blood vessels, a known risk of heart at-

tacks• aid in reducing LDL cholesterol• slow the process of arterial narrowing which is associated with

heart disease and strokes A single cranberry, barely an inch around, contains all these nutri-

tional properties and then some. As to how we go about obtaining the most from them, there are many more questions than definitive answers. For now, we’d do well to consider the following suggestions:

In March 2007, the Department of Health and Human Services’ Center for Disease Control (CDC) collaborated with the Produce for Better Health Founda-tion and came up with guidelines and recommendations we can apply right now to protect our health. They suggest we eat 7-13 servings of fruits and vegetables a day. That’s more than most dietary guidelines, and a lot more than most of us eat. In the experts’ opinion, the more phytonutrients, antioxidants, vitamins, minerals and fiber we have on board, the better equipped we will be in the fight against chronic illnesses and the aging process.

Many sources recommend we eat a variety of brightly colored fruits and vegetables. Highly pigmented produce contains the highest concentrations of phytonutrients. In order to obtain maximum benefits, they recommend we eat many different combinations of fruits and veg-etables resulting in synergistic effects and the widest range in benefits. Balance, moderation and variety appear to be the key. Be creative while aiming for 7-13 servings. Juice drinks (100%, no sugars added) can count as a serving and cranberry juice is not so tart when blended with other juices. Make smoothies with several servings of fruit. Focus on adding foods that are good for you, rather than eliminating foods that contribute little to your well being.

Can consumption of more fruits and vegetables be the 21st century’s weapon of choice in the fight against chronic illnesses, debilitating conditions and the aging process?

Our produce sections are full of exotic fruits with names we can’t pronounce, come from places we’ll never see, and have no idea how to prepare. They’re the new (to us) offerings in health enhancement. Right next to them you’ll see those familiar, unassuming bags of cran-berries. Some of you have never picked one up, while some of you only use them in holiday decorations or string them for garland. Then there are the cranberry fanatics who can’t wait ‘til they are in season. We’ll buy more than enough for all the holiday recipes and still more to freeze for later. Personal preferences aside, don’t you feel a little smug knowing that our native cranberry doesn’t just hold its own in comparative nutritional benefits (including exotics), but is ranked one of the best? — Susan Faraday •

Gifts of health from

The Cranberry

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Movie Reviews Next Page

FRIDAY, JUNE 4TH

LBI Foundation of the Arts and Sciences 6:30 PM –OPENING FILM8:45 PM – New Low 11:30 PM – Caesar’s & Otto’s Summer Camp Massacre (w/A House in Los Osos)

Beach Haven School6:45 PM – My Stepdad’s a Freakin’ Vampire (w/Spoiler)9:00 PM – Ice Grill, USA (w/Feud)

Oskar Huber Furniture7:30 PM – SURFING: Sea of Darkness (w/All Points South) 9:30 PM – Lives of the Artists (w/Delusion) Events:9:00 PM – Official Festival Party (Surf City Hotel)

SATURDAY, JUNE 5TH:

LBI Foundation of the Arts and Sciences12:30 PM – Gus: an American Icon (w/Voor Een Dubbeltje) 2:30 PM – Earthwork 5:00 PM – Holy Water 7:30 PM – Jimmy Tupper vs the Goatman of Bowie9:45 PM – Cigarette Girl (w/Black Rose) Beach Haven School 12:00 Noon – Danny Greene (w/Mary Shan-ley & Alter)2:00 PM – SPECIAL EVENT: Offsides: The Rise & Fall of the Irishmen 4:30 PM – Broken Dreams (w/Short Winter)6:45 PM – TBA8:45 PM – Card Subject to Change (w/A Short Film)

Oskar Huber Furniture11:00 AM – Jezis Je Normalni (w/Grupni Portret S Ledja)1:00 PM – Narrative Shorts Block (Asbury Park/Poetry Man/Lighthouse/Aware/ The Surfer) 3:30 PM – Documentary Shorts Block (Water Light & Chaos/Two Hours in the Dark/Bowl-ing Blind)6:00 PM – Documentary Double Feature: When the Night Comes/Sold: Fighting the New Global Slave Trade8:15 PM — SURFING: Sea of Darkness10:30 PM — SURFING: A Pleasant Surprise Events: 9:30 AM – Breakfast with Filmmakers (Nardi’s)1:00 PM -- Children’s Film Block A ,Ocean County Library, Surf City)2:00 PM — Discussion of the arrest of Iranian director Jafar Panahi3:00 PM — Children’s Film Block B (Ocean County Library - Surf City)6:30 PM — WRESTLING EVENT — See website for details!10:00 PM — Official Festival Party (Buckalew’s)

SUNDAY, JUNE 6TH:

LBI Foundation of the Arts and Sciences11:00 AM — Upstream (w/Destination Day)1:00 PM — A Long Haul (w/Crab Feast or Famine) (FREE)3:00 — TBA Beach Haven School 12:30 PM — TBA3:00 — CLOSING FILM

Oskar Huber Furniture12:00 PM — High School Student Films (FREE)2:00 PM — TBA Events:9:30 AM — Breakfast with Filmmakers (Nardi’s)2:30 PM — A discussion on the state of fishing (following 1pm screening)5:00 PM — Official Festival Party (The Sea Shell)

Venue Locations

LBI Foundation of the Arts and Sciences 120 Long Beach Blvd., Loveladies

609-494-1241

Oskar Huber Furniture101 W. 8th Street, Ship Bottom

609-494-8127

Beach Haven School700 S Beach Ave, Beach Haven

609-492-7411

LBI Branch Ocean County Library217 S. Central Ave, .Surf City

609-494-2480

Movie times

subject to change.

Check lighthousefilmfestival.org

for final schedule

Cigarette Girl (USA) In the near future, laws against smoking have increased to the point where you must live in a certain part of town called the Smoking Section if

want to smoke cigarettes. Once you have passed the line of demarca-tion, you just know you’ve crossed the tracks because things get a little grimier, a little more industrial. The sky is a little blacker. The mood is heavier.

Someone might get hurt. Cigarettes now cost $63.49 a pack, yet the money derived from this tax obvi-ously isn’t going toward this dysto-pian corner of the city. If you travel there to smoke or to buy (because it is also illegal to buy on the ‘clean’ side of town) there are several op-tions, but the main place is the Vice Club. There you will find old fashion Cigarette Girls, like our heroine with no name. The Vice Club was actu-ally a cigarette factory built in 1935 and designed by the very best deco influenced architects. The original owners even installed a giant 50 foot long Iron cigarette on top of the building that tipped into an gigantic ashtray. One hundred years later, that cigarette is cancer coated with

rust, but still tilts back and forth - if the wind is strong enough, making a horrible squeak on its axis that is heard throughout the city. Cigarette Girl becomes an angel of death when she stops smoking and starts killing on the third day to alleviate her acute psychological withdrawal manifested primarily by the ghost of a cowboy who is always on her back to keep smoking. Cigarette Girl would rather kill than smoke. Earthwork (USA)Earthwork is the story of real-life crop artist Stan Herd. In 1994, Stan travelled from Kansas to New York City to create a massive environ-mental artwork on land owned by Donald Trump. The multi-acre piece was made from soil, rock, plants and vegetation near an underground rail-way tunnel. Stan recruited a number of homeless individuals living in the tunnel as his crew. Over the months it took to complete the earthwork, Stan dealt with the difficulties of bringing his unique, rural art form to an urban canvas and the many costs exacted upon his life. In an effort to show his unique perspective to a larger audi-ence, Stan unexpectedly encountered the true meaning of his art and it’s ultimate, lasting rewards. Gus: An American Icon (USA) Gus: an American Icon is a honest look at the life and times of Gus Gior-dano in a biographical / testimonial way, mixing outstanding still photog-raphy from his life, several extracts of his choreography, a full perfor-

mance of Wings (one of Gus Giorda-no’s most powerful choreography’s). The documentary is enriched with the words of 50 of Gus’s closest friends, family, artists and collaborators, who were interviewed to share their own memories of the moments they shared with this amazing artist, which strong-ly influenced their lives and careers. Tony Mockus, Collen Zenk Pinter, Margo Sappington, Jimmy Locust, Randy Duncan and Homer Bryant are among the dance personalities inter-viewed who will give us an inside look at the quality and talent of the man who is considered by many to be the father of American jazz dance. •

Movie reviews

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echoes of lbi spring 2010

Documents

echoes of lbi

long beach boulevard

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lbi history

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long trip

green lbi

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