NEW YORK ( TheStreet) -- Just up Route 35 from what the rest of America knows as Gym, Tan, Laundry country is a little collection of modest bungalows known as Ocean Beach. For my family and hundreds of others in New Jersey, it was the summer home we could afford.
The sand-and-pebble roads are marked with names like Sandpiper and Cormorant. My family rented a teal green two-bedroom on Swordfish for many years, but would pick different bungalows year after year depending on what was available in late August or Labor Day weekend. When asked if she and my stepfather would make the trip down this year in the wake of Hurricane Sandy, my mom replied that it didn't seem likely. Not only are bungalow owners still rebuilding their Shore properties, which limits supply, but my mom implied that it might be too sad to see a place she's loved for decades in such rough shape.
For her sake and the sake of anyone who owns a bungalow or business on Ocean Beach's little barrier island known as Barnegat, I'm hoping she reconsiders.
My family has been renting bungalows in Ocean Beach since just after World War II. My great uncle was reportedly turned away from owning a bungalow there due to prejudices about the number of vowels in his last name -- a story few people with firsthand knowledge of that incident are around to recall -- but my uncle and Ocean Beach set things right when he purchased a bungalow by a pool-sized marina just off the bay about 20 years ago. That cultural hiccup aside, the thing that appealed most to my family about summers at the shore was how little they changed from year to year.
People aged, children were born, pinball gave way to Pac-Man, the pop-culture prizes on the boardwalk wheels changed, but the beach, bay, bungalows and even boardwalk businesses like Frank's Amusements in Point Pleasant or Lucky Leo's in Seaside Heights tend to stay the same. It wasn't something I really took notice of until I watched the damage reports come in from my new home in Portland, Ore. Brian Donohue, a former colleague of mine from our days at The Jersey Journal in Jersey City, walked around Barnegat Island in January and compiled what he saw into a video entitled Splinters and Sand and saw the Jet Star sitting in the water just off its former perch on Casino Pier. He sifted through waterlogged Frogger and Super Sprint video game cabinets at Barnacle Bill's in Ortley Beach. He also saw the wreckage of the bungalow where he and his family spent his childhood summers. As my mom says, it's too sad. It's also a reminder that it can get a whole lot worse. Donohue's travels also took him up to Long Branch, N.J., which was just as much a honky-tonk little shore amusement town as Point Pleasant, Seaside or Belmar when I was younger, but was changed forever on June 8, 1987, when a fire completely its amusement pier, boardwalk, haunted mansion and Kid's World Amusement Park. In devastated Long Branch, as in Shore communities after Superstorm Sandy, there were vows to rebuild. Those promises were fulfilled, but the games, rides, taffy stands and little ramshackle businesses were replaced by condos, offices, parking garages and the Pier Village complex that is, as one Yelper so delicately put it, "less of a Jersey Shorish place." It's lovely, but it's every shoregoer's worst nightmare: A prohibitively expensive mall that used eminent domain to trade families of working class vacationers for transient residents who want a beach in the front yard and a Rocky Mountain Chocolate Company downstairs.
The Jersey Shore usually changes like its beaches: Taking and replacing with the ebb and flow of the tide. A variety store gets torn down to expand Wawa convenience store parking. A place that rents wooden boats on the bay closes shop one summer and gets replaced by a marina that repaints those boats and rents them for $10 extra the next. Sometimes, even a Stewarts or Windmill Drive-In shuts down and a bank takes its place.