Beach days are the best days: Readers share memories of Jersey Shore summers

Whether you live by the beach or spend your vacations "down the Shore," you are sure to have memories of summer days gone by.

Maybe you piled into the family station wagon for a stay at a hotel by the beach, happy to escape city life for a few days. Or maybe the beach was a short drive from home and you spent summer nights strolling the boardwalk.

Reminiscing about those days can take you back in time; read on for a trip down memory lane.

A dip in the boardwalk pool

I have so many stories, finding just one to tell was difficult.

I grew up in Neptune, close enough to the ocean that I could walk there. I loved the Natatorium (swimming pool) on the Asbury Park boardwalk. I would go there when I was in my teens and swim, flirt with the teen boys there, and even went out with the lifeguard a couple times.

What is most interesting part of my Natatorium story is that my parents met there. Dad was in the Army and stationed nearby.  Mom was born and raised in Asbury Park.  The year they met was 1929!

Linda Harvey Tyger, Little Egg Harbor

Beaches, food, music and so much fun: Here's your guide to summer at the Jersey Shore

Memories of The Boss

(I spent) many fun summers as a kid with Tillie at Palace Amusements in Asbury Park, then would always head down for my birthday weekend at the end of May.

One time, in 1984, we went to Club Xanadu on Kingsley Street (formerly the Student Prince Club where Bruce Springsteen met Clarence Clemons, now Porta) to catch a local band. The album "Born in the U.S.A." was about to be released. The single "Dancing in the Dark" was all over the radio.

After a break, the band started playing the song's intro over and over. Why? Well, Bruce was in the audience with his pals, and eventually, with some coaxing, jumped on the stage and sang it with them — his first live performance of that song. Crowd went nuts. Unforgettable.

Robert Pignatello, Asbury Park

'My Hometown': Tour the Jersey Shore spots that Bruce Springsteen made famous

At the family bungalow

When I was 5 years old back in 1960, my grandparents purchased a new bungalow on 11th Lane in South Seaside Park — good old Midway Beach.

Sadly, my grandmother passed away a few years later and was only able to enjoy a few short summers there. My grandfather, “Gramps,” kept the house and would go down in May, stay the summer and close the house for the winter in October.

My dad would always take his vacation the same time every year: the last week in July and the first week in August. The family would pack the car up — I had a brother and sister — and we would head "down the Shore.” My mom had five siblings, so the bungalow would always be packed with aunts, uncles and cousins.

We would spend the days on the beach, shower in the outside shower with no roof (loved that, wish I had one now) eat dinner and either be back up on the beach to fly kites, play miniature golf at Rossi’s or take a ride to the Seaside Heights boardwalk. We would go on the rides at Funtown Pier (Casino Pier when we got older), play the wheel games — a nickel for one number and a quarter for five numbers — and Mom would play Skilo.

We’d get back to the bungalow around 10 and the parents would take a walk up to Art’s Sand Bar to have a nightcap. We did this every year until the early '70s.

In 1977, I married my high school sweetheart. We would spend our one-week vacation at the bungalow with Gramps. Many years, it was just the three of us for the week. He used to give us a $20 bill and tell us to go to dinner or use it up on the boardwalk.

Gramps passed away in the mid '80s, and the family sold the bungalow. It was a sad time in our lives.

We raised a family of three girls who love the Jersey Shore, and we now spend many summer days at Island Beach State Park with them and their spouses. I always take a ride down 11th Lane on my way home from Island Beach to relive the memories. I can picture my grandparents standing on the front porch waving goodbye to us as we drove away on those August nights 60 years ago, knowing we would have to wait another year before we packed up the car and headed “down the Shore” for another fun summer.

Even though the landscape has changed over the years, nothing will ever beat the good old Jersey Shore.

Ed Cullen Jr., Jackson

Boardwalk trips with Grandma

I have so many favorite stories about the Jersey Shore. Since each town that makes up the Jersey Shore has its own unique charm, it's hard to choose a favorite.

But an endearing memory was the last time I went to Wildwood with my entire family. My grandmother had lost a leg to diabetes, but she still had a great lust for life. She loved the boardwalks and the nightlife. Her favorite rides were The Scrambler and The Himalayan.

The workers on the piers at Wildwood were so kind to her; they let her ride several times in a row. It was our last summer with her. She passed away the following January (1995), and that was certainly a summer to remember, when our grandma was still with us.

Maryanne Christiano-Mistretta of Kenilworth, author of the new book "So, You Think You Know The Jersey Shore?"

'A window into the past': Postcards reveal a Jersey Shore summer of days gone by

Simple beach days make the best memories

I recall that rare day at the beach (those who grow up here would never call it “the shore”). My father was an entrepreneur who worked six days a week. The one long-anticipated day would involve the packing of a simple but delicious picnic lunch. Mother would need to prepare the diaper bag, as there was always a baby. We would eagerly count the hours until Dad finished work, showered and loaded the nine-passenger station wagon.

We endured the seemingly endless drive from Keyport to Keansburg. Dad would install the umbrella, we would spread the blankets and then race to the water. Lunch, snacks and probably sunburn completed the day.

The joyful day spent, with our dad and mom on the beach, probably provided some of our most memorable childhood days

Angela Brunelli, Eatontown

60 years and counting

My childhood and early adulthood were spent in Brooklyn. Who knew that I would live near the Jersey Shore for the next six decades of my life, spending many days at the beach savoring the sunshine, seashells and seafood?

Along with that, we dealt with black flies, sunburn, and the plague and blessings of sand. Sand is your friend by providing hours of entertainment for a toddler. Sand is your enemy when trapped in your bathing suit or eyes.

Seaweed, the lettuce of the ocean, was an annoyance at times. Who knew it would someday be considered a delicacy?

In the days before the Wonder Wheeler, the logistics of getting six kids from the car to the water was a Herculean task. The paraphernalia we moved was as complex as any military maneuver. My husband, Bill, said he learned to respect the work of pack mules.

Yet who could forget the sights and smells of summer? The ocean was often fickle, like a young girl picking an outfit to wear on her first date. The ebb and flow of the tides were like the ups and downs of life. The unique smells of the boardwalk filled the air. Cotton candy mingled with sausage and peppers, and the odor of potatoes sizzled away in all that grease; how tantalizing to the taste buds.

I recall the sight of laughing or crying children as well as the terror on their faces as they experienced a new adventure ride. We shared music blaring from a boombox on the blanket; now bathers are plugged into the isolation of their individual electronic devices.

The times have changed; for me, it has just become easier to just stay at home or spend a little time at the pool. Occasionally I will enjoy the day at the beach with grandchildren, and through them I vicariously relive the wonders of my youth.

“One must maintain a little bit of summer, even in the middle of winter.” — Henry David Thoreau

Lorraine Palmé, Jackson

More: Iconic spots to check out this summer at the Jersey Shore, from Keansburg to Surf City

Remembering the 'glory days'

Spending the day at the Monte Carlo Pool in Asbury Park was a mini vacation.

Walking over to the snack stand to buy a hot dog afforded us the opportunity to peek into the private cabanas. Being able to swim the length of the pool was cause for bragging rights.

(I remember) going to the soda-mat on the boardwalk and trying to decide from what seemed to be 100 flavors to choose from; I always got lemon lime. You put your coin in a slot and the soda was served in paper cups, which we used to wash down Sammy’s french fries with malt vinegar, which was next door.

Visiting Mr. Peanut in Convention Hall to get a warm bag of his goodies.

Wonderful days spent at the Seventh Avenue pool.

Having pizza at Freddie’s on Asbury Avenue and pulled pork BBQ sandwiches at Horner’s Drive In, also on Asbury Avenue.

Those were truly the “glory days.”

Sandra Fornino, Neptune

Can't wait for summer

Our first visit to “the Jersey Shore“ was when my wife and I were 72 years old.

Being born in Brooklyn, then moving to Queens and eventually settling on Long Island, we have lived our whole lives in New York. In 2022, we moved from Long Island to Brick.

We had always heard about the Jersey Shore this and the Jersey Shore that, and the parkway traffic ... blah, blah, blah. But now I get it.

The Jersey Shore is actually unique. You immediately feel like you are on vacation, even if you just visit for the day. (After all, we don’t have a “New York Shore.“)

We have lived in Jersey a little over a year now and we can’t wait for the summer so we can visit all the different places that are the “Jersey Shore."

Ken and Rosemary Rott, Brick

More: Here's where to satisfy your sweet tooth this summer at the Jersey Shore

Always fun to be had

My Shore stories start during 1944. My dad was on leave from the U.S. Army Air Corps; he and his stepdad built a bungalow in South Seaside Park on 3rd Lane. Our place was one of the very few in that area; our little building was one of maybe 20 others from 3rd Lane to 7th Lane.

We had two bedrooms, an eat-in kitchen, a large front room which could sleep at least eight adults, and a bathroom. The "beds" were like couches in the daytime, and at night they had another bed under them that pulled out and raised up to become larger than a double bed. There was an outside shower, also.

There was always fun stuff to do. The beach, sand and ocean — the best. We searched for shells and were most happy to find the most perfect one or prettiest or largest. I made a design around the back porch with the large ones.

Other times we went crabbing in Barnegat Bay. My parents towed a row boat with me inside. I don’t remember, but they must have netted (the crabs). I never saw traps.  When we got home, those crabs got cooked. I never ate them then, actually couldn’t imagine anything that gross-looking could taste good. Silly me!

Saturday was always boardwalk night. We went to one game, it was "Catch a Fish" or something like that. You got a fishing pole with a magnet and there was a "stream" to fish. Everyone won a prize — great for no tears. Then we went to the merry-go-round hoping to get a brass ring. Last but not least, an ice cream cone — chocolate of course.

Rainy days were the worst. We spent a full week when it rained every day. We went to the B&B store for crayons and coloring books. I colored every page. Very boring time.

More: Spots and tips for clamming, crabbing and mussel harvesting in New Jersey

There wasn’t TV, either. It wasn’t even in homes until 1947. Just imagine a 4- and 2-year-old child cooped up for a momentous week in a rather small dwelling. Not fun.

All of our shore time came to an end about 1948 when Grandma had to sell her bungalow. At that time, she had to rent it nearly every week to pay the rent on the land. She loved her time "down the Shore," and all of us have many happy memories of those days.

Carolee Kuhlthau Logan, Toms River

Family road trip

Some of my fondest memories go back to the late '50s and early '60s. My dad was in the Navy, and as a military family we went to a beach — I think in Long Branch, where it was free for us. What a treat!

We'd travel from Cranford for the day trip. Mom would make her famous Italian hot dog sandwiches, which were delicious even with some sand added. I remember my brother crying because the sand was hot and he had to be carried.

At the end of the day, we'd change in the dressing room and go off to the boardwalk in Keansburg for rides. I recall the rides being individual ones that you put a coin in to take a minute ride. It was nothing like the boardwalks of today but still a cherished memory.

Only my brother and I are here to recall those days; everyone who shared the beach days with us are gone. Now I love a beach day with a good book, and since I live at the Shore, I don't have the hour commute!

Carolyn Walker, Brick

A summer never forgotten

It was the summer of 1985. We were a middle-class family living in Staten Island and parents to three daughters who dreamed of taking a Wildwood vacation.

Finances were tight, but we’d finally saved enough to stay four days at the Shore.

Beach every day; boardwalk at night. The girls loved the rides, but all our 4-year-old wanted was to win a 12-inch ball with a picture of a princess on it. She didn’t want any help spraying water into the clown’s mouth until the balloon burst; she had to do it herself. The night before we were to leave, she won.

On our last day, we made an early morning visit to the beach before checkout. The waves were higher than prior days, and the girls were cautioned not to play with the ball by the water’s edge.

Of course, one kicked the ball into the ocean. I grabbed all three girls, the youngest hysterically crying, before they attempted to go in after the ball. My husband, who was not a swimmer, ran past us into the water. He waded in waist high and grabbed the ball.

Suddenly a rogue wave hit him; he disappeared from sight! He instantly surfaced, but as the water receded, we saw that the wave had taken his bathing suit down to his knees. Thankfully, he was facing the sea and not the shore.

Somehow, he managed to tuck the ball between his chin and chest then pull up his bathing suit. He returned to shore. None of us said a word about what happened to his bathing suit, but none of us have forgotten the summer of 1985!

Jackie Marenda, Toms River

A week at the beach

I grew up in Madison (Morris County). I have now lived in Brick for almost 20 years.

When I was still young, we used to stay regularly at the old Ocean View Hotel, right on Route 35 South in Bay Head. The hotel was close to our favorites: Mueller's Bakery, the original OB Diner, and the earlier Point Pleasant Beach amusement park. The old Bluffs bar, hidden away like a classic speakeasy, was a favorite spot of my father.

A slightly longer drive took us to the Chadwick Beach miniature golf course. It amuses my children today (ages 23 and 20), that in recent years, we are still playing the same mini-golf courses, carefully maintained over the decades. I heard it was still owned by the same family.

Word somehow got out to the front desk staff of the Ocean View Hotel, including the bellhop, that I — like most 5 or 6-year-old boys) wanted a dog. We stayed at the hotel for a one-week period each summer, for a few years. On one or more trips there, the bellhop barked like a dog.

"Do you have a dog at the hotel," I asked. The staff always laughed.

I never did get to meet that dog.

Mark Haviland, Brick

A poem for Dad

Lucky for us, we grew up at the Shore, where weekends were filled with boardwalks and more!

We waited all week to beg Mom and Dad, for another Saturday night and promises not to be bad.

Dad always gave us money to spend on the stands, hoping to win candy and other goodies in hand.

Quarters were placed on "Leo," "Al" or "Pop," until we would win, begging not to stop!

Our first rides were the fish, fire engines and Whip, and of course the train ride, where the whole family could fit.

Couldn't leave without ice cream, crabs or cotton candy,

On beach days of course, all would become Sandy.

Easter at the boardwalk was tradition for us, all dressed from church and didn't make a fuss.

Car raffle was played and Easter eggs found, buried in sand under the ground.

And who can forget crabbing every fall, waking up early from the time we were small.

Donuts first and then get a good spot, to throw our lines and then crabs in the pot.

Winters were filled with arcade thoughts as well, bundled up for the cold, which we thought was swell.

Skee-Ball, and tickets saved, for a small prize that we all craved!

My dad was the best at the pinball game, where we watched in awe so we could all do the same.

As a teen, I worked at Jenks as my first summer job.

Even those memories are filled with beach smells and corn on the cob.

I will never forget growing up at the Shore, and memories made forever more.

And thanks to my dad for always caving in, to give his kids a weekend of wins.

Victoria Mantyla of Brick, dedicated to her father, Jim Carr, of Manchester

More: Music halls, museums and galleries to check out this summer at the Jersey Shore

Always a Jersey Girl

Being a teenager (1961-67), specifically in Ocean Grove, was a unique time to grow up.

On Saturday nights, all motor vehicles had to be off the streets by midnight and the town became the most peaceful place on the Shore. If a plane flew over the beaches on Sunday, there was 0.7 miles of emptiness between Bradley and Asbury: No sunbathing or swimming was allowed on Sunday on Ocean Grove beach.

For fun and excitement, I could walk into the carnival atmosphere of Asbury or my family could join other families swimming in Bradley. On Sunday nights at midnight, cars and trucks would line up at the gates/chains to re-enter “God’s square mile of health and happiness,” and I was happy.

I was finally old enough to go by myself to join my friends at the beach, knowing that neighbors, friends and lifeguards would keep us safe between the ropes erected in the ocean. I had summer part-time jobs (chambermaid, waitress, shirt girl) and could earn my own spending money — how grown up!

With my friends, I would go to the great concerts at the Asbury Park Convention Hall. The soundtracks of those summers were the Four Tops, The Beach Boys, and The Four Seasons. We slurped ice cream at Nagles and Days. We walked and ordered pizza at Mom’s and Vic’s. We danced at the Thompson Center above the post office and in neighboring towns, or in the empty streets on Sunday in Ocean Grove.

I was blessed with a wide assortment of friends. Ocean Grove childhood pals, newer friends from Shark River Hills, Summerfield, and Ridge Avenue — and relationships forged while working at the beachfront.

Being able to walk to most activities and entertainment venues gave me a special freedom. Greeting neighbors on Ocean Grove front porches provided a sense of safety and community. We had the freedom to roam, play, and enjoy the gifts of the Shore without a lot of worry or fear. We could choose between the peacefulness of Ocean Grove and the excitement of the Ferris wheel, bumper cars, and the Tunnel of Love in Asbury Park.

As Labor Day approached, I had regrets that I hadn’t taken advantage of all that the Jersey Shore offered then (and now), but I looked forward to future adventures at Neptune High School, the University of Delaware, and during future Jersey Shore summers. I remain a Jersey Girl.

Gale Catley Lynch, Ocean Grove

Ice blocks, comic books and summer memories

In the 1950s and 60s, we rented a house on G Street in Seaside Park. The house was four doors from the beach, and we rented it for August.

On the first day of every vacation, the first stop we made after coming off the bridge was the Ice House in Seaside Heights, where we picked up two cases of different flavored canned sodas.

After unloading the car at the house, my oldest brother gave me and my little brother a dollar to buy comic books. It was an easy walk to the convenience store on the corner of I Street and Central Avenue (Tom and Jerry's). That one dollar got us 10 comic books, literary gems such as Lulu, Richie Rich, Casper the Friendly Ghost, Archie and Jughead, and my personal favorite, Batman.

We rushed back to the house with our carefully selected comic books and presented them to our two older brothers.

We didn't have a TV in the house, so the comic books provided entertainment when we weren't on the beach, or at the 5th Avenue Pier, fishing and crabbing, or at Funtown USA.

We never got ice from the Ice House. Instead, my father bought a block of ice from the ice machine that was outside the "corner store." A block of ice cost 35 cents. My father would place the ice on the tailgate of our 1950 Mercury Woodie Station Wagon, and my little brother and I sat on the tailgate with the block of ice between us, preventing the ice from sliding off.  We were successful in guarding the ice every time we went to that ice machine.

Adjacent to the corner store was Frank's Bait Shop, and behind the bait shop were parked several beach buggies — paintless, sun-burned old cars with great big tires. I learned in time that they were Model A Fords, and the great big tires were known as balloon tires. I loved cars from an early age, and I made sure I stopped at the bait shop every few days.

Every week or so, we went to that ice machine. My father placed the block of ice into the ice chest where the soda was kept and proceeded to chop away at the ice with his trusty ice pick. Year after year, my brother and I guarded that ice on the tailgate until one year, the police stopped my father and told him it was now illegal for anyone to sit on the tailgate while the car was moving. Rats!

But at least I have the fond memory of Tom and Jerry's, Frank's Bait Shop, and the ice machine, and I also have that ice pick that broke many a block of ice into pieces.

John Mahoney, Toms River

A near miss

I was born in Neptune (Fitkin Memorial Hospital) and grew up in Manasquan. In 1963, at age 13, I became an avid surfer and spent each summer riding my bike the mile from my home to the beach with my surfboard towed behind me on a cart.

Since there was no designated surfing beach at that time in Manasquan, my friends and I had to sneak through a hole in the fence at the north beach onto the restricted beach of the Sea Girt army camp. One day, we didn't notice the red flags up to warn boaters in the area to stay away because target practice was in progress on the base.

We quickly took it seriously when we saw bullets hitting the water about 100 feet away from us! Needless to say, we got out of there fast, only to return the next day when there were no red flags. Great memories!

Tim Wuchter, Neptune

More: Seaside Heights carousel slated to return this summer

A great time at the Jersey Shore

I am fortunate to have many fond memories of the Jersey Shore, going "down the Shore" as it was called. My memories are not as a summer tourist but rather as a year-round resident of Bradley Beach.

My family moved to Brinley Avenue, one block from the ocean, when I was 6 years old. We had visited my grandparents there often and knew that we would love living at the Shore. We were right. It was a wonderful life.

Appetites increased, breathing was easier and people were more relaxed. The ebb and flow of the Atlantic Ocean, together with its smells and sounds, always had and continue to have a calming effect on me.

As was common in summer communities along the Shore, my parents rented out rooms in our home. We met many kids from other towns, and friendships bloomed.

Dressed in a white uniform and shoes, I began waitressing at the famous Michael's Restaurant on the boardwalk in Asbury Park. I would walk the boards every day from Bradley Beach through Ocean Grove to Asbury Park for work. We earned 50 cents an hour plus tips, and loved when the soldiers stationed at Fort Monmouth ordered a 25-cent drink and left a dollar bill on the table.

Between Brinley and LaReine avenues, where condos now stand, there were two famous hot dog joints. One was Syd's, the other Mike & Lou's. Competition was fierce between them. While Syd boiled his hot dogs, Mike & Lou's grilled theirs. Which were tastier? You decide. Cream soda, sarsaparilla or root beer? You decide.

Romances began. No doubt, some culminated in a stroll "Under the Boardwalk," as the song goes. We had great innocent fun and wonderful times. The music blasted, we danced on the sidewalk, hugged a bit, laughed a lot. No drugs, no alcohol, no texting — just talking and hanging out with friends with the balmy summer breezes and the Atlantic Ocean as a backdrop. What freedom, what joy.

There were large sandy beaches, penny arcades, miniature golf courses, Jane Logan's for ice cream, Vic's for pizza and Schwartz 's for medicines. The famous Palace theater was a regular in the evenings and on rainy days (memories of "The Day the Earth Stood Still" and "The Creature From the Black Lagoon" still give me a shiver). Equally famous was Mayfair Theatre on Cookman Avenue in Asbury Park. The ceilings were so beautiful — we felt as if we were floating in space.

On the boardwalk in Asbury Park, we brushed by Mr. Peanut advertising Planters Peanuts or bought chocolate fudge or saltwater taffy. There were many rides, both on the boardwalk and the lake. The famous carousel that attracted thousands of people was used in several movies. The Paramount Theatre hosted many performers and roller derby.

If we ventured down to Seaside, we would enjoy the ubiquitous sausage and peppers, and the quintessential Taylor pork roll or Sammy's french fries. Custard and ice cream also abounded.

But it was not necessary to leave one's wrap-around porch to eat well. There was always a plethora of small trucks passing by selling fresh fruits and vegetables, and the milk man had eggs, creams and cheeses as well. Let's not forget the Dugan bread man with his strawberry, vanilla and chocolate cupcakes, and of-course there was the Good Humor man, whose bell-ringing drove us crazy.

After the weekends, many people with suitcases in hand, again boarded the train to return home. I would lament and ask my Mom, "How come I can't pack a suitcase and go somewhere?"

Mom always smiled and replied, "Honey, you already are where everyone wants to be: down the Jersey Shore."

Barbara Naftalis Butensky, Marlboro

Surf, sand and shells

Summer has always been my favorite season. The beach has always been my favorite summertime place.

Long Branch was an ideal location growing up because of its proximity to the beach. Our family’s home was only a few minutes drive from the oceanfront. We went to the Shore every day if the weather permitted. I was 6 years old when this wonderful routine began.

My sister, brother and I had to wait until our mother completed her daily household chores, and I did so impatiently. I’d sit on the back stoop, tapping my foot, until Mom gave the signal that we were ready to depart.

Upon arrival, I jumped into the foaming surf, no matter how cold the water temperature.

My bathing cap served no earthly purpose, as my hair would be wringing wet. Sometimes seaweed was tangled into my dripping strands. The seat of my bathing suit was always loaded down with wet sand as I slid into the waves.

After about 40 minutes, Mom would have to pull me out of the water for “rest time.”

A green jug filled to the brim with lemonade accompanied us so that we would stay “hydrated.”  We sat under the umbrella sipping the refreshing juice.

After the quiet time, I hunted for shells: bivalves, univalves, angel wings, fairy slippers, clams and scallops. This beach past time has always been and still is a favorite activity of mine.

Then, it was back into the crashing waves for one last time. I loved the feeling of the saltwater on my skin!

We showered, packed the wet towels into a plastic bag, then drove home.

As I grew older, it was my job to wash out the bathing suits and hang them on the outdoor clothesline. I never minded this chore as it was my way of showing appreciation for spending enjoyable days at my favorite summertime place.

Claire Deicke, Belmar

A memory to last a lifetime

I saw the twinkle in my brother’s eye as he strolled out on to the deck of my parents’ Long Beach Island oceanfront house. He leaned over the railing to get a better look at the waves that were breaking just past the dunes. I watched him shake the sand off of his bare feet and straighten the collar on his loudest Hawaiian shirt, his wayfarers dangling from a cord around his sunburned neck. With his youthful appearance, it was hard to believe he was 48 years old. It was even harder to believe that today was his wedding day.

I’d often sat with him on the sun-faded chairs by the window in my parents' living room, listening to the sound of the waves while he told stories about his high school days and a girl he once knew, the pretty one with the warm smile. He would regale me with tales of these memories from long ago and that remarkable girl who was dating the captain of the football team, the girl he could talk to for hours without ever running out of things to say. As he spoke, I could see the sun setting over the water behind him, speckles of diamond dust glinting on the waves as the ball of fire slid beneath the horizon. And I wondered if the sun had set on my brother’s life and if he would only remember his glory days as a series of missed opportunities.

When he reconnected on the internet with that long-gone girl with the warm smile, more than 20 years had passed. He was shy about it at first, an uncharacteristic trait for my naturally boisterous sibling whose confidence, on a scale of one to 10, could be firmly rated as an 11. The life of any party, he seemed unusually pensive when I watched him fishing along the shoreline after dinner, picking at his night crawlers and casting his line out into the heavy surf. Over lobster and steamed mussels, he recanted the story of their first in-person date and how it felt to be nervous because he didn’t want to blow it. He also talked about how the years had peeled back in a matter of minutes and he felt like they were in high school all over again.

As time went on, I could see the change in him, and I had decided long before he had, that indeed his best friend could also be his wife. So it was no surprise that he chose the perfect day for his wedding. It would be held on my parents' 50th wedding anniversary for a double family celebration. And it was also no surprise that he chose the perfect spot. His beach wedding would be memorable, not for its glamour and glitz, but for its connection to his family and friends. It was fitting that at a place where the family gathered to measure our days by the dolphins traveling upstream in the morning, and the neon sunset appearing over the water tower in the evening, that a rite of passage, a measure of his life, would be quantified here, amidst the silky sand and the dune grass waving in the breeze.

The occasion was relaxed as we all traveled down to the beach in a procession of plastic leis, dressed as if attending a touristy luau, carrying surfboards to create an altar, the local mayor performing the ceremony. Even the family dogs attended the festivities. To see my brother kiss his new bride and my parents kiss on their 50th anniversary, I saw the beginning and the end of a love story and everything in between. And behind them all, I saw that hot sun shining down on us over the trembling water, the backdrop of our lives and the passing of our days, and I felt grateful for all the warmth it had given us.  

Beth Miller, Millburn

This article originally appeared on Asbury Park Press: Jersey Shore summer: Readers share beach, family stories