Long Beach Island Vacation Magazine

97 your home first and then going down to the shore for the weekend, or will you be heading to Belmar directly from the supermarket grand opening?" When I told my boss the answer he prob- ably already knew, that Belmar would most likely be my destination following the corpo- rate event, a five second silence was followed by what could only be described as a mourn- ful and muffled plea. "O.K. But just do me one favor. Please don't ruin it." "Ruin what? The Mr. Peanut costume? What could possibly happen?" I assured my boss the sacred costume would rest comfortably in the back seat of my beat-up Ford Gran Torino company car for the duration of the weekend, and that there was little to worry about. All in all, the event became one of the most memorable afternoons of my twenties. On Monday morning, in the weekend's aftermath, I brought the outfit back to the corporate office. It was showing a few signs of wear and tear—and rust. "I think it might have gotten stuck in the rain for a little while," I said and then hightailed it out of there. Despite the wild times, the Mr. Peanut costume did live-on to be paraded about at Pathmarks, Foodtowns, and Acmes in the days to come. Within a year, I had quit my job and drove out to California with a good friend to try and "find myself." I guess I succeeded because not long after I returned home, my drinking and partying days ended for good, and I wound up on Wall Street for the next thirty-five years. Yet I have to believe there are still a few people around today, who upon seeing a Planters Peanut display at their local super- market, tell their grandkids about the time, so many years ago, they saw the real Mr. Peanut make an appearance on a Belmar beach, and even got to join him for a swim! u Charlie Gobel is a lifelong resident of New Jersey and a retired businessman, having spent the last thirty years as a Senior Vice-President for several major investment firms. He is also a writer and has been published in numerous magazines and newspapers. Home Port continued from page 98 Unfortunately for my boss, upon arriving in Belmar, the combination of a frenzied crowd of half-naked, hyped-up partygoers and more beer flowing than could be humanly consumed was too much to overcome. Mr. Peanut had to make an appearance, and soon he was inside D'Jais bar. It was a sweltering hot August day, and the magnificent Atlantic was just feet away. It became necessary for Mr. Peanut and the crowd of revelers to take a swim. The throng followed Mr. Peanut across Ocean Avenue, onto the beach, and into the surf. Good times ensued and photos were taken, some of which confirm Mr. Peanut was indeed atop the lifeguard stand throwing bags of peanuts into the crowd.

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