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98 home • PORT Sublime Summer by Frank Finale A nother summer begins and the Jersey Shore welcomes the return of visitors who have come to rediscover themselves in memories moored to this place: a barefoot walk along the beach on wet sand…a wide-awake view of the shoreline from a lighthouse or a Ferris wheel…a taste of frozen custard on the board- walk…or a first kiss under the boardwalk. All of it comes alive again with the smell of the ocean, the sounds of breaking waves, and the cries of gulls. History is a thin thread of r e m e m b e r e d events stretched over a dark sea of forgotten ones. I lived along the Toms River for sev- enteen years of my life, yet only a few events quickly surface to mind…an early morning swim before anyone arrives, my only company a couple of egrets and terns sailing above…so peaceful… I think back to a powerful storm that suddenly sprang up one hot July day. The sky darkened. Then an aggressive squall tossed reeds and bent trees. The storm white-capped the river with a punishing rain that boiled the water. Just before the full storm hit, all of the boats quickly retreated—"any port in a storm." Three small boats decided to beach near our house. Cars turned on their head- lights, sirens blared, and after about twenty minutes of chaos, the wind subsided and the rain lessened. Within an hour, the sun was shining again. As impressive as this small storm was, it didn't even make the news the next day. I can remember one morning when a mother duck and her seven ducklings waddled across Riverside Drive stopping what few cars were on the road. Drivers patiently waited, most with childlike smiles on their faces. Wherever they were travelling in such a hurry that morning didn't seem as urgent as allow- ing a family of ducks to safely cross the road and file into our backyard. Friends were always welcome at our riverside home in Pine Beach. Once a friend sailing on the river, a school princi- pal, pulled his Sunfish onto the beach, stum- bled up the rough path to our house, and shouted "Hello!" through the screen door. I greeted him, "Mr. P.! I haven't seen you in months. What brings you here?" "I was just sailing by and remembered that you lived here." I offered him a cold drink, and we caught up with each other's lives. He then invited me to go for a sail with him, which I did. Another time, a good friend, Rich, who had been crabbing on the river, asked if he could stop by and bring us some crabs. My wife said, "Sure. Bring them over. I have a big pasta pot we can boil them in." Continued on page 89 Sunrise at the Jersey Shore. Kelly S. Andrews