From the Friday traffic, through the stinky marsh smell, we knew every landmark along the 75 mile ride to get there. As we reached exit
13 on the Garden State Parkway, the anticipation was so great, we could have run the 3 miles to the house. Avalon was, and is the great love of my life.
My aunt bought the cottage from my grandparents, and the house has been in the family since 1950. It has no insulation, heat, or even an inside shower because it is a true beach house. Meant to be used from May to October.
Every Saturday and Sunday, and a couple of weeks in the summer, we filled a cooler with sandwiches and drinks. And got to the beach before the lifeguards. We stayed on our towels and in the ocean, until way past the lifeguards left for the night.
We had to use beach tags, but never had enough, so when the beach tag checkers were walking toward us, two or three unlucky souls had to feign sleep or run into the ocean.
At least once a weekend, my mom chose a random sandwich and replaced the lettuce with seaweed. "Tee hee, it makes your hair curly"
No need for boogie boards, (they're for amateurs) my family perfected body surfing. My dad could catch a wave that was just a ripple, and ride it all the way up to the life guard stand. My mom showed us how to ride, even the roughest waves, without getting her hair wet. Many bathing suits were pulled down, or off, by waves, and screamingly retrieved, only to be lost again on the next ride.
We shared seaweed sneezes, toe pinching crabs, and dribble castles. The summer that Jaws came out, we hesitantly entered the water, only needing one gentle brush against a leg to send everyone screaming back to the shore.
When we were lucky enough that the ocean left us a gully, we spent hours splashing around the hot water, finding hermit crabs that were named and lovingly placed in buckets; only to die overnight. When sand crabs were accidentally dug up, we enjoyed watching them hurriedly bury themselves, just to dig them up again. The constant whistles of the lifeguards blended in with the roar of the ocean.
Sunburned, bathing suits filled with sand, seaweed, and pieces of shells; we returned from the beach, almost at dusk. We had to walk through the side yard, stepping on holly leaves, inevitably getting one stuck all the way in the bottom of our feet. After summers of fighting over who got to use the outside shower first, one of the adults came up with the idea of drawing cards. Highest card got to go first.
We had a bucket outside to wash our feet before we came in, but sand hid in bathing suits and hair that hadn't been washed yet. There are no rugs, it's all wooden floors; and no matter how much we swept or vacuumed, there was sand everywhere. But it didn't matter, sand is synonymous with a beach house.
We sat on our screened in front porch for hours, fighting over who got to sit in the hanging basket chairs, playing cards, Chinese checkers, parcheesi.
Our nana taught us how to play jacks, but none of us had her expertise; she could bounce the ball and pick up what looked like 100 jacks spread over the entire porch. It wasn't until we were in our teens that we realized there was, and had never been tv in the house.
Dinner was late, 9:30ish, after we kids sat on the back deck and husked enough corn to feed what felt like a small nation. There's a small Boardwalk in town, no rides, but at the time, it included a movie theatre that played Disney movies, usually something with Kurt Russell. There was an arcade with skee ball as the main attraction. Every summer we played skee ball, and saved our tickets till the end of the summer to take home a huge prize; something that would probably sell in a dollar store today. We ended the night with ice cream cones from Dippy Don's, where an invisible pianist entertained us on a player piano, while we waited in line, trying to choose between mint chocolate chip or bubble gum flavor, chocolate or rainbow jimmies.
After screaming as we jumped over the thousands of slugs on our sidewalk, the arguments started over who was stuck sleeping on the cot instead of a bed. We kids argued a lot in that tiny cottage, but it was all inconsequential, because, we were just so happy to be in my aunt's home, our home.
The main stores in town are still there today: Hoys 5&10, and Koehler's
Bakery. Hoys carries every Avalon tchotchke imaginable, as well as necessities. If you need underwear, a dog bowl that says "I love Avalon", rhinestone flip flops, and a plunger, Hoys has them. Watching the parade of people walk back and forth to Hoys, is almost as enjoyable as visiting yourself.
Koehler's bakery should be listed in Fodor's. It's an entity unto itself. No matter the time of day, your ticket number is at least 30 people from the counter. On Sunday's, my pop pop had always said we "had to get there before the Catholics" because once church let out, the wait was interminable. Fortunately the good people of Koehler's know this, and have many many counter people. They advertise their opening and their last day of the season, so people can plan accordingly. My Aunt buys Koehler's sticky buns, so that we can all freeze and eat them Christmas morning.
There were times as I was growing up that I visited other beaches with my friends. There were good beaches, great beaches, but none as fabulous as Avalon. None of the other beaches had our soft gray sand, the perfect distance from the boardwalk to the ocean, the perfect amount of people. And none had a beach that was a block and a half from my house. I felt like I was cheating on Avalon. I was, and always end up, drawn back to my first love.
The small cottages on the street are being replaced slowly with 2, and 3 story houses. We've lost sunshine coming from both directions. But our house stays the same. With all of the mansions surrounding us, it's still our cottage that people stop to look at, and compliment. We have the same 5 American flags hanging from the corner of the porch, our crooked tree, original cobblestone sidewalk, and 2 basket chairs hang invitingly from the porch. If you look up at the rafters of the porch, you'll see the rubber frog nailed up there by my Uncle, after my brother and I played one too many games of "hide the frog in the drinks".
If you're ever in Avalon, walk by my house and say hi. My uncle will get up from his chair on the porch and offer to cut you flowers from his garden. Or give you a bag so you can pick ripe pears from our trees. Because that's our Avalon. We love it so much, we have to share the joy.
