Family Togetherness Down the Shore
Marissa Stern, staff writer
MY THOUGHTS OF summers down the shore are less of
embarrassing stories and more of family memories.

When I think of the beach, I think of my grandparents’
Ventnor shore house the whole family used to go to during the
summers. I think of my uncle’s particular affi nity for White
House sandwiches and I think of the bowls of juicy watermelon
awaiting me and my cousins upon our sweaty returns from aft er-
noons on the beach.

It was a time for togetherness and bonding — normally.

If you consider being chased around with buckets of — thank-
fully — dead jellyfi sh (though my cousin was less fortunate once
JEWISHEXPONENT.COM WIKIMEDIA
A year later, this time in Wildwood, I was encouraged to go
down the slide at our motel’s pool. I did so and, even though I
could swim, I immediately began to fl ail when I hit the water.

Th at prompted my pregnant mother to dive in and save me.

My seaside woes continued in following years.

Once aft er a long day on the beach, we had dinner at Abe’s
Oyster House. My parents said they never saw me eat so much
“little pirate’s fi sh fry.”
But as we got up to leave, the little pirate decided to walk the
plank. Right when I got to the front of the restaurant (where a
long line of people waited for seating) I threw up.

A year later, we returned to Abe’s and I had some more little
pirate’s fi sh fry. Th is time, I managed to make it to the Steel Pier
before vomiting.

Looking back, maybe this is why I’m not much of a shore
person these days.

and found one quite alive in the ocean) by your younger sister,
then yeah, I had a whole lot of bonding. Sometimes she skipped
the bucket and had them in her bare hands like a monster.

“Hahahaha yes, I did that a lot. Th at was fun,” my sister con-
fi rmed in a rude text message. Shouldn’t the older sister be the
one doing the tormenting?
Anyway. We also used to sit where the sand met the waves
and pick up the wet sand and drizzle it into some kind of castle,
adding layers and seeing how high up we could make it before
the waves came and washed it away. Or we would turn handfuls
of wet sand into “meatballs.” Maybe we were just getting hungry?
THIS SUMMER
SEE MEMORIES | Page 16
JUNE 7, 2018
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