Life at the Jersey Shore If you don’t actually live at the shore and you either are renting for a week or the season– or, like me, had to commute to the shore every weekend– life is not only a beach, it can be a bitch. Every Friday after work, I would drive home, change clothes, cut the grass — which I would normally do on weekends — and then get in the car and join the thousands of other cars, all heading south on the Garden State Parkway, which is the only major highway that runs north and south the entire length of New Jersey. It’s a toll road and every twenty miles or so you had to stop and pay a toll. When I was growing up the toll was 25 cents, today its 75 cents, which can really add up if you’re heading into Southern Jersey. But the most frustrating part of the toll was that in several of the areas you paid the toll, and then crawled in bumper to bumper stop and go traffic to the next toll. The seventy-five mile drive to our little slice of heaven at the shore could take an. ’ ‘Daaaaad.’ Tousling his hair, Sharon said, ‘I don’t have to worry about him. He’s in good hands.’ Sam paused a moment, happy for the compliment. ‘I think we should head home. Our mission’s accomplished here, Buddy.’ ‘Awww!’ ‘You can come back anytime. It was nice having guests. And thanks again for fixing that leak. Maybe now I can afford to repair something else around here.’ Was that a hint? ‘It was our pleasure, right Chris.’ ‘Yeah, Dad. You and I make a great team. You work and I’ll play video games.’ Sharon jumped to Sam’s defense, ‘Hey, that’s not fair! When do you work and Dad gets to play?’ The question had him stumped. His serious face said, ‘Dad doesn’t play anymore since Mom went to heaven.’ ‘Sure I do, Sport. C’mon, lets go.’ Sam ushered him out the front door. Turning to Sharon he whispered, ‘Kids, you never know what they’ll say next.’ Sharon rested her hand on his shoulder. ‘They do say the darnedest things… If you ever want to talk…’ ‘Thanks, Sharon. We’re fine..
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