Some Opening Thoughts on New Jersey

New Jersey is often a state that people travel through simply to get to another place, which is usually New York City. That massive metropolitan landmark almost always overshadows Jersey, in one way or another. It’s always New York this, New York that. Jersey, as a result, is constantly undermined as the “shit hole” next door to the Playboy mansion, if you will. Yet, I’ve never held a firm stance on New Jersey. Until this past summer, I too had only seen glimpses of it through a car window, passing by too rapidly to notice its subtleties. I’d met a girl during my freshmen year of college from the Princeton area that left a bad taste in my mouth. But, I suppose you shouldn’t judge a state by a single person.

When I finally visited New Jersey, it was just after the Fourth of July. My friend Gia, from a small suburb in Pennsylvania, her family, and I loaded up a car and traveled the two-plus hours to Wildwood, on the Eastern Shore. More than simply being in New Jersey, I was anticipatory about seeing the ocean. Although Maryland, where I hail from (Go Ravens!), has an Eastern Shore, I hadn’t visited its coastal regions since I was a small child, much before my recollections begin. As soon as I entered Wildwood, the smell of the ocean hit me like a slap in the face. Its cool breeze and thick texture aroused my senses. It was a welcome experience, sharply contrasting my city living ways.

At first, New Jersey struck me the wrong way. Its citizens seemed pretentious and rude, and its law enforcement seemed ridiculous. At one point, Gia and I were pulled over, simply for driving past three in the morning. Granted, we had just come from an amazing party in Ocean City, but the holdup was extremely pointless, nonetheless.

I do, however, have two specific memories from New Jersey that managed to color my imagination with different thoughts regarding the likeability of the state. Firstly, I had been reading On the Road, by Jack Kerouac, throughout my visit. On one particular bright and sunny afternoon, Gia and I walked to the shore, which was a mere three blocks from our rental home, to get some sun. As we lay on our fold-up chairs, I flipped through the final pages of Kerouac’s masterpiece. As I reached the final paragraph, the book read as such:

“So in America when the sun goes down and I sit on the old broken-down river pier watching the long, long skies over New Jersey and sense all that raw land that rolls in one unbelievable huge bulge over the West Coast, and all that road going, all the people dreaming in the immensity of it…The evening star must be drooping and shedding her sparkler dims on the prairie, which is just before the coming of complete night that blesses the earth, darkens all rivers, cups the peaks and folds the final shore in, and nobody, nobody knows what’s going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old.”

After closing the book, I went for a walk alone along that long, long Jersey skyline that Kerouac so beautifully described, and I pondered so many things. I looked beyond the people, beyond the police, beyond New York City, and I saw something I hadn’t noticed before. Sometimes it may be difficult to see, but it’s always there, no matter where you are. New Jersey was beautiful, just then.

Secondly, I mentioned a party Gia and I attended in Ocean City. Her friend owned a condo right on the beach, overlooking the endless waves of the Jersey shore. We arrived at sundown, witnessing the ripples of deep orange and red penetrate into the water before everything turned black, and all that our senses would allow were the SWISH-SWISH of the blackened waves. We had an amazing night, sitting on a high porch seated above the crashing waves that we couldn’t see, but could feel with every screaming whisper they made. We all felt connected and beautiful and happy, sharing our stories and innermost feelings regarding each Pink Floyd album that blared from the living room stereo. Fireworks appeared over the ocean, and we all stared in wonderment at its man-made, yet indescribable beauty.

I realize that New Jersey, like any other state, contains its own share of ugliness. But, without that hideousness, beauty doesn’t seem nearly as stunning. Anywhere you live, whether in New Jersey or Alaska, there are always bad and good elements. One simply needs to know where to look for them. They could be hidden, like ancient artifacts preserved perfectly for its promising discovery; or, they could appear before you, larger than life, something one simply cannot ignore. I can’t say that my bad experiences in New Jersey turned my impressions of it into a negative being. That would be wrong, since some areas of my home state, which I adore more than any place in the universe, aren’t exactly stunning. Yet, the exquisite beauty of certain areas far overrides the appalling nature of others. One just needs to know where to look.

So, now that I’m writing for a New Jersey-based blog, I’d like to commend Jersey for its beauty, and for the good time I had that summer past. As a whole, you’re a better state than people give you credit for. Some things about New Jersey may be less than wonderful, but we can say that about virtually any place in the world. After all, New York City resides in a brilliant state.

- Elisabeth Harby, www.lovepeacekarma.blogspot.com