I remember The Lady of The Dunes.She's a ghost who haunts the beaches of Cape May, New Jersey. It was in that city, filled with it's quaint Victorian style houses, the kind that towered three stories over the street, hugging the shady oak canopy, that I remembered. They commanded a distinct presence in Cape May - their shadows cast upon narrow city streets lined with cars, peppered with lazy tourists, and laid back locals. The stately homes served as a reminder to the Cape May of yesteryear.
When I was much younger, I stood on the beach collecting Cape May "diamonds". They were small, translucent rocks that shimmered like diamonds. As a curious child, I loved Cape May - the point at the end of the small peninsula jutting off southern New Jersey, where I could collect diamonds and polish them and pretend they were of actual value; where I could see the sun sink into the water at the end of the day; where I could eat pancakes stuffed with fruit in one of the quaint Victorian houses that was transformed into a restaurant.
Then, just up the road from picturesque Cape May, is a striking contrast. Glittering casinos dot the skyline of Atlantic City. They rise above the water and cast a striking reflection of boisterous activity against the calm serenity of the sea. It was there, in Atlantic City, that I was born. Not physically, but in a different sense. Some of my first jobs were in that city, working for several of the casinos there.
Now, I have seen the devastation that has befallen these two cities on the New Jersey coast. I watch with the rest of the country in horror, at the decimation of the Atlantic City boardwalk, the toxic floods, and the homes that were literally just washed away. It's the New Jersey shore - the place with Wildwood rides, the boardwalks, the fantastic pizza, the lemon shake ups, the traffic jams, the great pancakes and the sand, sun and fun.
But the Lady of the Dunes is another thing. She is known to walk the beaches of Cape May. Maybe she was off that night the storm hit, or maybe she had no control over the event. I just know one thing: Cape May, Atlantic City, and the rest of the Jersey shore will emerge much better. You see, sometimes we have to nearly lose something to realize how strongly we feel for it. Look at New Orleans in 2005. We almost lost that city.
This is the same thing. Who doesn't love the Jersey shore? They will come back. They will get better. And the Cape May, the rides, the casinos, and everything that makes Jersey "Jersey" will be back, and welcoming us once again with boxes upon boxes of delicious salt water taffy.
And then, when I stand in the future, on the beach in Cape May, collecting diamonds, feeling the cool sand between my toes, I will look to the west, to the crimson sun dipping into the water, and feel like a kid all over again.
