Time, It Marches On

The picture seemed innocuous enough. A family posted a photo on Facebook offering an entire cottage worth of furniture and household goods for free. "Cleaning out Cottage" read the handmade sign.

I almost skipped over it, but the address caught my eye. 8 Carver Road, Brewster, MA is a touchstone for me. It's the place where I took my first steps as an infant, where my wife and I honeymooned, where my first child took her first steps. Besides my current home, it's the most important piece of real estate in my life story.

Curious to know about the giveaway even as a part of me already knew and didn't want to acknowledge the facts, I texted my Mom to ask if she was aware. She was, and in fact had just been there in the days prior. "They're tearing down the cottage in Sept to build a home". And I sat there wistfully for a minute.

I suppose a bit of backstory is necessary at this point.

The little cottage at 8 Carver Road (943 square feet - I mean it when I say little) was built as a fishing shack in 1907. It was improved a bit by the time my great-grandfather Lawrence Moore purchased it in 1938 (little Easter egg there for people who've long wondered about the derivation of my middle name). Over time, the small cottages in the neighborhood were joined by larger beach homes, and a community called Brewster Park Club was established.

From 1938 to 2012, my mother's family spent most of their summers in that quiet beach community. The cottage sat on a double lot, so there was plenty of room to run around for kids. The front porch overlooked the ocean, and the smells from the fabled Brewster Flats mixed with honeysuckle to create a smell that sticks with me today. It was a two-minute walk to the community beach, and a one-minute walk to tennis courts and a playground.

The Brewster Store was a short drive from the park. As a kid, that meant penny candy. As an adult, good coffee, pastries, and a copy of The Boston Globe.

The cottage, which was called The Mooring in a nod to the family name, had three bedrooms, each equipped with a pair of twin beds. It had one bathroom and a glorious outdoor shower, a narrow but functional kitchen, a washing machine (but no dryer - that's what a clothesline is for), and a sitting room where we watched a lot of Red Sox games.

There were summers in my youth where I spent as much as a month at a time in Brewster. The cottage is my single most persistent memory of growing up. Later, my wife fell in love with it, too, and we spent weeks there together before and after having kids. Fried clams at JT's, chowder at Cobies, ice cream at Kate's, Brewster Whitecaps games at the local elementary school, long walks on the flats, laughter on the floats in the swimming area, leisurely paddles on a kayak along the shore, scraping our feet on the barnacles on the jetty, chasing hermit crabs in shallow water, marveling at dragonflies, taking down the flag and folding it every night like my grandfather taught me, shopping days in Chatham, and so many more staples of my past.

The sunsets at BPC, man. Spectacular.

Several Gheorghies have spent time in The Mooring's modest confines. I've got a great picture somewhere of Whit's first-born and my own recoiling with screaming laughter as he lifted a steamed lobster from a pot in the kitchen. They must've been around four years old. Dooger and his family came out to see us at least once, and Dave dropped by, as well.

Nine years ago, my grandmother told us that she was planning to sell the place, so we should make a point to get there one last time. My cousin and his then-fiancee joined us, and we cooked up a plan. We approached Nana and told her we'd like to buy it. 

"You can't afford it," she told us. We protested, offering to prove to her that we could. But like the good, stoic New Englander she was, she wouldn't budge. I think she was worried about creating divisions in the family, as her sister's kids weren't in on the plan, and even though my cousin and I would've kept the house open to the whole family, Nana held firm. She and my grandfather are both buried in the cemetery that runs alongside the front of the park, a stone's throw from the place they loved so much.

The Mooring sold for $725,000 in 2012. Zillow says it's worth $1.3m now.

I met the family that purchased it last summer. They seemed lovely. They have three boys in their teens, and they adore the place. But as it turns out, they're planning for a future where their boys will have kids of their own, and 943 square feet ain't much room for multiple generations.

And so, sometime this autumn, 75 years of my family's history will be bulldozed, and another family's memories will add a new chapter. I'm sure the new house will be gorgeous, just like the one next to it, which underwent a similar transformation about a decade ago. It is the very definition of bittersweet.

Time does march on. But gosh did it slow down when I was at that wonderful little cottage. I'll miss it more than I can tell you.

The 27,000 Reasons Why Candlepin Bowling is Better Than Ten Pin Bowling

I am forty-three years old, and for most of those years, my family has vacationed in Chatham, Massachusetts. I consider myself lucky that I've spent so much time on the Cape. It is scenic, historic, and full of natural wonders. And while it's not my favorite seaside destination, it has moved up in the rankings recently -- and sadly, this should have happened many years ago. Though the Orleans Bowling Center has been in existence for my entire life, just a few miles up Route 6A, it wasn't until yesterday that I tried my hand at candlepin bowling. And now everything is different.

It is hard to explain how much better candlepin bowling is than regular ten pin bowling, but I will try. Now that I have bowled candlepin, I want to do bad things to my ten pin bowling ball. That's right, I  have my own ten pin bowling ball. Sixteen pounds. I even have my own shoes. And I HATE ten pin bowling. I gave it the "college try." Went Monday night with some buddies. Drank beer. Rolled the ball. Tried to learn to hook it into the pocket. Hurt my wrist. Drank more beer.

But now I want to chuck my ball out of a moving car. I want to hit it with a wrecking bar. I want to hurt it. Sodomize it. Fill the holes with cement and toss it off the Donald Goodkind Bridge.

Now that I have experienced the thrill and convenience of candlepin bowling, I hereby swear -- with Gheorghe as my witness -- that I will NEVER ten pin bowl again. NEVER! I might drink beer in a ten pin alley while my friends bowl, but never again will I stick my sweaty fingers into one of those giant ten pin balls and try to spin it down the lane. Instead, I will sit back, quaffing my lager, and expound upon the merits of candlepin bowling, until my friend's either kick the shit out of me, or convert to my frame of mind. Frame of mind. (There is the problem that there are no candlepin bowling alleys in New Jersey, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it).

For those of you who have never candlepin bowled, let me try to explain what makes it so great. And don't get me wrong: it's not THE greatest thing. I'd still rather play soccer or darts. It's just that it is so much greater than regular bowling. Here are some reasons why:

1. Everyone uses the same ball. It looks and feels like a bocce ball. There are loads of them, and they are interchangeable. You can't even tell the difference between them. There's none of that interminable walking around the lane, trying to find a ball that fits your fingers. And there's no advantage to bringing your own ball. So there's none of this business:

2. No finger-holes to worry about. I sweat a lot, and I have a thick thumb. This is a dangerous combination: I'm either worried about getting my thumb stuck in the ball or losing my grip completely. And I hate holding my hand over that little air-vent.

3. After you bowl, you don't have to wait for your ball to return. Just grab another one from the rack and chuck it! This is great for my ADD.

4. You get three tries. Three is the magic number of jokes and darts and Star Wars trilogies. Two is not enough. Five is right out. The number of the counting shall be three. That's three, sir.

And you bowl two frames at once. So you get six rolls on your turn, which is enough to get a feel for things. Two rolls and then your turn is over? That's just stupid. The number of the counting shall be three.

5. No ball weights to worry about. I own a sixteen-pound bowling ball, because I'm a real man. I used to bowl with it on Monday nights. Tuesday mornings, my elbow always hurt, because not only was I a real man, but I was also a real idiot. If I used a lighter ball, I probably could have been a decent bowler, but I wasn't going to sacrifice my machismo for skill. Candlepin bowling removes the testosterone factor.

6. The fallen pins aren't cleaned from the lane. They just lie there, and you can use them to knock down the other pins. Sometimes, the best thing to do is roll a gutter ball, because it will hit a dead pin and consequently knock down a corner pin (I'm not sure about the legality of this move, but it works like gangbusters).

7. Three, count them three foul lines! One foul line is lame. Two lines aren't quite enough. Four foul lines would be ridiculous. Five . . . right out. But three foul lines is perfect. There's a foot fault line, of course. Then there's the lob line, ten feet out -- so you have to roll the ball, not hurl it softball style. And finally, there's the fantastically named Dead Wood Line . . . if a pin rolls two feet forward of the head pin, you can't knock it into the other pins with the ball, but if it's "live wood" then you can use it to knock down the remaining pins.

8. Candlepin bowling is impossible. The highest score EVER recorded is 245. If you can bowl over one hundred, that's a good game. No one has ever bowled a perfect three-hundred. So every time you head out to candlepin bowl, you might set the record.

I, for one, am sick of hearing about people who have bowled a three-hundred game (unless, of course, it's Homer Simpson. You can do it Otto! You can do it Otto! Make this spare and I'll buy you free gelato!)

I've had several students do it, and a good friend of mine. It's annoying. What's left once you bowl three hundred? Nothing. You might as well off yourself, because you've achieved perfection. The rest of your life will be a complete let-down. An exercise in futility and disappointment. But if you're a candlepin bowler, there's always something to shoot for . . . two forty-six, baby, two forty-six.

9. Kids are just as bad as adults at it. Among the five of us who bowled yesterday, my nine year old son Alex had the only strike. He followed it with a "one." I was the only person to get a spare. I followed it with a gutter ball. Men, women, children, cripples, the blind . . . everyone sucks at candlepin bowling.

10. Even though you'll suck at it, the motion is smooth and easy. It's essentially like pitching a softball. And who doesn't love a softball pitcher?

I'll leave the 26, 990 other reasons for another post, but follow my advice: get in the car and drive to Cape Cod, toss your ten-pin bowling ball into the Nantucket Sound, and give candlepin bowling a whirl. I promise you'll never go back. And if you ever catch me in a ten pin bowling alley, drop a sixteen pound bowling ball on my testicles and remind me of my promise: that I will never roll a ten pin ball again, as long as I live.

P.S. I'd love to open a candlepin alley in New Jersey. I am guessing once you read this post, you'll be willing to financially back me. Who is in?

Battle of the Beaches Round One: Chatham vs. Sea Isle City . . . The Jersey Shore vs. Cape Cod

This Recurring Feature Destined to Stop Recurring may not be as well organized as The Caucasian Hip-Hop Artist Invitational, and it may not be nearly as important as Know Your Minor League Mascot but it is timely and topical, as it's summer and it's hot as Beelzebub's armpit out there. I also realize that when I was brought on as the Official G:TB Travel Correspondent, it was because of my extensive journeys to exotic locales around the globe. A decade ago I'd be advising you on what islands to visit in the Galapagos, the best places to snorkel in the Andaman Sea, and where to buy reefer in Dahab (not that I ever bought any reefer in Dahab . . . hypothetical reefer). So you might be disappointed by the content of this post-- it's pretty mundane. But I have accepted it and so can you: my globetrotting days are long gone; now I have two young boys who like to dig, so when we go to the beach, it's somewhere that is a day's drive from central New Jersey. I also realize in these difficult economic times, that ANY vacation is a good one: there are people out of work who aren't heading anywhere this summer, but still, judgments must be made and opinions-- absurdly subjective opinions-- must be aired.

Round One of the Battle of the Beaches is an archetypal battle, The Jersey Shore versus Cape Cod. A clash of cultures, values, morality, philosophy, scenery, and breast size. To tattoo or not to tattoo? For these two spots, that is the question. These two seaside towns make me think deeply and metaphysically: how could two places with sand be so different? I'll break it down and then give you an unequivocal winner.

Scenery

Between beers, some people like to look at stuff when they go on vacation. This category is for them.


Chatham

Chatham is scenic. Quaint houses tucked away on wooded lots. Quaint houses without air-conditioning, which is usually not necessary on the Cape . . . except for last week. And some quaint mansions. Harry Connick Jr. and Johnny Depp both have houses in Chatham. Why Chatham? The winding roads and twisted pines and live oaks, dunes covered with sea grass and beach plum and spartina. Water everywhere. You can't drive a half mile in Chatham without running into water, whether it is the Oyster River or the Nantucket Sound or Mill Pond or the harbor or the ocean itself. There are seals in the ocean. Seals are scenic (although rumor has it that you shouldn't pet them, as they are carrying some sort of debilitating virus). There are also terns and sand dollars and moon snails and hermit crabs and lots of other fun things to watch and collect. There are even freshwater ponds (and a bike trail alongside them). You can drive up the coast to the exceedingly scenic Cape Cod National Seashore. The town of Chatham itself is so cute and scenic it borders on fey (which rhymes with gay . . . which reminds me, you could also drive on up to Provincetown which is also exceedingly scenic and has a great gay scene . . . there's some sort of a correlation here).

Sea Isle City

Sea Isle City is not so scenic. The quaint houses have been knocked down and replaced by giant multi-bedroom boxes with multiple decks. But these giant boxes are air-conditioned and roomy. Since I live year round in a quaint house that doesn't have air-conditioning, I don't mind vacationing in a giant air-conditioned characterless box. There aren't many trees left in Sea Isle City, in fact, there's not much greenery at all. A thin swath of grass and nettles on the small dunes before the wide beaches is about all you get. There is less wild-life than on the Cape, although you may spot dolphins and I once stumbled on a scene I'll never forget . . . a baby whale beached itself on a sandbar and fifty people got into the water and pushed it free. I was wearing Ian in the Baby Bjorn, and I waded out into the ocean with him so he could see the whale.

Shell collecting isn't as good as on the Cape, as the shells are usually smashed by the waves, and the one time I found a perfect conch shell, everyone claimed I stole it off someone's porch. You might get lucky if there's dredging going on-- we once found hundreds of conch shells washed up with the bottom sand the dredger sucked toward shore to expand the beach . . . but dredging is kind of gross and smelly, they don't dredge up at the Cape because they don't need the beaches to be as huge as in Jersey. Population density. Once in Sea Isle City in August they installed a giant pipe which you had to climb over to get to the beach each day-- they were sucking sand all the way down the beach. Not very scenic. Front yards in Sea Isle City are usually stone, maybe you'll get a shrub or two, but that's it. The sand and the ocean look the same as anywhere else, so you need a place with a deck facing the water, unless you like to watch people, but that's a different category.

Advantage: Chatham. But this advantage might actually be a disadvantage, Chatham is so scenic that it makes me a little sick to my stomach.

Girls

Chatham

When I was younger, I couldn't last very long on the beach. I don't like the heat and I don't like the sun. But now I know how to survive if I'm bored (this also works at the circus). You look at the girls. Normally, strange women don't hang out near me in their underwear, but these rules are abandoned (for better or worse) at the beach. In Chatham it is often for the worse. Generally, Chatham attracts an older, well to do crowd. People that have the finer things in life and also tend to eat a lot. And grandparents with their grandchildren. Grandparents are not fun to ogle.

Chatham is also full of white people, REALLY white people. Last week, I saw a girl who was significantly whiter than T.J. Painfully white. I couldn't stop looking at her, but not in that good, stalker way. More like the way I can't stop looking at T.J.'s pink belly during the OBFT. And for whatever reason, these very white people of Chatham never tend to have much in the cleavage department. Someone smarter than me can figure out this correlation.

You are also running the risk on the Cape that the weather will be typical: cold and foggy. Girls will be wearing sweatshirts and sweat pants on the beach, but you won't even be able to see that far because visibility will be less than ten feet. You'll be able to watch your kids dig or read a book, but that's it. I will say this, though, last week was one of the hottest on record at the Cape and if you make the trek out to South Beach, which is below the Chatham Light, you will be pleasantly surprised. I saw more cute women (but still no cleavage) here than every other beach combined. Perhaps it is because you have to navigate a lot of steps and hike a bit, which weeds out anyone who's not in shape.

Sea Isle City.

Density. In August, the Jersey Shore is packed . . . and Sea Isle City may be less packed than Belmar, but you're still talking about a LOT of people, and while this can be annoying, it is great for scoping out hot women. Proximity and the law of averages guarantee you will be near someone worth ogling. And people are tan here, and often curvaceous, and generally fit. The surf is much stronger here than on the Cape, so there is also the chance that's someone's bikini top might get ripped off by a huge wave.

Sea Isle City also has a number of bars, which attracts the young folk, and it has a relatively inexpensive bay-side, where the young folks can rent houses. So you get a wide range of ages to look at as well (although if you get to the beach at 8 AM because your kids get up at 6 AM and by 7 AM you are ready to kill them, you're probably not going to see any cute college girls). There is also a well used running path along the beach . . . Cape Cod is good for a lonely run or bike ride on shady lanes and trails . . . you will have more titillating scenery when you go for a jog in Sea Isle City.

Advantage: Sea Isle City

Night Life

Chatham

In Chatham you might find yourself at a cocktail party drinking beer and chatting with a little man wearing pink shorts (he'll call them Nantucket Red but they are PINK). And this man might be G:TB founding father Rob. Give him directions to Provincetown.

You might find yourself talking to your jovial host and notice that he has lobsters sewn into his shorts. Or pandas. Or armadillos. You might find yourself in The Squire, a rustic and quaint Chatham bar that serves great seafood, and you might be settling in for a long night's drinking, but to your surprise, you and all your friends will be herded out at 12:45 because closing time on the Cape is 1 AM. And there are no grease trucks if you're hungry for a late night sandwich. On the Cape, like in Williamsburg, you have to make your own fun-- perhaps Igor will write a post on that topic . . .

Sea Isle City

I am more of an afternoon partier-- it really takes something special to get me to stay up late-- but there are certain magical places that make me want to give up sleep: Bangkok, New Orleans, Memphis, Prague, and Madrid come to mind. Sea Isle City is one of these places. The bar scene is fantastic-- it's not so huge that it's overwhelming, but there is plenty of variety. There are bands everywhere and they play at various times so you don't have to stay up until eleven to hear live music. They range from Bon Jovi cover bands to cheesy bands with awful names like "Burnt Sienna" to the inimitable LeCompt. You might also run into The Juliano Brothers, an obese trio that does a fantastic cover of Baba O'Riley.

Just be careful that your wife doesn't run off with the band.

If music is not your thing, then watch for mechanical bull night at the Springfield. The five dollar cover gives you unlimited rides. Apparently, no one takes advantage of the "unlimited" clause-- they ride once, get spun to the point of puking, and then chucked from the bull and go and sit and drink beer, but the night we went we were so inebriated that we rode the bull all night, until the Russian operator had pretty much had it with us, and started genuinely trying to kill us. We did get better (until we got worse) and the DJ gave us t-shirts for our perseverance.

Food and Drink

Chatham

The seafood is excellent on Cape Cod. I recommend the cod. But the restaurants can be a bit pricey, and they are usually pretty reserved. And Christian's has closed and Mongo the bartender is no longer employed in Chatham, so things are a bit bleak. Still, it's worth getting a lobster roll at John's in Provincetown and the local oysters at the Squire are delicious. And, ironically, New England Pizza's hamburger pie rivals anything you can get at the Jersey shore (except Pete and Elda's, but that is a different beach).

Sea Isle City

The reason you live in New Jersey is for the food. Sea Isle City has it all. Great seafood at Mike's Dock and an excellent system-- you order when you walk in and then go sit at a picnic table and drink the beer you brought with you. That's right: THE BEER YOU BROUGHT WITH YOU. For those of you who don't live in Jersey, a lot of restaurants (especially in Sea Isle) let you Bring Your Own Beer. No restaurant prices, no waiting for the waitress, no charge, no funny looks when you crack your sixth Corona (because they go down awfully fast) and no exorbitant bar bill. The tiny steamed clams, the oysters, the stone crabs, the calamari, the fried fish, and the crab cakes are equal to anywhere (except perhaps the Outer Banks, but that is a different battle). The only downside is you might not be able to get cod.

You don't have to like seafood to like the food in Sea Isle City. But it's South Jersey, so you have to like sandwiches. My cousins actually base their week around the sandwiches they will eat for lunch. Philly cheese steaks, chicken cheese steaks, massive Dagwoods, broccoli-rabe and sausage, blackened fish, fried fish, and, of course, Welshie's specialty . . . the barnyard . . . a cheese steak concoction with bacon, chicken and beef. You can also get a late night sandwich in Sea Isle, and the WaWa is open twenty four hours.

Advantage: Sea Isle City. You don't fuck with New Jersey when it comes to food.

Beach Sports (including but not limited to Digging)

Chatham

Chatham is great for kayaking and boating-- lots of winding waterways and quiet places to explore. My cousins have a boat and so we always take a couple of trips with them. We do NOT have a boat, nor do I ever plan on getting one, because boating seems to require way to much preparation for me. We also don't have a kayak. The swimming is good at Oyster Pond, if you like to swim laps. Judging by my kids, the digging is just okay on the Cape. The surf isn't very big and sometimes there can be a lot of seaweed and/or mung. The collecting is fantastic, but for more action packed beach sports you need bigger surf. There can also be giant green-head flies which will take a chunk out of any part of your exposed body.

Sea Isle City

Sea Isle City has fantastic flat beaches with fine sand and rolling surf. It's great for skim-boarding (although my skim-boarding days are probably numbered . . . I am the oldest, fattest, and hairiest skim-boarder on the beach these days). You can also rent a sea kayak or surf. The beach itself is good for soccer, washers (a South Jersey beach version of horse-shoes) and boccie. And the digging is phenomenal: because of the fine packing sand and gentle slope of the beach, you can really create some large holes and piles and channels. And we've never had a problem with green-head flies . . . they must need beautiful scenery to breed.

Advantage: Sea Isle City


And the winner is . . . Sea Isle City! The Jersey Shore defeats its first challenger handily-- unless you require a lot of scenery and high end shopping and a thriving gay scene up the road. But if you like good food and cute women and live music and air-conditioning, and don't mind a little cheese, then Sea Isle City is the place for you.

In a few weeks, Sea Isle City will take on the Outer Banks, since I will be leaving my Sea Isle City vacation a few days early in order to get down to the Outer Banks Fishing Trip. This should be a fantastic head to head match up, only made better by the proximity of the two trips. Until then, I hope that some of the other Official G:TB Travel Correspondents continue The Battle of the Beaches, as I will be sweating my ass off in central New Jersey. And I will leave you with the most important scenery of all, because really, it's not about where you go, it's about who you are with . . .