The Light House

February 04, 2010

New Jersey was the state when in the middle sixties I had a first professional mmusic gig. It was in Count Basie’s hometown. Years later and not that long ago I was there again for the Count’s 100th birthday celebration; dream come true.

Unfortunately he wasn’t there but a few of his sidemen were. Great time that was; lots of food; a continual video of the Count’s life; black and white photo’s hanging everywhere on the walls; a display case of all things, Count. I can count the Count’s records as one of mmy favourite playing and personal teaching tools.

Again, the mid-sixties I had gigged a whole summer on one of that same state’s boardwalk beaches. Needless to say I hope to one day recall and write a few of those stories. One in particular I can remember was when I missed the whole day in order to catch up with a little needed rest. Veal Parmesan, a great breakfast.

Being raised in a borough of New York City, the one closest to the waterways that separated mmy home state from New Jersey, many opportunities arose to cross the border. On the other hand many ‘Jersey’ residents who were mostly underage, traveled across the bridge to our little burgh because our state had a lower drinking age. The border bars patrons were mostly ‘Jersey girls ‘n boys.’

Mind you, this didn’t pass the knows of the local boys in blue bye any means. Just about anywhere one tried to cross those bridges, before they came to it; it was quite obvious the men in blue were prepared for all the tricks of the tirades.

I’mm sure some would argue maybe not all of the tricks were noticed but let’s just say it wasn’t that easy to pass without the obvious difference of license plate colours; not to mention too many in a car with mostly no designated anything.

Each passenger including the driver designated themselves to hide as much as they could carry home. I’mm sure the trunks of cars as well as under the seat or person were favourite hiding places that most times didn’t pass blues eyes. I know this after visiting some of those establishments and befriending a few inebriated beyond repair individuals; proud of their last escape, hoping for more.

Our borough for some New York residents should have been part of New Jersey; we were that close. I’mm sure there are a few New Yorkers who think it is or wish it was. In any case we’re honoured to say, it’s not. When the Verrazano Narrows Bridge was built, thousands more people relocated to our borough because of smaller buildings called houses - with grass; more trees than cement.

This brings us to the subject of the words at the end of this blog. The Light House is a home in another beautiful part of New Jersey, owned by mmy good friend Johnny’s brother Joe and his wife Beverly; also friends. Although not seeing them much, each time I have they’ve been more than welcoming than the people you may call or know as relatives. A few overnights are most unforgettable.

Joe is a retired school principal and Beverly is a real estate agent. Joe having too much energy and a brain like Beverly’s that operates at the speed of light just couldn’t sit still so he’s joined his wife in the same occupation where they live.

Ah yes. Where they live is on LBI; Long Beach Island. No, it’s not anywhere near California. Oddly enough, I’mm still talking about New Jersey. With all the good things to say about New Jersey’s beaches, I’mm sure LBI would be in the mix somewhere. Not far from Atlantic City, New Jersey’s Vegas, LBI is quite small.

I think it’s about five miles long and one mile wide at its widest. That’s not saying much really when you’re talking ocean waves that can and does inundate the place from time to time. Google it; perhaps you’ll think Bermuda or someplace like that. The photo’s do it justice by any tourist board’s standards.

The construction of houses on LBI reflects ‘ocean side’ as part of the code for the foundations; which are actually telephone pole size things both in width and in height. Each one has to be buried in the sandy earth with pile drivers; like as a pier or dock except it’s still considered land for as long as the ocean keeps it dry.

Having the ocean for a neighbor THAT close is like any place really. If you build it on sand then you must know sooner or later Mother Nature let’s you sea that she’s definitely in control of the situation. Sand comes and goes with the tides.

Like earthquakes; I don’t care how humans think they can prevent Mother Nature from doing anything she wants to, the cards are stacked in her favour so to speak. Boulders, cement walls to keep her out? Nope, end of story; end house?

Luckily for Joe and Bev and most other residents on LBI their place still stands with them still in it. Mind you, being there to witness it once; from time to time a few of the streets became impassible when either it rained too much or the ocean gets higher than the first floor. This doesn’t happen on the whole island; not yet.

LBI has a very tall light house at one end of LBI. The photo up top is one taken from the inside when on a visit to Newport, Oregon. I love light houses too and have scene mmy share of those gorgeous structures. The bottom photo is one taken from the top of athe light house on LBI. Matters not really, once you’re at the top of one like a merry-go-round, you’d like to be on or on top of every one you see.

Bev’s pride and joy home atmosphere/decoration/or theme? Bev is a light house person too. She has posters, little statues; statuettes; knick knacks on shelves; light house sculptures, paintings and such, everywhere you care to look. The whole house, especially the downstairs has so many windows and light coming in from every direction to add to the theme that anyone can certainly call it;

The Light House

Hear radiance found
Inn a vision drift place
Oui, gaze out and play
‘Round the see sure embraced

Won travels from timed
Two in joy fresh expanse
Bridged across threw thoughts
Freedom’s spree and shore’s dance

Their’s the waves - si sighed
End the flock’s streams eye trade
Steer traffic’s gone - bye
Hear the sun’s glow moons wade

Sea out look kiss calm
The look King - Queen glassed lanes
Bev’s grand beach sand dunes
Joe’s sale boat fine framed

The mantel’s adorned
Paint’s buy – host’s pans fan
JB shore’s kind hearts
Lift’s heron sculpture stands

The porch winds brisk flow
Stirs up grass hop purrs glare
Flights flowers grown wild
Coffee morning’s rich fare

Field the peeks of rest
There’s no better them, this
Share’s sun, moon, rose stars
Light’s Centennial bliss

Their’s the light house - sail’s true
Oui knee’d say - know moor
Those who’ve found J & B’s lights
Will know love’s opened door.

(Love to you too, Joe & Bev)