A Day at the Shore, stop signs be damned

Perfect timing. "Mimi" called to invite me to the shore. She advertises herself as the oldest person in our group but she has marvelous agility of motion and a brilliant wit. She's one of the very few treatment-resistant people in our group, five weeks of mania, five weeks of such severe depression she can't leave home. She said one thing her illness has taught her is "I'm not afraid to die."

During her last mania she bought herself a beautiful shiny gray car, not a bad purchase, but just a couple years sooner than she needed. Mimi loves to drive. And is a good driver. Mostly.

Until, that is, we got to our first stop sign right in her neighborhood. She cruised right through it. "Mimi," I said. "I noticed you didn't stop at the stop sign."

"I never do, Ruth," she said cruising thru another one.

"Is this something new? Or have you always driven this way?"

"Ever since I began to drive. I do see them. And I'm very cautious. My husband used to hate it, but he was a very mellow man and never complained."

"Mimi," I said. "I think ......."

"Oh, if you want me to come to a full stop, I will. From now on."

The trip was uneventful except Mimi is quite the talker so we missed all our exits. Me, I just sit there as oblivious as a child in its baby-seat. I can't stand back-seat driving so I just look out the window at the scenery and let Mimi figure out the route.

The Commodore Perry Bridge was a new experience. We were headed for that but we never did find it.

"What happened to Commodore Perry?" I asked her.

"Oh, I missed it," said Mimi. "There are other bridges tho to Jersey."

Indeed there were and we cruised into the edge of Cape May and The Lobster House at 1:30 pm just in time for lunch.

So did everyone else. I have never been to the Lobster House when it wasn't mobbed. I carried the vibrating beeper and took it into the bathroom with me, setting it on top of the toilet paper holder. Suddenly it began spazzing off - baDEEP-baDEEP-baDEEP - and nearly bounced off onto the floor.

After a hearty meal and surprisingly slow service, we headed for the beach at Stone Harbor. This was a first for me. Plenty of parking, a very clean-looking town. Mimi told me she daren't drive over the speed limit of 25 as it was strictly enforced. Aha! Pedestrians had the right of way, as they should, with their beach carts and chairs and umbrellas and baby strollers. It was marvelous.

Every person does their own thing on the beach. Mimi stripped to her bathing suit. She has lovely long legs and arms, is a beautiful woman, and goes in waist-deep to meet and jump into the waves. I watched her from afar while leafing thru my James Michener Art Museum catalog which is featuring the late great Jim Henson and his Muppets this fall.

Then I did my beach tour, walking briskly to the jetty, feet digging in the sand, bending to pet shiny round mounds of jellyfish, and fingering a few small round stones. Eventually I bathe my face and arms in the endless waves of salt water.

We had a wonderful time. Mimi is a terrific companion. "I'm so glad you're not depressed now," I said. "Yes," she said, "I wouldn't trade this for a million dollars."

She said she wanted to go to her church and give thanks for the return of her mental health.

You'll do it when you're ready, I said. Besides, there's no god anyway.

Oh, you don't think so, Ruth?

Nah.

She mentioned she loved the last issue of the Compass. She found especial solace in the article by "Ralph" of New Jersey who wrote about his relentless 10-month battle to free himself of suicidal depression, still not gone by publishing time.

"Yeah, it's a true story," I said. "I'm glad that helped you. It's an awful story but I knew someone would find it helpful."

On our way out of town, we drove by the new Utz mansion, which Mimi declared a monstrosity. The neighbors are up in arms against it, she said.

"Gee, I think it's lovely," I said craning my neck to peek thru the narrow driveway at an immense dark-colored building reminiscent of the House of the Seven Gables.

"How can one family own such a huge house?" she said.

"Well, obviously they have enough money to afford it and whole families come to the shore together. Maybe they'll be hosting other families like the Herrs, the Lays, the Bachmans and Snyders..... a regular snack food consortium."

Here's a brief video, thanks to Greg Rittler.

The one reason I won't be back to Stone Harbor, unless the Utz family invites me up to swim in their backyard pool and use their cabanas, is b/c there is no boardwalk. How, after all, can you really enjoy the Shore's specialty foods - frozen custard, fresh-roasted peanuts, Stewart's root beer, fudge, curly french fries, crabcake sandwiches - if you're not walking on the Boardwalk with the crashing surf in the background.