For a too-brief time in my life, I lived on an island. Six miles off the south Jersey coast is Long Beach Island. It's a long, skinny barrier island with Barnegat Bay on one side and the Atlantic Ocean on the other. It is my favorite place in the world.

I have seen it become very commercialized and built up over the past 50 years. I was 10 years old when I first saw it. my Uncle John, who loved being near the ocean, had a friend who introduced him to it. A fishermans' heaven it was. Uncle John bought a trailer in the trailer park on the south end. We would get to stay there for a week or two when my father had a vacation. My mom was not the ultimate fisher-wife. She didn't clean them and she wouldn't cook them. She would watch as my dad and I scaled and filleted them then rolled them in cornmeal and fried up a batch.

My dad was always immersed in fish one way or another. He was the editor of Tropical Fish Hobbyist magazine and we had tank after tank of various colored weird fish in our home. The other end was the pursuit of the perfect flounder, which was where the island came in.

The southern end of L.B.I. had mostly sand dunes. The marina where we rented a boat had 3 small houses on the street. We could always pick these out coming in so we never got lost. (They are still there but many more homes have sprouted on that street and you couldn't use them to navigate now.)

There was no boardwalk, no kiddie rides available then. The only small kid diversion was twilight frog catching. Up the island a ways there was a concrete building with pinball machines and a couple claw type grabbies machines. I didn't play pinball with out my cousins around because they were guys and girls were not encouraged to do pinball. The claw machines only yielded plastic combs. I was a total beach freak and that hasn't changed. It is no exaggeration to say that by 9 P.M., it was so quiet that you could hear the grass grow and the tide ebb.

And all things change........................ At first, it was the fishermen from Philadelphia. It was a straight run across Jersey to L.B.I., and they liked it and built homes there. Mostly for the summer but if you were going to retire,,,Hey! Where better could you go than there? Jack's Bakery got bigger and so did a lot of the small stores. This saved many a trip to the mainland for supplies, and the Islanders make $$ for three months a years. My Uncle John bought a 3 bedroom house with a converted garage apartment in the back. He bought it right after the hurricane of 1962 when the ocean met the bay and created a new inlet. A lot of people went to the mountains the next year. In time, they came back and brought friends and relatives. The island was getting more and more crowded every summer. Saturday, around noon, was turnover day. Those who had spent their time would be leaving and those who were coming would clog the roads and the causeway bridge. Here come the lemmings!

There is only one way on or off this island so you should know what to expect. Occasionally, a tourist would get lost on the southern end and would ask directions. They were sent to the "Bridge to Brigantine". (Which didn't exist.) The down side to that was they would eventually turn around and see you standing there laughing at them. There were no real through streets down there then.

We always considered the north end of L.B.I. where the rich people went. The homes were more opulent and had private beach access. Of course, they also had the lighthouse on the north tip. We had better frogs on our end. The southern end did have a bird sanctuary but the birds were not exotic so we figured the fancy herons and such went to the north end.

Summer starts early on L.B.I.. There are times when you don't notice winter at all. Something about the Gulf stream I've been told.

The Fourth of July is a Bacchanialia! Fireworks are illegal in N.J. but not every one comes empty handed. They have controlled fireworks displays on the bay side. One year the boat with the fireworks caught fire. That was an unexpected spectacular!

For the last week of June and well into August you can hear cherry bombs, M-80's, bottle rockets and stuff with no name going off all night. There are more police on in the summer and they are kept VERY BUSY!! The past 10 years or so, it seems like every New York cop spends his vacation on L.B.I..

I have seen a local cop pull over a pickup truck with a bunch of guys in the back who were verbally admiring the "Bikini Babes". He wasn't even out of the the patrol car when everyone in the truck was flashing badges at him. He acknowledged that and proceeded to write out the tickets anyway. I don't care if you're the Police Commissioner, don't piss off the locals! The 'Blue Wall' gets thin here in summer.

It's fun watching the "Coasties" pick off some of the more Wanton Water Warriors. These are the dudes who know one thing about boats,-------They float.---Usually. The Coast Guard can smell these pork brains out and they dearly love to give a few impromptu water safety lessons on the spot.

The Fourth of July Weekend, (sometimes 6 days long) brings out many Charlie the Tuna wannabes. Jet skis can be as lethal as cannons and even messier. Get caught in a sudden squall in the bay and you are doing a sequel to "The Perfect Storm". I have seen water skis being used in ways that defy gravity and bend the laws of physics. Surfboards----Remember the 'Gidget Goes Hawaiian' movies?

Made riding a surfboard look as complicated as getting on a bus. My son is a surfer. He's been surfing since he borrowed/ stole his first board. He lives on the island all year and he custom designs and makes surfboards. He will not sell a surfboard to some kid whose Daddy has a fistful of $$ and the kid wants to have a surfboard instead of the life jacket he still needs. If you are going to ride a surfboard that he makes, you better know how to look good on it. You are literally riding on his good name. When he and Beautiful Brenda got married last year they had a Summer Solstice Sunrise wedding on a beach. He paid for the wedding with a surfboard, custom designed for the minister's son.

The Island starts to calm down in September. By October, it's a very small town. There are very few year rounders on it but they tend to bond very tightly. It's a good place to raise kids because of that. The cashier in the supermarket will remind you to buy milk because she knows you always buy a half gallon on Thursdays. You can't play hookey on that island. If you didn't get on the bus where you should, the bus driver will keep count of exactly how many of your friends didn't get on either and when they get to the school, they will be reading the list and making the calls. It is truly, "It takes a village to raise a child".

Rarely did I see snow down there. There were rainstorms but until you drove over the bridge you didn't see snowflakes. Summer thunderstorms were always gorgeous. You can see the lightning slamming down into the bay and sometimes it was pink! I have no idea of what made it pink. I'm sure there is some dull meteorolgical reason, but I never cared why. It just was PINK!!

The Fourth of July will turn L.B.I. into a seething mass of beer tinged humanity. The locals look upon it as a sacrifice to keep money flowing in so the other three quarters of the years can be quiet and placid. The tourists,(Shoebies, as they are called ) See the island as permanent summer. It's a place with sand, water and melted popsicles and it only exists from May to September. I have been asked "How can you stand it here in the winter? It must be boring." The one thing it can never be is boring.

In early October, the Monarch butterflies show up. If you sit quietly in the bird sanctuary you can watch a beach plum bush get completely covered in orange and black flittering wings. Not available on DVD. When you sit on the beach and start counting the waves, (They say the ninth wave is the biggest) You can sit there for hours and you still can't tell if you won your bet with the seagulls. They are laughing at you so you probably lost.

I am kinda glad I won't be on the Island for the Fourth this year. Since 9-11 there has been a surge in patriotism. There are some who feel patriotism is better fueled by a drink or ten. They may decide to hire a Clydesdale to ride down Bay avenue to let everyone know how truly American they are. Long Live Anheuser-Busch!!!

I'll wait until October to celebrate the Fourth of July. There'll be more room. better parking and a whole lot of butterflies.