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The crisp morning air and the pungent bouquet of decaying seaweed opened a scrapbook to my early career. The Hook, as we called it, ignoring the obvious Sandy part of it, hadn’t changed much in all these years. The single paved road through the narrow spit kept the Atlantic Ocean on one side from spilling over to Sandy Hook Bay on the other. To the right, a slender parking lot extended for more than a mile to welcome visitors to the easily accessible recreational beach (alas, the nude beach was less accessible). On clear days a squint could bring into view the Verrazano Narrows Bridge and the whispers of the New York skyline in the distance. To the left, the meandering shoreline hid several small coves where poles grouped like sentries signaled the fixed menhaden nets. A fyke net stuck closer to shore grabbed small bluefish – snappers – as they fed before heading offshore to begin their lives dodging day boats full of hungry tourists. I avoided the public beach and headed for this “research” side, where my memory recalled many days and nights at the fisheries lab I was on my way to visit.
And on this side the seaweed smelled. Not a curdling smell like the famed rotten egg odor of low tide; more of a salty, gummy smell that told of a productive growth perfect for hiding snails and small crabs from the marauding gulls. The air itself carried the briny spirit of past seamen. Standing on the sand just above the intertidal zone of Horseshoe Cove, looking out over the sailboats, skiffs, and, these days, kayakers, always filled my soul with a sense of fulfillment. Invariably, Dan Fogelberg’s The Reach would rise from the recesses of my mind into my subconscious ear. I belonged here.
Walking along the inner beach out to the rocky point I could see a few half-awake teenagers jigging for blue crabs. They may sit for hours, dipping a single hook on a string armed with a lonely hook and a once-frozen chicken neck for bait. Occasionally a slight tug would catch their interest long enough to slowly raise the line in hopes of finding a Jimmy blue crab desperately clinging for its meal…only to become a meal itself. For a while I sit on the rocks, watching, breathing in the perfumed essence of fresh marine air in the early morning. Listening to the silence of the seas, immersing myself in the scents of the day, the fragrance of life on the seashore.
And that life is good.
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David J. Kent is a science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.
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pambrittain said:
Wow, David. I felt like I was there with you. You are a great writer and great at painting pictures. So glad you posted it here as I haven’t been on Gather for a few days.
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davidjkentwriter said:
Thank you, Pam. I’m still learning how to write creatively. As for Gather, it seems to have some access issues today; very difficult to get on. But please try (I could use some recommendations). 🙂
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pambrittain said:
David, you’re doing an awesome job and I love reading your creative writing. I’m trying to get on to Gather. I really hate that bedbug and the string of conversation that’s mostly political and name calling. Right now, it took me to your site, but won’t let me see your posts. Bummer, it was on your front page, so I’m trying that. I’ve just about had it with that site.
Okay, made it, recommended and commented. Gee it only took 10 minutes.
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davidjkentwriter said:
I appreciate the effort it takes to get on Gather. It’s been long enough for any organization to correct the functionality if it really wanted to do so. For now I’ll post in both places until this site can get established.
Thanks also for the encouragement. I very much appreciate it. Slowly I’ll be extending the length of the stories as I develop my skills (and find additional time to write).
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pambrittain said:
I’ve decided to spend less time on Gather. I’m helping Elsie Duggan publish her book of poetry and considering all the headaches I’ve gone through have decided to post my experiences. Hoping to help others self publish. I realize you’re already published, but thought I should explain about the Gather thing.
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ru.smiln said:
Nice place, beautiful writing.
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davidjkentwriter said:
Thank you, Ru. Beautiful place!
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Dhanu Randi said:
Absolutely beautiful writing! Very descriptive. Well-written and easily a nice read.
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davidjkentwriter said:
Thank you!
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I. J. Khanewala said:
I love that smell of the old briny. Somehow I never made it down to Sandy Hook when I lived on long Island. You make it sound like I missed something great.
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davidjkentwriter said:
It’s a beautiful spot. Definitely stop in if you get a chance.
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geminilvr said:
Being a Jersey girl who spent many summers at the shore and Hook I love this – thank you
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davidjkentwriter said:
You’re welcome!
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Dangerspouse said:
Sadly, the Hook seems to have gone the way of many Jersey shores. Crowded, sometimes even in the off season, to the point where they often close the parking areas, with little relief from the mobs even once you’re out of the car and on foot. I’m not usually a “it was better in the good old days” kinda guy, but….it was better in the good old days. The thought of trying to fight my way in with a 12 foot surf pole now makes me shudder.
But a nice post, beautifully written. Thanks for the memories 🙂
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davidjkentwriter said:
Thanks. I really enjoyed writing this memory.
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newepicauthor said:
My ex wife had a knack for always catching the pregnant crabs, which of course we had to throw back.
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davidjkentwriter said:
Thanks for throwing them back. 🙂
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