N.J. Pride and Prejudice

  I have always been a fan of all things that are New Jersey.  Since moving here back in 1977, other than the occasional gigantic mosquito, earwig, or the fear of instructional swim in camp-it was love for my nine year old self. 

   During my high school years as a teen, in the spring, when people would start coming down to Jersey from Brooklyn, New York; I shared in the feeling of being invaded. 

   People were rowdy and loud-but it brought action to our quiet Jersey avenues-along with my BFF.  

   Growing into our driving skills, the more summers that came, the more I’d hear my New York friends complain about ‘the locals’ being rude, nasty, and abusive.  It was funny because it was EXACTLY how I’d felt about the Benny's (a tourist who visits the Jersey shore from Bayonne, Elizabeth, Newark, or New York) coming down and complaining about the slow service and the Mayberry lifestyle that New Jersey offered.

   As new drivers cruising around, we knew the full staff at our local 7-11 by name, and some even by their shifts.  A drive to the convenience store was not simply for a small coffee and the paper.  It was a hello to the store clerks and cashiers; Vinnie, Paul, Dennis, Tina, or Rowena.  The same held true with Perkins, Lighthouse, The Inkwell, and even the local police.

   “They have an outright hatred for New Yorkers.”  My N.Y. friends would readily admit to me.

   I would stick up for the Garden State.  I mentioned all the bad seeds from the Big Apple and their mistreatment of our Jersey folk. 

   “I get cursed at ALL the time!”  My Brooklyn BFF screamed at me. 

    
   This friend is not typically one to make waves, even in the ocean.  She goes about her day from work, to errand, to cooking dinner for her family, and auto-repeat the next day.  She is not quick to accuse anyone of anything.  She is quick witted, but always nice, polite-not like other aggressors that violate the toll speeds as they head leave 105.  I chuckle when she tells me that strangers give her the finger and gas station attendants ignore her. 

   “It must be your imagination.”  I’d tell her.

   Then we’d proceed with our never ending New York versus New Jersey debate.

   Many moons have passed since our teenage debates.  Married, and mother of two, I find myself living in Brooklyn and staying by my parents for the summers in New Jersey.

   My car in service for two days left me with a rental I had to pick up in New York from the dealership.  Getting off the Parkway, I inhale the clean, free, stress free love of the Garden State.   

   The turnoff from Route 36 to 35 had me merge in with other cars;  NONE allowing me lane entrance.  I blamed it on the heat, but moments later as I slowly and cautiously found room, I came across MANY, MANY angry disapproving stares.  My ride from 35 to my parent’s home gave me an assortment of fingers and honks from other drivers.

   I could not imagine what it was about the day, the temperature?  The humidity?  In my car, I could do no right!  I felt like the most unwelcome human being on the Jersey shore and couldn’t figure out the problem. 

As I pulled up to the front of my parents house and parked, I found myself sprinting for cover from fear that someone, somewhere was looking to attack.  I cursed realizing that I had things in the trunk and walked back, proceeding cautiously.  As I slowed down, I began to notice-THE LICENSE PLATES!!!

 

    In Monmouth County, I was a moving target; the dealership gave me a car with New York plates!!

   Reviewing my ride down:

I had obeyed all traffic rules on the road.

I was in no rush.

No road rage (from me).

   I did NOTHING to deserve the grueling nastiness that was thrust at me, nothing but drive a car with New York plates.

Marlboro butt, a muscle, bamboo, and crab leg say it all.

   I’ve voted, graduated high school, worked, paid taxes, served jury duty, and married-all in state of New Jersey.  I’ve tattooed my dedication to the Garden State with a 732 cell phone number and a N.J. license (which I refuse to change in the hopes that someday soon we may move back).  How have its fine inhabitants paid me back?  They judged me by the prearranged letter/number sequence on a piece of metal.  It was through this experience that I learned.  
   New Jersey is beautiful in the spring. In the summer, Jersey tomatoes and corn are a treat in any salad.  It’s a great outdoorsy experience for my kids with its clean air and gorgeous beaches, a place that my younger self will always feel a strong love and connection.   And now…...disappointment.   

   It is now a place where my adult self has learned something new about labels.  From here on:
 I will make a concentrated effort NOT to evaluate something based on just its looks or place of origin.  There will be no room for words like 'Benny' or 'Jersey hick' in my vocabulary (I've been both). 
 I will pass my love of BOTH New York and New Jersey to those around me. 
 I will address people by their actions-bad drivers are just that, bad drivers, not bad NY or NJ commuters.  There will be no GO HOME comments…not from me anyway. 
There will be no "Can't wait to get home" comments.
   I hope to enforce this new attitude soon…. 
   Just as soon as I find myself brave enough to drive a car from the Empire State in my Garden of truth.

What about you?

New Jersey and you…

Perfect Together?