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I thought the Atlantic would be a good place to scatter some of my mother’s ashes because she felt the most freedom in her life when she was swimming. But when Jeff and I reached the end of the pier, we realized we were standing over sand, not water. Two women sat on a bench behind us complaining about their children. This wasn’t the right place, not this time. I remembered the morning before we left Pittsburgh, how carefully Jeff had packed her into the pocket of my camera bag; I wanted to crush him to me. This year has been so long and painful – so difficult, at times, it doesn’t feel real when I keep going. I don’t know how I would have managed without his bravery and love.
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Deserted streets in Wildwood on a Tuesday morning gave me a chance to put my camera on the ground, tilted up to capture the above shot. Earlier in our trip, we walked side streets to see what secrets we could find on our way back to the Gondolier. We spotted bright pink striped awnings promising fudge and macaroons behind its doors. We stocked up on mint chocolates and Turkish Taffy instead, laughing about the two of us being the youngest people staying at our motel, and the old woman we left by the pool who looked just like Don Rickles. We talked about how long this year has been. We traded stories, walked miles without a plan.
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armada motel
We were running late to Wildwood, and the motel where we planned to stay kept calling us, making sure we’d get there before 10 pm so that they could close the office for the night. We drove around searching for a place to eat dinner, me hanging halfway out of the car window with my camera because I fell in love with every single sign on Ocean Avenue and a photo was the only way I could take them home with me. The streets were empty except for us. I jumped out of the car and stood in the Waikiki parking lot, listening to the sounds around me – so quiet you could hear the faint crash of ocean waves, a chorus of crickets, the click of a traffic light, the hum of a neon sign floating above me.
astronaut motel
bel air motel
white star motel
ocean avenue
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Filed under: New Jersey | Tags: boardwalk, polaroid, time travel, wildwood crest
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What if our afternoon on the boardwalk didn’t exist? What if shop owners rolling open their storefronts for the late-September day, the whir of claw machines grabbing dingy stuffed toys out of their glass boxes, the smell of burnt mozzarella and cheese steaks vying with the salty ocean air - what if it was our imaginations? A large bearded man moved from bench to bench, seeming to follow us. I caught his reflection in the outside mirror of a photo booth, and as I moved to get my camera to capture him, he was gone.
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For an early anniversary present, he gave me a misty, empty beach. The morning sky was gray, like black and white film, and the ground covered in a slow, rolling fog. The tide was very low and it felt like a mile before we actually reached the water’s edge. We planned to walk along the beach for just a little while then go back to our motel, but we spotted the roller coaster in the distance and that became our goal. We weren’t leaving until we could stand next to its vast skeletal maze. It is a gift to spend mornings in silence together, lost in the mysteries of the sea.
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Filed under: New Jersey | Tags: arcade, boardwalk, fortune teller, wildwood crest
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Filed under: New Jersey | Tags: beach, motel, polaroid, vintage signs, wildwood crest
sea ray motel
Do you ever look at photo of a place and fall in love? It happened for me this time with Wildwood, when an old friend from high school mentioned how I’d love the vintage motels there. I already had photo ideas stirring in my brain before I even hit sand this past weekend. The place is a sea of beautiful, neon signs, one more kitschy and architecturally breathtaking than the next. And I was fortunate enough to receive a gift of precious, expired Polaroid film from my friend Juli, a photographer who creates stunning Polaroids. Instant film is such a scarce commodity now, so this photographic journey was an exercise in restraint, in making careful subject and composition choices. It helped me to slow my pace, to not look back once I pressed the button, and to let go.
king's inn motel
monaco motel
beach colony motel
