BY KATE WALTER | While I love spending summers in the family beach bungalow in Ocean County, New Jersey, I was anxious when I returned this election year. I was going back to Trump Land. It was insane during the summer of 2020 — with Trump flags and banners all over the place. Thankfully, I’d had a respite for three summers but what would it be like now?
I soon got an idea when I was walking back home from the produce stand in Lavallette, the nearest town. A woman was coming toward me wearing a T-shirt that said, “Just a regular Mom trying not to raise liberals.”
“Wow,” I muttered to myself, hoping her kids would turn out to be queer and left-wing political activists. Then I saw a jeep parked on the shoulder of Route 35, the main highway. Sticking up in the back was a big “back the blue” American flag and a now-outdated bumper sticker, “Let’s Go Brandon.”
“Let’s Go, Felon!” I called out as the jeep pulled away and I wondered how someone who supports the police could support a criminal who encouraged an insurrection. How could anyone support Trump this third time around? I forgave an old friend who voted for him the first time when she told me, “I realize now it was a big mistake.”
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Not long after I arrived down the Shore, my friend Gerry drove me over the Mantoloking Bridge to Trader Joe’s in Brick. We both did some shopping but she finished before me. As she got onto the checkout line, she said, “Take your time. I’ll be out in the car.”
When I walked to the parking lot, I couldn’t remember where she had parked, so I texted her and she replied, “It’s a black car. Look for the one with the Biden-Harris bumper sticker. It’ll be the only one.”
Gerry thought that over all there were fewer homes with Trump flags than in 2020 but that some houses overdid it with three flags. But the worst are the ones with a blown-up photo of Trump’s creepy face in the front window. I almost fell off my bike the first time I saw one display back in June.
Of course, I have friends here who are Democrats. Some of them, like Gerry, live here year-round and others are summer residents like me. Lava Java, my favorite cafe, is gay-owned and flies a Pride flag during June. And the place is always busy. But the people who are most visible are the Trump supporters shoving their flags and bumper stickers in my liberal New York face.
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After a couple of weeks here in Ocean County, I started to think I had a form of TDS — Trump Derangement Symptom. On the day of my mother’s anniversary, July 26 (she died seven years ago), we always go to Mass at the local Catholic church in Lavallette. I walked into town and was sitting outside on a bench waiting for my sister and my niece and her kids to arrive by car. As elderly churchgoers greeted me with, “Good Morning,” I wondered if they were the residents with Trump paraphernalia in front of their homes.
I’m suspicious of everyone whose politics I don’t know. I had my guard up when I overheard a lifeguard at my beach (a college kid I know and like) mention Trump. Please don’t let him be a supporter, I thought, but then I heard him joking, “Maybe we could capture a shark and bring it to him.”
Recently I was sitting on the beach on a busy weekend, talking to other homeowners in our little community. Kevin’s family has been in Ocean Beach as long as mine. (My father bought our bungalow in 1949.) Kevin asked if I was working on a new book. I was flattered that he’d read my last memoir, which has several scenes in Ocean Beach and clearly states my liberal politics.
I was also talking to Joe and his wife. I think her name is Alicia. They are both super tan and he wears a lot of gold chains. None of these neighbors ever use a beach umbrella. Aren’t they worried about skin cancer? (I had it on my face a few years ago.) Alicia remembered my mother, that she was still walking to the beach at 95 and going into the water whenever she could get someone to assist her. I tell them she is my role model.
We all live on the same street, although I’m on the ocean side and they’re on the bay side. We talk about beach club issues: the people from the next development who are always straggling over onto our beach, and how the club dues keep going up. They bring up the etiquette of the renters and how they sit in front of us on the beach when we were there first. This conversation is nothing new, but we bond over these issues.
I don’t know these people well. I don’t know where they live in the winter or what they do for a living. But what we have in common is that we all love our little beach community and feel protective of it. I like these folks and I’m enjoying our beach banter. But, at some point, I start thinking to myself: What if they’re Trump supporters? I reassure myself that at least I have not seen any signs on their homes or cars. Or maybe they are like my friend and neighbor across the street — a Never Trumper Republican and Vietnam vet who hates the fact Trump was a draft dodger.
I also feel protective of my next-door neighbors who I have known since we were all kids growing up in the 1950s. I knew their grandparents and their parents, and now three siblings own the property. They built this big splashy house after Sandy destroyed the little bungalow their grandfather built.
Michelle gave me a tour of their post-Sandy home. We’ve hung out on the beach and had pizza together. I’m quite sure she is a Democrat. She and her husband have lived in California for decades. They are nice people who let another neighbor park his monster truck in their parking lot when they’re not there. I wonder if they know that his monster truck has a cap on the dashboard that says, “Make America Great.”
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Spending summers surrounded by Trump supporters is the price I pay for inheriting a little home on this beautiful barrier island. One morning, I was on the beach earlier than usual and I was sitting near the lifeguard stand when I heard a guard say, “There it is there.”
I stood up and looked at where he was pointing. Suddenly I saw a whale, this beautiful huge creature was jumping out of the water. Twice. It really took my breath away. I have finally seen the whales that people have been talking about all summer.
The Atlantic Ocean and a beautiful beach make this my happy place. No it’s not the Hamptons (where Dems throw fundraisers) but I’m still grateful to be here. And I can spread my politics, too. I just bought a shirt that says, “We Are Not Going Back.” I plan to wear it when I go into Lavallette.
It is now August and I know this will be a long hot summer. I was cheering as I watched the first campaign rally with VP Kamala Harris and her new running mate, Tim Walz. She’s on fire and made a great choice. I’m excited. It will be interesting to see if more flags go up now.
Walter is the author of two memoirs. She is glad to live in the liberal West Village.
Great piece, Kate. I realize I’m doing the exact same thing…. I’m suspicious of everyone whose politics I don’t know. And I hate that, bc I always loved talking to strangers. Not anymore. November 6th can’t come fast enough, VOTE BLUE!!!
I was called a “Benny” by a Jersey boy I met in Long Branch, “where the Boardwalk ends” after the amusement park had been burned down by arson. We ended up dating for a year. I thought it referred to a stereotype of being seen as a rich outsider, eg, someone who was a trust fund bene-ficiary. But the racism in “America” was always present, simmering beneath the nice picturesque surface.
No one said nice people can’t be bigoted; The Jersey Shore has a thing about Jews, who they call “Bennies.” Blacks, you know what they call them, and immigrants, who they have no problem with hiring at low wages and then complain there are no jobs. They’ll go buy an 8 dollar Starbucks or a 100 dollar uber ride and say we have terrible inflation. As for Black people, White folks riot and they are okay with that, but when oppression and killings have become unbearable and Black folks riot, cool slogans appear, like “Take Back Our Country!” And when Jews come to the Shore they are “Bennies!” — it is okey to take their money but just go home after Labor Day.
Hi John, I always thought “Bennies” had a different meaning, like it meant day trippers or people who did not know beach etiquette.
The origin of the term is disputed. One common theory says the term originates from an acronym that was stamped on the beachgoers’ train tickets, representing the city in which they boarded the train to the Jersey Shore: Bergen County, Essex County, Newark and New York City. Locals often say it’s actually an acronym for the cities Bayonne, Elizabeth, Newark and New York. The term benny may also originate from the early 20th century practice of wealthy New Yorkers taking trips to the Jersey Shore as treatment for myriad maladies, such as anemia, hemophilia, and hysteria. These therapeutic trips were called “beneficials” by doctors and patients. Often, visitors would claim to be at the Jersey Shore on a “beneficial,” hence the term benny. Benny also refers to Benjamin Franklin, whose picture is on the $100 bill, a reference to tourists and spending money. Still another theory refers to offshore boat racing during the 1970s sponsored by the Benihana restaurant chain.
Great piece. I hope the Trumpsters leave you alone.
Totally agree with Duchess of NYC: Talk to others you feel may hold a different political view.
Ask them about their life experiences, backgrounds, movies, music, TV you have in common.
And check out a brilliant essay by David Brooks (NYT) on communication, “The Essential Skills for Being Human.”
It’s good that people like that label themselves so we know who they are and can avoid them.
Yes, lots of Trumpers in Joisey. Why don’t you try talking to them about why they’ve gone MAGA? I think the only way we get past this is to talk to people, who have been siloed in competing media streams for some time….
No one from NJ says Joisey. Thanks!
I agree with Robin.