By Sharon Waters
I started going to beach clubs in Sea Bright at 3 months old. I was born in February, and when the season started Memorial Day weekend, my mother hauled my two siblings and me to Sea Bright Bathing Pavilion (now Chapel Beach Club). I couldn’t even crawl, but I was there on a beach towel, covered in sunscreen. My mom made going to SBBP a priority, mostly because she wanted to be there—no doubt—but also because she wanted to instill in her children a love of the beach. I never went to camp, and our family didn’t take trips in the summer–every day was spent at the beach in Sea Bright, unless it rained.
One of our favorite family traditions happened on Labor Day. Throughout the summer, we’d “eat down” at SBBP for dinner, my mom rushing from the beach to our home in Little Silver to get the food she had already prepared, usually cold fried chicken. But every Labor Day, we ate down at SBBP for breakfast. It was the only time we ate the morning meal at the beach. Our family brought doughnuts, the Penningtons contributed hard rolls and butter (bagels weren’t a thing back then) and the Screens served orange juice and coffee. We did this every year, rain or shine, hot or cold. Then we all went to dinner at Briody’s in Rumson. Somehow, my mom had everything ready for her three children to start school the next day, even though we’d be out late. Anything to seize more moments of summer.
Labor Day is one of my favorite holidays. It signifies endings—the closing of the beach club was always the end of the summer, despite what the calendar says about autumn starting later in September. Labor Day also denotes beginnings—a new school year, different teachers, fresh chances to be better at a certain subject or sport at school. After I finished college, I tried to maintain that new-start feel of the day after Labor Day. I’m not really into resolutions, but I’ve made many more on Labor Day than New Year’s Eve.
My mother died on Sept. 4, 2022. It was a Sunday, the day before Labor Day. The hardest ending in our family was also the most earth-shifting beginning in our family, especially for my father. As we navigated our grief and made funeral plans, I made sure I got to my current beach club, Ship Ahoy, briefly the next day. I had been to the beach every Labor Day for 55 years at that point. The streak could not be broken. The tradition had to be kept.
This Labor Day, I will order a BEC (bacon, egg, cheese) on a hard roll at the Ship Ahoy snack bar, sit in a rocking chair on the porch and think about my mom. We have all sorts of ways to honor our deceased loved ones, don’t we? This is mine.
Sharon Waters is a writer living in Highlands.
