Jerzy Boyz(Gerald R Gioglio) “New Jersey people, they will surprise you.” -John Gorka-

Shortly after arriving in Colorado, and sharing my story with a neighbor, he told me, “Now that you live in the foothills of the Front Range the closest thing you have to a beach is your bathtub.” Sigh… But, if you come from Jersey, with its easy access to 130 miles of white sand, this ain’t getting it done—no beach or the feel of sand between your toes, no sea shells, waves or the smell of salty air, no boardwalk, no squawking seagulls and definitely no ‘body surfing’ in your bathtub. Sigh….

Happily, Kate, that Jersey Girl wife of mine, completely understands my angst—even as she reminds me, we escaped periodic coastal hurricanes like Superstorm Sandy by going from a 7-foot elevation to living at 6,600 feet. So, yeah, even though I miss all of the above, plus the sunsets over Barnegat Bay and leisurely walks through the surf, these days I can snark out by barking, “Atlantic Ocean, make my day.”

Still, once or twice a year my wife shuffles me off somewhere for a periodic beach fix. This could be San Diego, other beaches in California, a rare visit to Aruba, or most likely to one of the beaches in Mexico. Yep, she’s #1 that wife of mine.

Before Covid shut down the world, we frequently visited a resort near Puerto Vallarta. Bordered by the Rio Ameca and Banderas Bay, there is ample beach footage, lots of pools and all sorts of amenities. It’s a pretty special vacation destination for middle-class American and Mexican visitors. Here, guests walk to the beach or pools and there is tram service available to shuttle folks to various restaurants and shopping areas on the grounds.

One day, needing supplies from the resort’s marketplace, I went to the tram stop outside our villa. As usual, the weather was beautiful, hot with a slight breeze. I was casually dressed-down in bathing suit and sandals, sporting a gray T-shirt with the word ‘Rutgers’ emblazed in red on the front.

Most folks see this shirt and ask how the University’s basketball or football team did that particular year. I have to disappoint them saying I’m not promoting the teams, just feeling proud of the State and feeling close to my Alma Mater. Look, as a man once told me: “you can take the boy out of Jersey but you can’t take Jersey out of the boy.”

I'm standing there waiting for the tram when I notice a young man glaring at my shirt. Picture this, he's several inches taller than me and in great shape. He had a military-style, ‘high and tight’ haircut, wore a ‘Guinea Tee’ and showcased lots of ink on his Popeye-like, muscle-bound arms. Bottom line: shoulders to fingers this dude was covered in tattoos. Taking a quick survey, I note a number of women’s names followed by a trail of multicolored teardrops and all sorts of mysterious symbols, Celtic crosses, knots and dragons. Yep, this was one scary-looking dude.

Suddenly, he points a tattooed digit at me and bellows, “Hey, you from Jersey?” I’m thinking to myself, “Do I really want to get into it with this guy?” Ignoring my intuition, and throwing caution to the wind I replied, “Ahhhh…yeah! You?” Suddenly, he launches into an upper New Jersey nasal, one that features a little bit of ‘New Yawk’ inflection, along with phrases and slang I immediately, yet subconsciously recognize. The ‘fight or flight’ impulses faded as I went with the flow and just had to engage.

Listen, sometimes folks don’t know they speak with an accent, often the one they grew up with. The words and colloquialisms come out automatically; its innate and spontaneous. I was one of those people. But really, who knew?

Back in a day, arriving at Fort Dix at age 20, I found myself surrounded by young New Jerseyans from all over the state who seemed to speak with different inflections. Over time, I came to the very unscientific conclusion there were three different, geographically-based accents in the State.

For example, many New Yorkers who moved from the Big Apple and neighboring environs to the Northeast counties of New Jersey conversed with a Brooklyn timbre. Think: ‘Tirdie-Tird Street.’

Folks like me growing up in the middle of the state--West to the Upper Shores of the Jersey coast-- exhibit very discernable nasal articulations. Lots of ‘dis’ and ‘dat’s, along with expressions like, “Wha,’ you gotta’ problem?”

Finally, I observed a very distinct accent among the young men who came from Southern New Jersey. This one had roots from a Pennsylvania Dutch and Quaker farming legacy, one relaxed and deliberate, a little bit country, a little bit Jersey snark. Indeed, with some of the State actually below the Mason-Dixon Line I did sometimes hear a bit of southern drawl in the phrasing.

Nevertheless, despite these differences among Jersey folks, we all pretty much share colloquialisms unique to the State. I’m talking Jersey Style bro’--being in a Jersey state of mind. You know wha’ I’m sayin’?

So, you can understand how quickly I fell into my dialect on a sunny day in Mexico, confronted by a menacing-looking guy I slowly came to accept as one of ‘my peeps.’ He talked about himself, his Bergen-county neighborhood, and his experiences. I played along, enjoying the rapport; then sharing some of my story said: “Yeah, I grew up in Brunswick and for 13 years lived Doun Thuh Shoor, off Exit 82, you know, towards Seaside…went there a lot to walk da’ boards and grab some tuh-mey-toe-pawy.” He admitted he enjoyed being a ‘Bennie’ and when he hit the boards always grabbed sausage-peppers and onions on a torpedo roll along with a bag of salt water taffy. My man.

In a conversation that lasted several minutes, we talked Bruce;” Yeah, I saw him at the Ledge in Brunswick, in the late 60’s; before Bruce became B-R-U-U-U-C-E; you know?” We cracked-up over watching the Sopranos, recommended favorite diners and places to get good bagels, Pork-roll, Egg and Cheese, and well, all things Jersey.

As my tram approached, we reached out to shake hands, exchanged pleasantries and warm good-byes. Once again, he looks me in the eye, points a tattooed finger and underscoring the importance of the interaction for both of us says, “You even talk right, I don't get that much!”


Key:

Bennie Nonresidents who travel to the Jersey Shore to enjoy the benefits
Bruce Bruce Springsteen
Brunswick New Brunswick (aka The Hub City)
Doun Thuh Shoor Down the Shore (Go to, or being at, the beach)
Exit 82: An Upper Shore Exit off the Garden State Parkway
The Ledge A student gathering place at Rutgers University, New Brunswick
My Peeps My People, family or friends
Seaside Seaside Park or Seaside Heights, popular beachfront resort towns
Tirdie-Tird Thirty-third
tuh-mey-toe-pawy Tomato Pie, aka Pizza
Walk da’ boards Stroll the boardwalk, eat, drink, play games, take rides.

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