Imagine riding a bike upside down ... with barely a strap to keep you from falling on the street. That's what the Loop-O-Plane felt like, a zippy ride that turned in ovals - and all that kept it running was an old motor with something that looked like a bicycle chain pulling through it. First it was in Point Pleasant Beach, the scariest of all the scary, stitched-together rides at the now defunct Herman's Amusements on the Boardwalk. When Herman's disappeared in 1987, I thought the ride would, too. When I worked at Herman's in the early 1980s, we kept this ride together with practically tape …

Before my eyes was the man who always cut my hair, ready to chop away again, and give me the news about town that no newspaper ever could. Jack Pasola was still clipping away Wednesday morning, after decades of doing this, even if many of his customers are all gray now, including me. Or they just have a few strands left that Pasola, a former Point Beach mayor, nips off with the ends of his scissors and does the best he can to comb over their scalps. He'll spend the time he would have spent chopping off clumps of somebody's thick mop - the time he used to spend when everybody had long hair in …

Sunny skies helped tourists enjoy the 60-degree temperatures on the Point Pleasant Beach Boardwalk this Easter weekend. It was also the day of the annual Easter Parade, sponsored by the Point Pleasant Beach Chamber of Commerce. Many were also there for the annual half-off sale on tickets, but they also appreciated the fact that they had a spring-like day at the summer resort. At St. Peter's, St. Martha's and the Point Presbyterian Church, among others, religious observances marked the high holy day.

I once dreamed of being a war journalist, a guy who dodged bombs in Beirut, barely avoiding capture. Or I could have been a Washington D.C. guy, shouting questions over the tired press corps, showing them how much better - or louder - I was than the rest of them. I got a taste of all that, traveling with an Air Force unit during the Afghanistan war in 2001; and, earlier, being among the first to reveal the twisted, molten remains of the World Trade Center that were temporarily stored at a Staten Island landfill, just a month after 9-11. In the end, however, what really mattered to me was what…

Growing up, I wanted to be the greatest at whatever I did, the guy who'd rise above the troubles of my family. I wanted to become the Muhammad Ali, even the Whitney Houston, in my corner of the world.I wanted to be the best runner, the best baseball player, the best surfer, even if I couldn't swim until I was 8. I grew up at the Jersey Shore but, for so many years, I was too afraid to swim in water that went over my head.I wanted to be the best writer, even as my college roommate at Rutgers made fun of it, calling it "a bad imitation of Shakespeare." I wanted to be a musician, even if I didn'…

The voices are getting louder now. They're getting louder than the thunderous waves that crash on the beaches of Manasquan, Long Branch, Point Pleasant and Seaside Heights in the middle of a Nor'easter. They're louder than the voices on that MTV show that co-opted the Jersey Shore name. Seven dead in three years. At least three of them were suicides. From 2008 to 2009, four Manasquan High School students - or recent graduates at the time - were hit and killed by NJ Transit trains. Now Wednesday, when a teenager from Spring Lake Heights died after he was hit by a train. He apparently made no …

The first football player I ever liked was a quarterback who got sacked all the time. Every year, his New York Giant teams lost more than they won. Every game, he got battered, booed-at and berated, tossed-around, tackled and "turfed." Every snap, he was there, ready to give it another try, preparing himself for another heap of abuse. His name was Phil Simms, and guys with 300-pound Herculean bodies mauled his protectors and threw themselves on his blindslide. The QB would lift himself from the rock-hard artificial turf, his shoulder pad popped out of his sleeve, and his helmet slightly askew…

Once they were boys who liked to ride bikes, read books and go to the beach in Seaside Park and elsewhere. Then, so quickly, they became men carrying guns, finding themselves in harm's way. Too soon, they were gone, their lives ended in wars that never seemed to end. At least 12 soldiers from Ocean County have died since the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks. On Veterans Day, Patch remembers Jersey Shore residents who died in war this year. Here are three of their stories. Sgt. John A. Lyons, Seaside Park, Oct. 26 Berkeley Township Patrolman Richard Breitenbach rose early Thursday and began the trip to …

Some come in, wearing well-pressed jackets and ties, looking like they don't have a worry in the world. They shake my hand and smile. Then they tell their story, their stories of broken families and lost jobs, and frown. Along the way, they may try to force a smile out, and clench their teeth. But they can only fake it for so long. Others wear flannel shirts hanging out of their pants, with deep lines in their faces, showing the wear and tear of their lives. They force a smile, too, but the storyline is the same: failed relationships, layoffs and loss. Everywhere I've talked about my book, "A…

We've heard it for years. "We're not connecting with our readers!" "They're not reading us!" "They're only interested in the comics and the baseball standings!" At my old jobs, the editors and reporters tried everything. Focus groups were formed. Town-hall meetings were set up. But all that did was just confirm our suspicions. "There's nothing in there for me" ... "Why did you reduce the comics section?" The only thing that showed any signs of success was this: Getting readers involved themselves. For years, the only outlet the reader had was the "Letters to the Editor" section, if they were …

For months, the pile was still smoldering. The signs looking for the missing still hung, even though there was no hope. At home, all we could do was just worry and wait, hoping somebody would emerge from the "pile," and say that they were safe and alive. No one ever came out. No one, not even Brett Bailey, a Brick resident who was a lifeguard turned broker. Lifeguards know something about survival and saving others. But so many like Brett couldn't withstand the planes, the burning fuel, the collapsing towers and the dust that spread through New York City blocks. As a reporter, I rode with …

The on-and-off rain and cloudy skies kept some away early Saturday. But locals and tourists took advantage of the smaller crowds and enjoyed the fare at Jenkinson's in Point Pleasant Beach. Many were there for the annual half-off sale on tickets, but they also appreciated the fact that they were almost always at the head of every line at Jenkinson's rides.

The trains scream by every half hour or so, stopping for nothing. Along the North Jersey Coast Line, the only life that usually lingers are the squirrels, the raccoons and, occasionally, the homeless. The latter digs ditches in the scrub brush, and finds refuge from the tough world under piles of cardboard. Recently, others have begun to share their space, daring or desperate enough to be in their dark, cavernous zones of mostly silence. High school students and graduates from Manasquan and, lately, Long Branch have treated the rails as a place to live and linger. Some are daring, sojourning …

The choppy waves crashed on the sand, pushed by the hard wind and rain. The sky was a thick gray, hovering over a deserted, dusty beach. But as I sat in my car on Thursday, watching it all pound on the surf, pulling the sand away, I could see my mother's smile, rising above the tide. When I was young, we came here, to Manasquan, because it was the best place to go. We came here, because it was simple and serene. We came here, even when it was crowded. In Manasquan, for whatever reason, there was always enough space for a blanket and a few chairs. The sand felt soft and natural. Gee Gee's had …

Jack Watson never wanted anything to be merely ordinary - even if it was an ordinary old school club. When he took over the Key Club at Point Boro High School some 40 years ago, he wanted it to do more than hold cake sales or roll cotton candy at the Seafood Fest. Watson was known to be modest, so he would never put down anybody who did the car washes and the tricky-trays. It's just that, well, Jack, always wanted more. Watson, 78, who died Feb. 28 at his Point Beach home, helped turn the Point Boro Key Club - which was affiliated with the Kiwanis organization - into one of the most …

They've seen people die. That's what happens when you're a police officer. You see the worst of things. Or so you think, until another surprise comes your way. Few officers see one of their own die - not on duty. Never, some said, did they think this could happen here. Never did they think it could happen to a guy like Chris Matlosz. He was a guy with a fiancee, a graduate of Howell High School in 2001. He had a Facebook page, with pictures. He was a cop who was friendly, and a friend to many. But there they were, lined up deep into the parking lot of the Lakewood Funeral Home, hundreds of …

Sometimes post-traumatic-stress disorder can take years to manifest itself. For Darren DeGraw, my Point Pleasant Boro High School classmate from 1985, it took 11.Darren was 39 when he died in 2006 in Lake Worth, Fla., of possible heart failure, according to The Princeton Packet. But what happened in 1995, shortly after joining the Manville, N.J. police force, may have been what ultimately did him in. Darren, who had also lived in Barnegat, resigned on June 30, 2005 from the Manville force because of the PTSD he suffered from following a 1995 shooting, his ex-wife, Donna DeGraw, once told The …

Is the snow season really the happiest season of all? "Sara C." said she didn't get a Brick plow until 10:30 p.m. Tuesday. The snow fell on Sunday. Her husband missed three days of work because he was too busy clearing it all out. "What do we pay taxes for?" she wrote. "No one cares about the people who live behind the 7-Eleven off of Chambersbridge Road in Brick." "Kelly," another Brick resident, said she had to walk through four feet of snow drifts to be picked up for work on Midstreams Road. "I saw a plow on the next street over on a plowed road - I begged him to go one street over and …

Just four years into my career, I already thought reporting was boring. I was a guy with a writing pedigree who broke big stuff while working as a top editor at the Rutgers University paper, The Daily Targum. My girlfriend liked my writing so much that she'd sit in my New Brunswick apartment and read my stories aloud. I hated it when she did that. But I guess she saw something in the cadence and rhythm of the language that was envigorating, because I sure didn't. I was always a little too shy to accept my own attributes. Out of college, I worked two-plus-years at a small daily in Delaware, …

Back in the 1980s, at Rutgers, I was the Jersey Shore kid. I was asked so many questions about it that I sometimes thought I was the only Jersey Shore kid. My answers, however, were always so lame. I never had an exciting story to tell. What I had to offer was always more goofy than glamorous. Ultimately, everybody probably thought I was the only Jersey Shore kid who was dull. "You're from the Point Pleasant?" they'd say. "Do you surf?" "Sure," I'd say. "Poorly." "Wow, but, you live at the Shore," they'd say. "You must have a lot of money." "Well, no," I said. "My father had to work as a …