November 30, 2020. Noon. Ocean Grove beachfront. Paul Goldfinger photo.

Two Neptune Police cars were parked on Ocean Avenue.   It wasn’t a fit day for anyone given the 40 mph winds and the stinging rain. The ocean was impressively rough, with layers of whitecaps.   No one dared to surf.

I got out of the car to run up for a photo. I took a few frames and then had to run back because the wind was behind me. I gripped my camera tightly under my jacket and felt momentarily that I might blow over.

Downtown most of the parking spaces were full.  I parked on Central where that sad, blue cottage was getting soaked.  Over at the hardware store they still were not allowing anyone in.  I went to the entrance where a wet hooded guy was saying to the shop keeper, “Could you bring back a few so I can check the sizes?”  Well, that was my signal to move up the block and stand in someone else’s doorway.

Finally the space was open and I got what I needed: a round, wooden toilet seat.  It reminded me of when we had a tiny house up on pilings at Long Beach Island, and in a wind, the seat would rock while it was occupied.  The kids loved it.

It almost was like when our whole house shook during Sandy in Ocean Grove.

JUNE CARTER CASH    “The Storms Are On the Ocean.”  From her album Wildwood Flower.

“The storms are on the ocean
The heavens may cease to be
This world may lose its motion love
If I prove false to thee.”