This is a tale of two cities.
Actually, two towns. Beach towns, to be specific. At least one of them still strikes me as a town. The other these days strikes me more as a city. And that's part of my problem.
I've always been a Rehoboth guy. Yes, I went to the beach, which is how we always referred to our jaunts to southern Delaware, as opposed to going "down the shore," as most folks always refer to the Jersey coast.
There was a time when that Delaware drive was quite the ordeal, traveling through tiny burgs like Smyrna, Odessa and the state capital of Dover.
I distinctly remember my wife, who was a Jersey shore devotee, getting increasingly antsy the first time we made the drive to Rehoboth. As we meandered along, she finally jabbed her elbow into my stomach and wondered aloud, "Where the hell are we going?"
I thought I'd give her the good news first.
"We're almost in Dover," I informed her. The bad news? Well, that means we only have another hour and a half to go.
When we finally arrived in Rehoboth, her eyes had glazed over. I actually think she was in disbelief realizing that this was a day trip, and that we would be making that same drive back home in just a few hours.
Of course, all of that was before the Route 1 Expressway. Today, it takes me almost as long to get from my house to I-95 in Delaware, which I take to get to Route 1 and those beauteous signs that proclaims the path to the "Delaware beaches," as it does to get from there to the sand in front of Dolle's.
But that's part of the problem.
Traveling through all those little towns along Route 13 would eventually deposit you in the quaint little town of Rehoboth.
Rehoboth is not a little town anymore. It's more like a city.
That feeling starts long before you actually get into Rehoboth. I remember when there was almost nothing except the movie theater out on Route 1 before you reached something of Nirvana, that would be the light where you would turn left to go onto Rehoboth Avenue and entree to beach heaven. Actually, I even used to cheat at this, knowing there was usually a line to take that left, I would go up a block and circle back around the old water tower that only insiders would know about.
Now Rehoboth stretches almost non-stop along both sides of the road to Lewes. There are outlets, more restaurants than you can ever visit, including some that have relocated that used to be in town, and amusements galore. It's easy to most the Midway theatre that used to stand nearly alone out on that stretch.
Part of the problem is that I pine for the Rehoboth of my youth. The truth is that's gone. My kids still don't believe me when I tell them I can remember when Grotto Pizza was little more than a takeout window on Rehoboth Avenue. It's still the "legendary taste," (I still think that distinctive tang has something to do with the cheese), but it is now part of pizza empire.
That's kind of what has happened to everything in Rehoboth. Everything seems to be bigger.
On our recent visit, the town was packed, the beaches even more so. Granted we were beaching in town, not on the outside edges at the end of the boardwalk as my family did for years.
In short, I felt cramped.
And I wasn't the only one.
I was stunned when I got home to find a story online in the Wilmington News Journal that wondered much the same thing.
My wife and I were left to compare it with our earlier trip this summer to Cape May. It pains me to say it, but Cape May struck me as a much more relaxing atmosphere. Granted, it was earlier in the season, not prime time. But Cape May seems intent on holding onto its quaint tradition, including all those gorgeous old Victorian homes.
In Rehoboth, the seem intent on knocking down most of the old homes and building palatial new beach estates.
One thing remains the same. I've said it before and will say it again. Rehoboth is likely one of the few recession-proof towns in America. I'd love to have the money that goes through that place in a day. When there is a line waiting for the Royal Treat to open for breakfast at 8 a.m., you know business is good.
I likely will continue to visit Rehoboth every year. It's in my blood. But I am guessing I will continue to yearn for the town where I grew up, where I made those endless day-trips every summer.
Those days are likely gone forever.
But we'll always have Thrasher's. Pass the vinegar.
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