New Jersey and You (and me)

A little love note to my state

Earlier this week, the New Jersey Pine Barrens, the place where I grew up, started burning.

A lot of people think of New Jersey as nothing but wastelands and toxic dumps (and, sure, we do lead the country in Superfund sites), but that’s not all we are. We also grow more than half of the world’s eggplants! (Where oh where is the tourism campaign based on this fact?)

We are, after all, the Garden State, though it has nothing to do with eggplants… or peaches (hilariously enough, also one of our top crops). Instead the Garden State moniker comes from New Jersey’s acres and acres of spooky-strange scraggly pines and sandy soil known as the Pine Barrens. And though I live in a different part of the state now, I’m still kind of obsessed with this bleakly named area from my past (because, well, aren’t we all a little obsessed with the territories of our childhoods?)

If you are one of those people who thinks of New Jersey in terms of smokestacks and diesel fumes rather than forests and seashores, allow me to paint a different portrait of my childhood home.

Where I grew up, the locals call themselves “Pineys,” and the kids torment each other with tales of the Jersey Devil. Where I grew up, though not far from New York City and Philadelphia, you’ll still hear the occasional person call a “creek” a “crick.” Where I grew up, the air smells of pine needles and ocean breezes and freshwater lakes tinged brown from fallen cedar. Where I grew up there are hidden places, haunted places, cursed places, “Weird New Jersey” places. And this week where I grew up is smoke.

I’m actually far from New Jersey as I write this post, on a trip to a different part of the country, where people keep commenting that they are surprised that New Jersey even has forests to burn.

I like to think the Jersey Devil would be amused by that assumption.

I also like to think that the Jersey Devil would get a kick out of a story I published in The Cincinnati Review called “Checking on the Devil.” It’s about the titular devil and junk food and professional hockey, but also about organized religion and values and elitism. And it’s meant to be every bit as irreverent and tongue-in-cheek as my fellow New Jerseyeans. In light of the news this week, it felt like a good time to share some of that irreverence:

[You can also hear me read the story aloud at this link (and read the Managing Editor’s remarks about my story, too. Probably my favorite ever comment about something I wrote and certainly the only time I will ever be compared to John Milton!)]

And now for more New Jersey inspired links:

[Why yes, that is Brooke Shields hawking for New Jersey back in the 1980s.]

-For a visually stunning look at everyday life in the state circa 1975, check out this New Yorker article about the time legendary photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson was given the chance to make any place in America his artistic subject, and he chose the Garden State. When asked about his surprising choice, Cartier-Bresson’s response was, “Why New Jersey? Because people make such a funny face when you mention New Jersey.”

(Where oh where is the tourism campaign based on this quote?)

Cartier-Bresson thought of New Jersey as a kind of “shortcut through America,” and as a person who has lived there all my life, I can’t agree more. Another tourism campaign idea: New Jersey, we contain multitudes. (Guys, forget writing Substack posts. I think my calling is in Jersey tourism.)

The photographs in this article about Cartier-Bresson’s trip are tremendous, as is the meditation on the “anywhere-ness” of this small state.

[from the New Yorker article courtesy of The Henri Cartier-Bresson Foundation / Magnum]

-And finally, I’m so very proud to share a song released this week by my all-time favorite New Jersey songwriter, aka my son. This track, called “Zero Degrees,” pulls on all my heartstrings. I hope it does the same for you.

Give it a listen on any streaming service (and follow Julian on IG at tunesofjdutemple.) And tell me who your favorite New Jersey artist is.

[This is the time. This is the place.]

XOXO from the Eggplant Capital of the World and the home of Bruce Springsteen, Tony Soprano, The Jersey Devil, and my heart.

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