A Love Note to My Hometown

Today, I’m paying homage to Dover, New Jersey — the town that built me, taught me to hustle, and gave me my “Jersey Girl” edge.

This one’s for you, Dover!

There’s something special about the towns that raised us — their streets, their sounds, their scents — those places where our childhood memories are tucked away like cherished old Polaroids.

For me, that town is Dover, New Jersey.

Summers there were all about the smell of fresh-cut grass and BBQs, with weekends filled with simple, perfect little adventures.

Dover is where I experienced my first kiss while frolicking in the fallen autumn leaves, where my bestie taught me to drive a stick (THANKS, PAT!), where I played hooky a few times with friends during the day, and skinny-dipped under the moonlight at “The Mines” in nearby Mine Hill.

Dover had a special charm in the green woodsy corners of Hedden Park, where my family and I would hop from rock to rock along the stream like adventurous explorers. Or at the Water Works, where summer recreation meant making potholders and giggling about which boys were the cutest.

Dover was close to the action, too!

Just a short ride to the Jersey Shore, with Sandy Hook being the closest — they even had a “secret” nude beach, which I’m sure isn’t a secret any longer. (I never went there, but as teens, we drove by for a glance — right Cheryl?).

It was also easy to hop on a Lakeland Bus for a quick escape to New York— a little taste of excitement only 31 miles away. I mean, it’s MANHATTAN, after all!

On sunny summer days, we’d make our way to Bertrand’s Island Amusement Park, a place full of laughter, carnival rides, and the sweet smell of cotton candy. I loved the fortune teller machine, the Tilt-a-Whirl, and those messy spin paintings — such colorful, one-of-a-kind little masterpieces.

When we weren’t at the park, you’d find us over at Lake Hopatcong, swimming until our fingers turned wrinkly and the sky filled with soft pink and orange hues.

Back at home, we’d race our bikes through the neighborhood, feeling like daredevils as we sped past familiar houses, the wind in our hair, shouting hellos to every friendly face we passed.

A playing card clipped to the spokes? Instant Evel Knievel vibes!

Big thanks to the Dover Record Shop — you probably got most of my allowance, but it was so worth it! Flipping through vinyl and walking out with THE new album made me feel like the coolest kid ever. Those were the best moments.

And who could forget those tiny candy shops where you’d walk out with a sugar haul big enough to make your dentist cry? Looking at you, Charleston Chews — keeping teeth on the edge since forever!

And let’s not forget Baker Theatre — where blockbuster movies played on the big screen once the huge velvet curtains parted. Sitting in those familiar seats felt like home. It was more than a movie night; it was an experience — a piece of childhood wrapped in buttery popcorn and chocolate bars.

It was MAGIC!

Dover wasn’t just a town; it was a feeling. It was the hum of a summer night, that first bite of a hot, gooey slice of ‘za from Dover Pizza, the taste of cherry Coke, and the soundtrack of laughter with friends.

Some places live in your bones, and for me, Dover is one of them.

And even now, no matter how far I go, a part of me is always there, walking those streets, flipping through records, and chasing lightning bugs in the warm Jersey air.

It was all so simple, yet so full of life.

Memories that are like little nuggets of gold.

Thank you, Dover.

If you stop by, please give it a WAVE from me!