Life isn’t measured by the computers I’ve built or the servers I’ve managed. It’s measured by the people I’ve known, the places I’ve called home, the mistakes I’ve made, and the stories I’ve collected along the way. From growing up in Ocean City and life at the Jersey Shore to surfing, old trucks, computers, house parties, family, friendships, and a career in technology, these are the stories that made me who I am.
Some are funny. Some are nostalgic. Some probably seemed completely ordinary when they happened. Together, they’re my life.log.
Ocean City finished a $19.5 million beach replenishment project in September 2026. Thirty-nine days later, New Jersey requested federal assistance for storm-damaged beaches. After living in Ocean City for 40 years, I have some questions about who pays for our beaches and whether the expense ever ends.
community, and his family’s experience navigating the school system. What does transparency really mean when parents need answers?
Explore the fascinating history of the Flanders Hotel in Ocean City, New Jersey, from Prohibition-era speakeasies and the ghost of Emily to famous guests and hidden Catacombs. Along the way, I share personal memories of working as a banquet waiter at this historic Boardwalk landmark during the Kirkman and Dwyer years.
From 55th Street to Second Street and back again, I spent forty years living in Ocean City, New Jersey. These are the homes, people, and memories that shaped my life on the island, from 1984 until October 2024.
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As a kid, I wanted to become a magician and perform on a real stage at least once. After summers working in an Ocean City Boardwalk magic shop, kids’ shows, restaurant magic, and some very different tricks in bars, I finally got that stage at First Night.
I spent forty years living in Ocean City, New Jersey, and only evacuated for two storms: Gloria and Sandy. Most of the others I experienced firsthand, walking empty streets in wind, rain and snow, surfing hurricane swells and eventually making my way to the beach to watch the Atlantic.
I set up the portable bar at Flanders banquets, where guests brought the alcohol and hired a bartender. That experience helps explain the difference between private events and alcohol sales in Ocean City.
The collapsing wall beneath Wonderland Pier and the threatened Ferris wheel are symbols of something Ocean City ignored for decades: a community changed one property, one exception and one profitable decision at a time.
One quiet September afternoon, my teenage cat Mags followed me down 55th Street to the beach, waited while I surfed, and joined me for a dollar hot dog on the walk home. At the time, it was simply another day. Looking back, it represents how uncomplicated life once felt.
I moved to Ocean City when I was twelve and left forty years later. Somewhere between 1984 and 2024 were house parties, friends, family, the Boardwalk, the Chatterbox, disappearing old houses and an island that slowly became a different kind of hometown.