Living in Ocean City NJ: Forty Years, One Island, and a Dozen Homes
Homes I Lived in Ocean City NJ: Starting at 115 South Inlet
Ocean City has a history that stretches back long before I arrived in 1984. The Ocean City Historical Museum preserves much of that history, including the early development of the town, its Boardwalk, and the people who helped shape the island. My story covers a much smaller part of that history, but one I was fortunate enough to experience firsthand.
Living in Ocean City NJ for forty years gave me a rather unusual collection of addresses. From 1984 until October 2024, I moved from one end of the island to the other, living in condominiums, apartments, rental houses, a converted garage, and a small cottage.
I started at the south end, around 55th Street, gradually worked my way north to Second Street, and eventually headed south again. By the time I left Ocean City, I was living in the same condominium complex where my life on the island had begun
Looking back, I find it interesting how easily I can divide those forty years by the homes I lived in. Each address represents a different period of my life, different people, different jobs, and experiences that I probably wouldn’t remember quite as clearly without associating them with a particular house.
None of those homes was particularly large. In fact, every place we lived in Ocean City was 1,350 square feet or smaller.
Some were barely big enough for two people, let alone a family. But we made them work.
And somewhere along the way, I grew up, met my wife, bought my first home, became a father, raised two children, and watched Ocean City change around me.
1984: 115 South Inlet, Where It All Began
My first Ocean City home was a condominium at 115 South Inlet, near 55th Street, where I lived with my mother and grandparents.
We moved there in 1984.
At the time, the south end was simply home. I had no reason to think that I would spend the next forty years moving around the island, much less that I would eventually return to the very same condominium complex.
The South Inlet property would remain connected to my family for decades. As it turned out, it would be both the beginning and the end of my years as an Ocean City resident.
But before that happened, there were quite a few other addresses.
136 Clipper Drive: Skateboards, Friends, and the Thomsons
Our next home was at 136 Clipper Drive, Off 52nd Street. My mother rented the property, and it was here that we met the Thomson family.
Joe and Lynn Thomson moved into the downstairs unit with their children. There were two boys, Joey and Tommy, and two daughters, one of whom passed away very young. The other was Christian, although I don’t remember whether I’m spelling her name correctly.
I was around fourteen when we became friends. The boys were a little younger, and we spent time together doing what kids did in those days.
I built a quarter-pipe skateboard ramp behind the house.
Apparently, I wouldn’t let Joey or Tommy ride it.
I have no idea why. My memory of the whole thing is a little fuzzy, but Tommy certainly remembers it. I suppose that tells you something about how fair I was when it came to sharing my skateboard ramp.
The Thomsons became part of our lives, and our families remained connected long after those childhood days on Clipper Drive.
Unfortunately, some of those relationships would become complicated later in life.
But back then, we were just kids growing up at the south end of Ocean City.
115 Brigantine Drive: Dinner, Music, and a Little Romance
Our next stop was 115 Brigantine Drive, still in the 52nd Street area of Ocean City.
I had built a table in wood shop, but it wasn’t your typical dining room table. It sat close to the floor, so instead of chairs, we sat on pillows while eating.
I also had a huge 55-gallon fish tank, which provided some pretty nice lighting in the room.
Before Kendra came along, I occasionally invited a lady over for dinner. I would do the cooking, serve the food, put on some low music, and let the glow from the fish tank provide the atmosphere.
Picture it. A homemade low table, pillows on the floor, soft music, a glowing aquarium, and some of my finest cooking.
Man, did that work.
I apparently knew a thing or two about setting the mood, even if I didn’t have much money to spend on fancy furniture.
Eventually, Kendra came along in 1993, and she became the last lady to enjoy dinner at that table.
More than thirty years later, I wouldn’t change that for anything.
1993: Kendra and 200 Central Avenue
Kendra and I met in 1993.
She lived in a first-floor rental at 200 Central Avenue, and I spent an enormous amount of time there.
And when I say an enormous amount, I mean it.
Her rental was essentially one room. Looking back, it’s hard to imagine how we spent so much time in such a small space, but we did.
It was cozy, to put it mildly.
We weren’t thinking about square footage, property values, or where we might eventually settle down. We were young, spending time together, and figuring out who we where as a couple.
That little rental became the starting point of a relationship that has now lasted more than thirty years.
It certainly wasn’t much of a house, but it was enough at the time.
418 Ocean Avenue: Magic Tricks and Freshwater Bass
Eventually, we moved to 418 Ocean Avenue.
This address stands out because it was where I began seriously practicing magic.
I spent a great deal of time learning sleight of hand, practicing card and coin tricks, and working through routines that I would eventually perform for other people.
Magic had interested me since childhood, and during the 1990s I finally reached the point where I was performing in front of audiences. Some of my favorite tricks involved cups and balls, coins, cigarettes, and the occasional routine that probably wouldn’t be appropriate for every audience.
I even performed at Ocean City’s First Night celebration.
But magic wasn’t my only interest at 418 Ocean Avenue.
I was also reading everything I could get my hands on about freshwater bass fishing.
Yes, freshwater fishing.
Here I was, living on a barrier island surrounded by salt water, studying largemouth bass and imagining that I might someday compete professionally on the bass fishing tour.
I learned about fishing conditions, weather patterns, and how changes in barometric pressure could affect the behavior of fish. I can still explain quite a bit of it today.
For some reason, I had convinced myself that professional bass fishing might be in my future.
That never happened.
Magic, on the other hand, became something I actually did, and those years of practice at Ocean Avenue helped make it possible.
1343 Central Avenue: Kendra Leaves for Arizona
Another address along the way was 1343 Central Avenue.
This home marked a difficult period in my relationship with Kendra.
In the summer of 1997, she left Ocean City and moved to Arizona.
She returned later that same year, and we eventually continued building our life together.
There was also an interesting coincidence involving this property.
Years later, Kendra’s cousin and his wife, who was his girlfriend at the time, ended up living at the same address.
Of all the houses and apartments in Ocean City, they happened to occupy one that already had a place in our history.
We always thought that was interesting.
3416 Bay Avenue: Back to My Mother’s
During Kendra’s stay in Ariazona, I returned to live with my mother at 3416 Bay Avenue.
My grandparents had purchased the one-bedroom condominium for her. As I understood it, the property was supposed to be passed down to me someday.
That didn’t happen.
My mother suffered a massive heart attack and underwent major surgery. This was during a period when open-heart procedures involved opening the chest, and her recovery was lengthy.
For a while, helping her became a significant part of my life.
Eventually, Joe Thomson, whom we had known since the days at Clipper Drive, stepped in to help.
At first, I was thankful. Someone was there to assist my mother, and I could return to managing my own life.
But circumstances became more complicated.
There were financial problems involving the condominium, questions about a mortgage or refinancing, and eventually the property was sold.
I also had an earlier experience involving a savings bond that disappeared and was reportedly cashed through Joe’s workplace. I remember police officers coming to see me while I was working at the Grill at the Flanders Hotel, asking whether I wanted to press charges.
I didn’t fully understand at the time how some of these events might affect my family’s future.
My mother also faced substantial medical expenses because she didn’t have health insurance. The hospital bills were reportedly more than $100,000.
Following her death, I was even approached about signing paperwork related to the debt. I refused.
My mother died on either October 31 or November 1, 2002, while she was on a cruise.
The official cause recorded was cardiac arrest. I have heard different accounts of what happened aboard the ship, but much of that is hearsay, and I don’t want to present speculation as fact.
At least she wasn’t alone, and she was doing something she enjoyed.
There is much more to the story of my mother, Joe, and the condominium on Bay Avenue. It deserves an article of its own.
For this account, the important part is that 3416 Bay Avenue was another home I returned to as an adult, and one connected to some of the more difficult experiences of my life.
1999: Our First Home at Ninth Street and Bay Avenue
Back then, purchasing a place in Ocean City was still within reach for working people. I’ve written about those earlier years in When We Could Still Afford to Live in Ocean City, including the rentals, friends, and neighborhoods that made the island feel like a community.
In 1999, two years after Kendra returned from Arizona, we purchased our first home.
It was near Ninth Street and Bay Avenue, and it wasn’t what most people would picture when they think of buying a house.
It was a garage that had been converted into a condominium. it was 450 square feet.
We paid $35,000 for it.
This was before Ocean City real estate prices really took off in the early 2000s. Looking back, $35,000 sounds almost ridiculous for a property on the island, but that was what we paid.
It was the first and only property we purchased during our forty years in Ocean City.
And it was ours.
Our son Brian was born on August 13, 2002, and that little converted garage became his first home.
I have a photograph of my mother holding Brian there. She died only a couple of months after he was born, so that picture is one of the few reminders I have of them together.
By approximately 2004, when Brian was around two years old, we sold the condominium for $115,000.
Not a bad return on a $35,000 investment.
Unfortunately, that money didn’t last.
Some time later, while Kendra was seven months pregnant with our daughter, an employer I had been working for simply stopped paying us.
His name was Robert, and for reasons I still don’t entirely understand, he eventually disappeared from our lives.
The financial consequences were substantial, and the profit we had made from selling our first home was eventually gone.
That’s another story I intend to write someday, because there’s quite a bit more to it.
But the converted garage near Ninth Street and Bay Avenue will always be important to me. It was the first place we owned, where we began raising our family, and where my mother got to meet her grandson.
200 Asbury Avenue: A Garden Above a Plumbing Business
After selling the condominium, we moved to 200 Asbury Avenue.
We rented the property for several years, and it was here that our daughter Kaiya was born on June 16, 2006.
The apartment was above a plumbing business, and one of its more unusual features was a long, flat blacktop roof accessible from the porch.
Kendra took one look at that space and decided she needed a garden.
She set up plants on the rooftop and spent plenty of time caring for them.
It wasn’t exactly a conventional backyard, but she made it work.
The roof also became one of our favorite places to sleep.
On warm nights, we would carry our mattress outside onto the porch and sleep in the open air.
Nobody could see us up there.
We would wake up in the morning with dew on our covers, smelling the salt air.
There was something particularly nice about sleeping outside without having to go camping or drive anywhere.
Ironically, 200 Asbury Avenue was the farthest from the beach I had ever lived while in Ocean City.
But with that rooftop porch, I didn’t particularly mind.
Kendra’s garden also became one of those details I would remember years later, especially after we finally moved somewhere with an actual yard.
Back to the South End: 43rd Street
I’ve written more about Brian’s experience with Legg-Calvé-Perthes disease, including the surgeries, the years of pain, and the challenges we faced as a family.
Eventually, we moved south again, this time to a second-floor home on 43rd Street.
Of all the places I lived in Ocean City, this one was the closest to the beach, about three and a half blocks away.
For a family with two young children, that was certainly convenient.
But our time on 43rd Street also came with some difficult circumstances.
This was where we learned that Brian had bilateral Legg-Calvé-Perthes disease, a condition affecting the hip joints.
Suddenly, the fact that we lived on the second floor became a problem.
Brian needed a wheelchair, which meant carrying it up and down the stairs whenever we wanted to leave the house.
It was a constant reminder that our son was dealing with something very different from what the other children in his grade were experiencing.
There were also frustrations involving the Ocean City school system and how his needs were handled. In my experience, the attention and support weren’t always what the school system advertised.
But that’s another subject, and probably another article.
Living in Ocean City didn’t mean every day was spent on the beach or walking the Boardwalk. We still had jobs, bills, doctors’ appointments, and the responsibilities that come with raising a family.
And sometimes those responsibilities were considerably more complicated than we expected.
The house on 43rd Street reminds me of that period more than anything else.
Back to Ninth Street: A Real Ocean City Cottage
One thing I always appreciated about the older Ocean City neighborhoods was the variety of homes. The small cottages and older buildings gave the town much of its character. The city’s Historic District Walking Tour documents some of Ocean City’s architectural history and the buildings that have been preserved.
I honestly don’t remember why we left 43rd Street.
But we eventually found another place back near Ninth Street, about a block from the converted garage condominium we had purchased years earlier.
This time, it was an actual little Ocean City cottage.
It had two bedrooms downstairs, a loft, and even a fig tree in the yard.
It was the sort of small house that had been part of Ocean City for generations, before so many of the older homes began disappearing in favor of larger construction.
Kendra worked at a restaurant right on the corner, while I was working in Hammonton as a system administrator.
Life there was fairly ordinary.
We worked, raised the children, and went about our daily routines.
I don’t associate that cottage with any one major event. Sometimes a house is simply a place where you live, and that’s perfectly fine.
Then my grandmother died, and another opportunity presented itself.
We moved back to 115 South Inlet.
After all those years traveling north and south around Ocean City, I was returning to where I had started.
115 South Inlet: Back Where It All Began
Returning to South Inlet was an interesting experience.
The first time I lived there, in 1984, I was living with my mother and grandparents.
Now I was returning with a wife and two children of my own.
The neighborhood was familiar, but my life was completely different.
This would become the home where Brian and Kaiya grew from children into young adults.
We also lived there through the COVID-19 pandemic and the lockdowns that affected just about every part of daily life.
Brian eventually worked as a lifeguard at the condominium pool.
I had worked as a lifeguard at that same pool back in the early 1990s.
I thought that was a nice bit of family history repeating itself.
The beach was approximately five and a half blocks away, and Kaiya took advantage of it whenever she could.
By then, I had been living in Ocean City for decades, and I had seen a great deal of the island change.
But one of the things that hadn’t changed was the advantage of raising children so close to the beach.
And of all the memories I collected over forty years, those involving my children are probably the ones I value most.
Raising Brian and Kaiya in Ocean City
Living in Ocean City year-round was very different from coming down for a week’s vacation.
For one thing, we didn’t have to plan a trip to the beach.
We could simply go.
When Brian and Kaiya were little, we could take them to the beach almost every day during the summer.
They would play in the sand, run around, get in the water, and generally wear themselves out.
Sometimes we made a special evening of it and took them to the Boardwalk rides.
Now, anyone who has raised children in Ocean City knows those rides aren’t cheap, especially when you live there and the kids want to go all the time.
But every so often, we’d make a night of it.
Sometimes we’d even take the trolley, which made the outing a little more special.
And there was an additional benefit to all that activity.
Those kids slept.
By the time we got home, they were exhausted.
Kendra and I could sit on the back porch, drink a couple of beers, and enjoy a few hours of peace and quiet.
For parents of young children, that’s a pretty good evening.
People often talk about Ocean City in terms of vacations, rental properties, summer crowds, and the Boardwalk.
For us, it was where our children grew up.
That was the greatest advantage of living there, at least as far as I’m concerned.
October 2024: Leaving Ocean City After Forty Years
By 2024, I was ready to leave Ocean City.
I know that might surprise some people, considering how long I had lived there, but the island had changed considerably.
Or perhaps more accurately, the community I remembered had changed.
When I was younger, Ocean City felt much more like a small town. You knew people, people knew you, and the year-round residents had a sense of community that seemed to extend beyond the summer season.
Over the years, I felt much of that slipping away.
It seemed particularly noticeable after COVID.
People appeared more distant, and frankly, some had become rather snooty.
The Ocean City I remembered from the 1980s and 1990s wasn’t the same place I was living in anymore.
I still loved the memories I had made there, but I wasn’t particularly reluctant to leave.
As it happened, an opportunity practically landed in my lap.
My best friend’s mother’s brother, Roy, had passed away.
His family offered me the opportunity to purchase his home in Egg Harbor Township, and they accepted my offer of $350,000.
We sold the condominium at South Inlet, put a substantial down payment on the new house, and in October 2024, we moved off the island.
Just like that, forty years of living in Ocean City came to an end.
A Bigger House, a Real Yard, and Much Bigger Taxes
Our new house is approximately 2,800 square feet.
To put that in perspective, it’s more than twice the size of the largest home we ever lived in while in Ocean City.
And we have a yard.
Kendra has already built herself a garden, and she’s finally getting things the way she wants them.
I sometimes think back to that rooftop garden she created at 200 Asbury Avenue, above the plumbing business.
Back then, she made do with a flat blacktop roof.
Now she has an actual yard where she can plant and arrange things to suit herself.
There are certainly advantages to having more room.
Of course, there are disadvantages too.
Property taxes, for example.
Ocean City was comparatively inexpensive when it came to our property taxes. In Egg Harbor Township, we’re paying roughly a thousand dollars a month.
A thousand dollars.
That’s one thing I certainly didn’t improve by leaving the island.
Since moving, we’ve also had a few medical adventures that I could have done without, including a ruptured appendix that kept me recovering for three months.
And in August 2026, Brian underwent hip surgery that was complicated by a fractured femur. As of October, he was still recovering, although he had made considerable progress.
I suppose we’ve been too busy with those experiences to make many ordinary memories in the new house yet.
But we’re getting there.
Forty Years, From One End of the Island to the Other
When I look back at the places I lived in Ocean City, I don’t necessarily remember the houses themselves first.
I remember building a skateboard ramp behind 136 Clipper Drive and apparently being too selfish to let the other kids ride it.
I remember practicing magic and studying freshwater bass fishing at 418 Ocean Avenue.
I remember Kendra’s tiny rental on Central Avenue, buying our first home for $35,000, and watching that converted garage become Brian’s first home.
I remember sleeping outside on the rooftop porch at 200 Asbury Avenue, carrying Brian’s wheelchair up and down the stairs on 43rd Street, and the little cottage with the fig tree near Ninth Street.
And I remember returning to South Inlet, where my children grew up in the same complex where my own Ocean City life had started.
There were difficult years, good years, and plenty of ordinary years in between.
But I wouldn’t trade the experience of raising Brian and Kaiya in Ocean City.
We had the beach, the Boardwalk, the rides, and the freedom to enjoy those things whenever we wanted, without having to plan a vacation.
That was worth a lot.
In forty years, I traveled from 55th Street north to Second Street and eventually back to 55th Street again.
Then, in October 2024, I crossed the bridge for the last time as an Ocean City resident.
I don’t regret the forty years I spent there.
And I don’t regret leaving.
Although I could certainly do without these Egg Harbor Township property taxes.
