At Camp Osborn, Only Memories Remain A Year After Sandy

There is nothing left of Brick's Camp Osborn neighborhood a year after Sandy – just like there was nothing left a day after Sandy.

If the Shore was restored, the demolition of the burnt-out homes of a mix of seasonal and year-round residents was about as much the Camp got out of the effort over the past 52 weeks.

There are rumors circulating about the future, from condos to villa-style homes, from townhouses to single-family residences on a portion of the neighborhood that has been sold by its longtime owner, Bob Osborn, but Mayor Stephen C. Acropolis said this week that no plans have been formally submitted to the township.

It's a waiting game. And a particularly sad one at that, as families wonder if they'll ever be able to wake up every day to the sound of the ocean, send their children out to play with their friends without much to worry about, or maintain friendships that many times, were started generations earlier.

Resident after resident, over the past year, has said their neighborhood was extra special – different from the mainland, and different from the rest of the barrier island throughout its century-old history in the annals of Brick Township lore.

For now, there are just memories, and this friendly, tight-knit group of long time residents are always eager to share them with each other and anyone who wants to listen.

Brenda Sandar Stoveken, a Camp resident, recently posted a picture to Facebook showing her grandson fishing off a dock on the bayside of the camp.

"Never had the heart to tell him the beach house is gone," she wrote as a caption.

"Today, I am a renter," said Betty Ann Fuller, a year-round Camp resident who started out at 23 Shell Road when her godfather bought a house when she was two weeks old in 1951. She grew up at the Camp, moved a few doors away once or twice, eventually ending up off Route 35 in the home that burnt down during the storm.

"We had wonderful memories growing up," she recalled. "The bread man, milk man, balloon man, you name it."

She finished building her most recent home June 26, 2012, nearly four months to the day it would be destroyed – along with things that can never be replaced.

"After five years of losing my son, Paul, I lost everything," she said. "His personal effects, insurance records, medical records, legal records. Everything including his diaries that I never finished reading."

Carol Damiano Casale's family goes back to 1952 in the Camp. Some of her relatives even met their wives and husbands there. It wasn't fancy, but nobody minded one bit.

"We had no second car, no phone and no hot water," Casale said. "None of that mattered, we were by the sea, living outside as much as inside."

"The memories are flowing this week as the 29th approaches," she said. "My family has cried and laughed this past year as we keep our memories alive. Camp O will forever be in our hearts, but we want to go home to walk the sand of our beach."

"The Taylors, the Cloups, the the Foulks, the Van Arsdalen's, the Schlesingers, the Deckers, the Cuozzos and many more were my friends, are my daughter's friends, and now are my grandchildren's friends!" she said. "Never had to worry about 'the kids' being out and about because everyone knew who belonged to who and where they belonged."

"We miss our little slice of heaven every day," said Keith Nolan. "I'm thankful for the time we were able to spend there and for our friends. There are two things Sandy did not take from us – our memories and our friendships. No matter what is built there, it will always be Camp Osborn to us."

Nick Honachefsky, another year-round resident of the Camp, has a special relationship with the ocean and Mother Nature. He makes a living in the recreational fishing industry covering the sport in photojournalism and television, and has a respect for the sea that few others can perfect.

"Nothing substantially has changed for me since day zero," he said. "My new day to day 'normal' is a gypsy’s life, as I stay at four to five different friends' homes every few weeks, pack ratting my clothes around, while I wait handcuffed as the township and my association mire in regulations about rebuilding."

"Every day is a battle," he said. "It’s life on the run. I still hear the air raid sirens and see the Blackhawk helicopters overhead every day, while most sleep soundly in their own beds. Mother Ocean took it all away from me, but she has given me so much more over the years, so I don’t slight her one bit. It’s battling the human and political elements to get back a normal life that hurts. I hold onto hope that I might have a place to come home to soon."

"It is still hard to move on, regardless of what people think," said Fuller. "It's not as easy as they think. I am grateful for all the memories, hope to have more, but not sure if I can emotionally come back to what is left, and what was lost."

Honachefsky is optimistic that there are many years' worth of memories to be built, however.

"As life throws curve balls my way everyday with living in the heart and soul of the beach, I am lucky and thankful that I can still stay with my friends on the island and catch the fish that are waiting for me to come home," he said. "Every moment is to be cherished in life, and nothing can stop progress to get back to normal. Sandy has nothing on us."