The Jersey Shore

Aside from the we're-all-brothers vibe, the second aspect of the Jersey Shore I should mention -- and this will become apparent as you delve into the other detailed field reports in today's Travel section -- is its diversity. None of the Atlantic coastline's 127 miles, from Sandy Hook in the north all the way to Cape May, an hour's ferry ride across the Delaware Bay from Lewes, is exactly like any other.

In general, the biggest difference is a north-south thing. New Yorkers and North Jerseyans head to Ocean and Monmouth counties -- to the family-friendly boardwalks and laid-back beaches of Ocean Grove, Sea Girt, Manasquan, Point Pleasant Beach and the more singles-friendly streets, clubs and amusement piers of Seaside Heights. Philadelphians head to the small-town, boardwalk-free charms of Long Beach Island and points south, including such quieter Atlantic City "suburbs" as Margate and Stone Harbor, and the extensive boardwalk-based amusements of the Wildwoods and Ocean City. In the north, the locals call the tourists "bennies." In the south, they're "shoobies." In both cases the love-hate relationship is long-standing and pretty much co-dependent.

The three best-known cities along the coast -- Asbury Park, Atlantic City and Cape May -- are less representative of the Jersey Shore and more like attractions unto themselves, each with its own specialty:

· Victorian architecture, B&Bs and some of the world's widest beaches in Cape May (where someone recently proposed opening a camel concession -- to get people across the vast sands to the water's edge).

· Casinos, of course, and spas and shopping and most things air-conditioned, in Atlantic City.

· Asbury Park's amazingly persistent live rock-and-roll club presence, first made famous by Bruce Springsteen in the early '70s, and its more recent rebirth and gentrification as a resort hub for gays and a year-round design and arts center.

Yes, things change. It's hard to believe "The Sopranos" series has ended, for instance, with Tony still alive and open to a movie deal.

On the other hand, some things hardly change at all: Point Pleasant Beach, for instance.

Aside from a relatively healthy, picturesque and franchise-free downtown, Point Pleasant Beach's oceanfront and mile-long boardwalk seem much the same today as they were when my high school buddies and I really got to know it the summer before senior year. After buying our El Producto cigars at Martell's (now a more built-up place whose Tiki Bar near Arnold Avenue and the boardwalk's kid-friendly amusement area offers live music almost nightly), we'd smoke them as we walked -- okay, ambled, but in a really cool way -- north through a mostly residential area. Up here, the sound of kids and cooking and card games still wafts, as it did then, from the patios and screened porches that face the boardwalk and the beach.

Eventually we'd wind up at Jenkinson's Pavilion, at the Manasquan Inlet, where there were dances every Saturday night. Today there are concerts and fireworks here on the weekends.

Today there are also markedly fewer teenagers standing around wondering, as we did, why no girls would ever come around and talk to us. And that's probably a good thing.

We now know it was not us, per se, but the cigar smoke. At least that's what we tell the kids.