Gadzooks, a Recession! Why Is It Hard to Find?

As newspaper reporters we are trained always to question, and never accept blindly anything we are told. The old journalism adage compels those in the news profession: If your mother tells you she loves you, check it out.
Now about these economic doldrums in which we have found ourselves, purely as a reporter, I have to question and wonder. If I failed to do so, I would not be doing the job I’m being paid to perform.
Agreed, there is much pain and anguish. I have seen it, felt it and know these times are bad as any we’ve seen. Still, I wonder if, just maybe, someone is not telling us the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
Last week, the family took a brief escape from the Cape to Hershey, Pa. We were not alone in this escapade, but went to watch our granddaughter perform with 60 other Cape May County members of Dancers Two on stage at Hersheypark.
Call me a spy in enemy territory. Put a happier face on it and say I was on an intelligence gathering, fact-finding mission. Classify the sojourn as a tool to measure just how we, in Cape May County, are doing against competition for tourism dollars.
People love chocolate as much as they love the beach and boardwalk here, but I was totally amazed at the crowds flocking into the entrance gates on a Monday morning. How could this be, I wondered? We are in hard times, an economic recession has forced GM into bankruptcy, has taken Wall Street to its knees, has caused widespread suffering. So where are all those people coming from?
Judging from license plates in the parking lot of that amusement park built by candy bars, many of those vehicles could qualify as “gas guzzlers.” Aside from that astounding fact, those vehicles were from New York, West Virginia, Rhode Island, Oklahoma, Ohio, Utah, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina and Iowa, and I must have missed a few others.
Is somebody stealing our lunch?
If there is supposed to be a national shortage of funds, it wasn’t apparent at the Chocolate World retail section. There every conceivable way to merchandise the Hershey brand was on sale: hats, sweatshirts, cups, necklaces, sun visors, stuffed toys, chocolate Barbie dolls and, of course $39.95 five-pound “biggest chocolate bars in the world” were moving out.
Few, if any, want to deny their offspring the many pleasures offered in an amusement park, in central Pennsylvania or on the Jersey Shore boardwalks and promenades. Perhaps if money is tight, most of those people spent their whole paycheck getting the family inside the park gates, and will starve for the remainder of the summer. Somehow, I doubt that.
Hersheypark is also sporting direct competition to the Jersey Cape’s beaches with its own manmade “Boardwalk” section. There, complete with huge wave pool, faux sand dunes and luxury beach cabanas, visitors walk along on fake concrete “boards.” I’m sure the park’s owners faced no flack over using rain forest wood there, as did Wildwood officials on the real Boardwalk.
Here’s the question, were there any of those cabanas left to rent by mid day? Absolutely not!
What did those folks get for their money? Aside from the unfettered pleasure of a lazy river water park ride and the wave pool, free drinks, free towels, free floatation vest for the little ones, and a private place to relax, tan and think up ways to spend more money.
Times are tough, but they can’t be that rough if there is so much money left to pump back into the economy.
I also wonder how much “under the table” money is floating around. That “green” cash must be fueling a lot of illicit labor, judging from the things I saw last week.
As I thought more about this dilemma, I recalled my Navy days. With some stars in my eyes, I wanted to see the world through a porthole.
Almost from the first day in boot camp, I heard a recurring phrase that lingers: “This isn’t the real Navy.” When first I heard it, I was really disappointed. After all, I was bald headed, wearing huge boxer shorts and other stuff that didn’t fit, being screamed at from morning until night. I was taught how to fold clothes like Mom never taught me, how to shine shoes and how to hold a rifle that didn’t fire. If that wasn’t the Navy, what was?
Our company commander would tell tales of life aboard an aircraft carrier. That, he said, was the “real” Navy. I was stuck in an electronics classroom, then in radio school. Everywhere, I heard that “This isn’t the “real” Navy.” It would be different once we got out in “the fleet” we were told.
Two years on shore duty in Hawaii under Navy rigors, and we got the same spiel. The real Navy certainly didn’t exist under a pineapple field guarded by Marines. The real thing was out on the waves.
Finally, orders took me to a minesweeper. It was the nearest I ever got to the “real” Navy, but even there, all the chiefs told us was “This isn’t the real Navy.” So where was the Navy if not there? I started to get scared in mid-Pacific, here I was on a boat that wasn’t part of the “real” Navy, I must have been duped.
In short, I never did find the “real” Navy. Even in Reserve duty time, it was evasive.
I’m beginning to think the same thing about this recession and these tough economic times.
Like the horizon, I believe the “real” recession is out there, but over there where we can’t see it. Is it really out there? I won’t believe it until I see proof with my own eyes, but then, do I really want to find out?