I share CommanderKeen's feelings and choose not to lie or even explain away why I live in Jersey City. It's my choice. Any person that judges me for this reason is not "judging me on the content of my character." - (Martin Luther King)

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Um, not sure I understand your whole point, but scroll up and look at the top left hand of this page - it says "downtown" jersey City list.

You may be happy or miserable anywhere. Please read Victor Frankl's book Man's Search For Meaning and consider the theory of Logotherapy. Frankl was a prisoner of concentration camps during WWII, and found a happiness in the meaning of surviving horrific conditions. As someone that was a Navy corpsman in Bosnia, I've seen some things that would give many nightmares....At the same time I was somewhat happy in serving others...I do not mean to say that starving in some foreign land would be pleasant, but no matter how much you dislike JC its really not as bad as that situation.

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I need to do these things? Do I really? That's weird.

Quote:I...don't really understand this at all. Are you telling me it's hard for me to get to other parts of JC from here? Is that a joke or something?

jclxz........................... Please, please, please move to Brooklyn.
You seem like you would fit right in.

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NO. please don't.

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It's rare that a person is judged solely based on where they live. But it's certainly one of the dozen or so things that go towards a first impression. And face it. If you tell the truth about living in Jersey City, you either need to emphasize other attributes of yourself, engage in deception, or possibly outright lies.

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Really? Explain how this works. A refugee in Gaza decides to be happy, and then he is. I think you're on to something here. I guess we could start by seeing who said that Jersey City is relevant to their happiness.

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Jersey city's an interesting place in that regard. Because it is so easy to get to so many good places from here, it makes sense to live here and completely hate it. If you love Manhattan, it makes more sense to live in Jersey City than Manhattan, because you are closer to the good parts of Manhattan. Obviously this leads to every kind of pathology present here. I used to appreciate the charm. But as they replaced the interesting-looking urban decay downtown with the most ugly new constructin I've ever seen, I started to lose faith. Still, it didn't matter, as I can revert back to the "I don't live here, I sleep here" attitude that I had when I first moved here. As things get steadily worse, as the government treats its constituents worse, as the people here are worse to each other, I'm going to get more certain. I hate Jersey City. I live here because I love lower Manhattan. It's easier for me to get to lower Manhattan than it is for most of the entirety of New York City.

And yes, I realize that it is a sign of a generally pathological situation if urban decay, run-down burnt-out buildings, and piles of debris are more aesthetically pleasing than new construction. Perhaps some old pictures need to get posted to drive this tragic point home.

It seems most people on jclist live in downtown JC. If you love JC so much, why not live an area more accessible to the rest of JC, instead of an area that has accessibility to NY as a primary virtue?

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amen! i also think that ripping on new jersey is just totally old and tired. be more original.

1. Any one that judges you solely on where you live is at best ignorant and at worst a bigot.
2. You can be happy anywhere or miserable anywhere. It's really your personal choice.
3. The only way I've changed since I moved from Manhattan is that now I've got a few more dollars in my pocket. (I'll take the cash over "status" any day)
4. Thankfully if you don't like a place you may simply go away.

I get the same cracks and jokes about New Jersey that this writer does but I just tell people to #OOPS# off about it.

I don't know how long ago the pig farms existed in Secaucus. I heard about them all my life from my parents and everybody else. Now, I am really really old and have been to Secaucus thousands of times. In all that time I have never seen nor smelled a pig. Oh, except for the titty bar on Secaucus Road but other than that I never seen no pigs.

Westport is in...

CONNECTICUT?



Real New Yorkers know that Jersey is just as much as part of the region as Queens or the Bronx is. The people you guys feel it so necessary to talk up your town to are the fake jokers that just moved here and think that to act like "Real New Yorkers" they have to make fun of Jersey. It's that herd mentality megalomania that made them move to the city in the first place, thinking they would immediately become Big Shit. Don't lie about where you're from, because then the rest of your life is based in that lie and you become as fake as those losers are.

Who never lies about being in Jersey City? Either you have to lie, or you have to include a 5 minute explanation, either about how your neighborhood isn't that bad, or about where it is.

If you've lived in Jersey City any length of time, you've certainly encountered shock from people, and countered it with an explanation that Manhattan is real close.

boring story. this person wasn't from jersey. didnt even stand up for herself. crappy story. i got a better one...New Jersey has more horses than Kentucky even when the derby is runnin.

This entire piece is reminiscent of the kind of bad but "safe" middlebrow humor that newspapers used to run in syndication years ago. The Onion has spoofed this sort of columnist many times, most recently here.

"And Kentucky contributes what exactly? Other than banjos and moonshine and a 2 minute horse race."

MASSIVE pig farms.

Haha - the girl (roommate) that looked down her nose at NJ was from Kentucky? Haha. New Jersey as a whole is 10x more wealthy and has more culture and sophistication than Kentucky will ever, ever have.

That's quite funny. Some people just have no idea. It's amusing, frustrating, and sad at the same time. Oh well.

Oh My! Talk about an inferiority complex. She should see someone about that instead of subjecting unsuspecting readers to her horrid....journalism???

Not even am I am from Jersey, I?m from Jersey City, and I love telling people, obviously.

And, where the hell is Westport anyway?

I LOVE telling people I'm from Jersey. I get a lot of "Where you from? You from Russia? Poland?" and I always reply with a huge smile... "NO. New Jersey."

New Jersey really is a great state. If you look at the number of successful companies and talented people here... our great location between NY and Philly... The diversity of our residents, our history of invention and innovation... our universities. AND currently we are one of the leading states to develop clean energy technology. So much to be proud of.

The smelliest places I've ever been to are New York City, Boston, and Paris. At least New Jersey's smells emanate from necessary commercial activity. The smells in NYC, Boston, and Paris were mainly waste (some human) not being discarded of properly.

My favorite smell is one from my youth sitting in the car as a kid driving from Manalapan to whatever NJ beach we were going to that day. You could always smell the ocean air when you got near. I guess that's what Kramer was thinking, too. Did I just get used to it or does it still exist anymore?

And Kentucky contributes what exactly? Other than banjos and moonshine and a 2 minute horse race.

We never got to hear what town she was from. I would love to know where the mysterious pig currents combine with the secaucus dump. Is there is pig farm in lyndhurst we don't know about? I remember driving through Bedminster and Bernardsville and it smelling like honeysuckles and dirt road. It sounds like she's from Staten Island as opposed to Jersey.

Your roommate sounds like a major stuck up b**ch. I can smell a Jersey Girl with an inferiiority complex as quickly as I can smell Elizabeth because I kinda have one. Anyone who considers the opinion of someone just cause they're of "blue chip stock" needs to live in Westport.

Dear Jesus.... I guess journalism IS dead. If that didn't regurgitate every hack cliche in the history of "I'm from New Jersey" , I don't know what does. Good riddance.

yes. jersey smells. really funny. ha.
glad you've moved away.
please feel free to stay there.

http://www.judithmarks-white.com/content/author.asp
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Jersey girl

Westport News
08/19/2009

There's a certain stigma associated with being from New Jersey that I carry around like a piece of excess baggage. Let's face it: New Jersey stinks, and I mean that literally. Once you cross over the George Washington Bridge your nasal passages stand at attention, alerting you to the fact that odd smells permeate the air. It's a scent that lingers known as Eau de Jersey. Those who have had the unfortunate experience of being there when the wind blows in a westerly direction understand. It's a combination of Jersey cows, pig farms and the famous Secaucus dump.

For years, I walked around with a secret I swore I'd carry to my grave. Now I'm ready to let it all hang out: I'm originally from New Jersey and am proud of it. Yet, I knew that when I left the state, and no matter where I ended up, I would spend the rest of my life trying to live it down. I remember arriving at college and meeting my roommate for the first time. She was tall. She was blonde. She was from blue chip stock and reeked of sophistication.

"I'm Lou Ann," she said, stretching the "Ann" out so that it sounded almost melodic. "I hail from Louisville, Ky."

Even the way she pronounced "Louisville" sounded dramatic. It beat saying "Passaic," or "Newark," or God forbid, "Parsippany." "I'm from New Jersey," I said.

There was a long pause as she tossed me a look that was a cross between scorn and extreme pity.

"Oh," she said, "I've never met anyone from New Jersey before."

She said "New Jersey" with such disdain as though it were a communicable disease. I knew without fully understanding why, that of all the places, this was definitely not the state in which one would voluntarily admit to living. It was at that moment I decided I would not go through life telling anyone where I was from unless I knew for certain that they were from New Jersey, too. Instead, I devised a series of responses to get me through the humiliating ordeal of being asked: "So, where do you come from?"

"Thirty minutes outside Manhattan," I'd say.

"Where?" they prodded.

And when I ran out of excuses, the ugly truth reared its head. "New Jersey," I whispered.

"New Jersey smells like rotten eggs," someone from Boston once told me.

"Only in certain areas," I said, defensively. I felt a loyalty to my state as though it were a motherless child that needed constant protecting.

"New Jersey is called the Garbage State," she said.

True, sometimes the smell from the pig farms were so bad that it wafted over to places usually not hard-hit. As a child, I would awaken to a strange aroma, realizing that overnight the wind currents had changed. So intense were these odors, breakfast conversations often revolved around them. I imagined other families sitting at their tables discussing the news of the day or the latest books they had read. In our house we talked about air quality, trying to determine exactly from where the smell emanated.

"Smells like sweaty feet," was the usual consensus.

"More like moldy cheese," I would say.

"I think it's more like damp clothes that have been sitting in the washer too long," my mother chimed in.

Such ruminations would go on for the entire breakfast. Early on, I vowed that when I grew up, I would never live in a place whose environment played such a big role in mealtime discussions. When I visited other states the air smelled clean and fresh -- and even though my house was located near a lovely park and lake, and sat above a manicured lawn -- there was no denying: it was still New Jersey.

You can take the girl out of New Jersey, but you can't take New Jersey out of the girl. I grew up feeling I was a misfit -- a girl from a place that was different from the sweet-smelling states I had visited like Virginia and the Carolinas where the fragrance of magnolia blossoms permeated the air. Florida smelled of sand and surf, Maine of lobsters and salt air breezes. Even New York with all its problems smelled differently. The musty subways and buses that would fail any emissions test seemed like perfume next to the New Jersey I remember. To many, we were judged as a separate entity unto itself. We were not the Garden State, but the weed state or "Planet Smelly." It was enough to give a kid an inferiority complex.

If that wasn't bad enough, the town you lived in determined how far down the social scale you had stooped. Garfield, Paterson and Lodi caused blue bloods like my roommate to grow faint. Short Hills, Saddle River, Summit and Montclair exuded a more acceptable image. If you were from Jersey City or Weehawken, it was all over. South Orange or Maplewood held a modicum of respect.

It has taken me years to come clean -- years to shed the New Jersey stamp of disapproval. When I'm now asked where I'm from, I hold my head high, muster up the courage and in a strong, well-modulated, self-assured voice say: "New Jersey."

"What town?" people ask. And that's where I draw the line.

"Practically in Manhattan," I tell them.

Westporter Judith Marks-White shares her humorous views every Wednesday in the Westport News. She can be reached via e-mail at joodth@snet.net or at www.judithmarks-white.com