Frankenstorm: Remembering Hurricane Sandy

Here we are, the last day of January, 2016. Over 3 years after Hurricane Sandy demolished the homes, livelihood & life long treasures of the residents of the Sandy Hook Bay Area where my parents live. My grandfather had the house built after WWII for his new bride. My father was raised there, as was I. So many memories …. kittens being born in the attic, Dad building the dormer and adding the dining & laundry rooms. Mom displaying mine & my cousins art work on the fridge and later, my son’s. All saved to be stored inside cabinet doors for regular reflection.
I live 2 hours away and was unable to even get into the area until later that week. I work on a farm for some of the most wonderful people you would ever want to meet! They donated fresh fruit, cider, gasoline, water and money. My church also made donations as did the local cub scout troop, who after I removed all except the front two seats of my minivan, packed my van solid with supplies of everything you could think of …cleaning supplies, clean clothes, personal hygiene products, non perishable foods as well as milk, diapers, batteries, flashlights & gift cards to Home Depot, Loews & grocery stores for once they were reopened. As much as people in South Jersey complain about the laws of our state being geared towards those north of us, their immediate action & outpouring of love & concern for their fellow New Jerseyans was obvious. I am engrained with a real sense of pride to live amongst such loving people. I carefully drove up I95, thankful that my Dad had taught me how to drive using just my side view mirrors, as I couldn’t see out my rearview, the van was packed that tight! I drove up to the street I grew up on and the street was closed. A very nice officer I recognized from growing up there allowed me down the street. I never in my life saw anything like it in person. Friends and neighbors I had known all of my life, were picking out what could be salvaged of their lifetimes of work. A grandmother I knew, was peeling the pages of an old photo album, crying over it as she sat on her front steps. A neighbor let me park in their yard as I couldn’t park in my parents’ driveway. Their was just too much debris. I had to steel myself before facing my parents. Dad was in shock. The living room sofa was out in the front yard, where he was perched on the arm. He would wave & talk to neighbors as they wandered dazedly down the road. My uncle, his brother & only living relative (besides myself & my son) & link to the past, had passed away four months before and the strain of it all had really gotten to him. My mother was in the house busily filling up industrial strength garbage bags with the contents of 65 years of possessions.
I felt so much admiration for my mother that day! How strong she was, going thru the contents of her life, setting aside what was salvageable, smiling when she came across something that held a memory, and discarding what could not be saved. Occasionally we would see my dad walk past the window, on his way to or from his garage where tens of thousands of dollars worth of his beloved wood working tools were well beyond salvage. She would ask him if he was ok. Did he want something to eat? Wow! She was so strong, so steady, so solid, like the rock of Gibraltar! Later that afternoon, we were cleaning out the front vestibule where 100 years, going back to family in Italy, of family photos were displayed. Mom didn’t so much as bat an eyelash as we peeled her family tree off of the glass of the frames that they were in. On the bottom of the front table, there was a beautiful old wooden, velvet lined box. When she picked it up & opened it, she broke. She started to cry, then swore, then walked out the door to ceremoniously dump the box on top of the rapidly growing heap of debris at the curb. She did not come right back in.
I felt so helpless. I left the house, crying myself, to distribute the goods I brought to the neighbors. Many of these people I knew from growing up there, some I did not. But we were all bonded by our sense of grief, loss & shock. I was surprised at how many of my neighbors were offering ME something to drink or to share what little food they had available to them. They just wanted to talk, to have an ear to listen to their grief. It was an overwhelmingly heart wrenching experience, to hear their stories. To see where Billy once magic markered the walls, where little John had burnt a scorch mark on the floor while experimenting with a chemistry set. To be shown where Mr. Burns father had died in his sleep where the living room couch once was. To see houses I had played in as a child uninhabitable.
Like so many other residents of that area, my parents, are still not in their homes. Since Sandy, my parents have become senior citizens & retired, as have many of their friends. Some of the residents will never be able to return to their homes. Some because the homes have been condemned, some because of new zoning. One of my parents’ friends came down with an inoperable tumor. She just wanted to die in her own home. Her husband got rid of the FEMA contractors and at great personal expense, hired his own. Sadly, the progression was quicker than the builders and she never did get to see it completed, let alone live or die in it. The recovery from Sandy is not yet over for many of the inhabitants of the area. But they remain strong & hopeful. Perhaps this spring my parents will be able to return to “the old homestead”, as my father calls it.

I was on a cruise ship, our port of calls were Nassau and Freeport. We made it Nassau ok, but could not make it to Freeport. Instead our captain elected to try and out run sandy. My stateroom was on the 5th deck, i could look out my porthole and watch the waves hit my porthole.
You could set up pn the 10th deck were the swinging pool was, and see the sea spray come over the top of ship.

I live in in West Haven, Connecticut which is located on the south shore. During the height of Hurricane Sandy, the trees at my condo were bending all the way to the ground. One of my friends, who lives in Madison, Ct., recorded a wind gust of 98 MPH on his home weather station. My home barometer fell to 28.80″ even thought the center of Sandy came ashore in Atlantic City, New Jersey. This compares to my barometer falling to 28.96″ with the arrival of Hurricane Irene in 2011. I will always remember these two Back to Back hurricanes.

When the ocean began to crash over the boardwalk the day before sandy was supposed to hit we knew it was time to get off the island.seaside heights had been our home for many years . It was tuly heartbreaking to c the newscasters standing I. 5ft of water during the storm. The next day we couldn’t get within 3 blocks radius of the bridge to go home because of the flooding. And safety of the bridge was compromised by boats and houses smashing into it!!!! Houses!!!!?!? Yes ! It took two weeks before we could get over there it was so eerie sand piled up 2&3 stories high trucks in sink holes houses and motels torn to shreds . It felt like a movie set w the military presence not to forget every other form of law enforcement . There were checkpoints we needed I’d to pass through, we couldn’t leave the area we were helping in the cvs was on 24/7 survailence. At night was the worst the only light where fires burning ….. With no where to get a room or rent a place we had to go up north by my brother in Passaic county and thank god we found a room there. We came back down end of feb the day before my daughter gave birth to our first grandchild. It took till end of May to finally find a place to live 13 miles from our former home. We miss the salt air and the peace and quite of the off season however if there is another storm like sandy we are far enough away from the water….. Please remember there are still many people struggling to get their lives back together we still need dressers and curtains etc… However god provides and we have a roof over our head and no loss of life .. Just stuff lost and a lesson learned!!!!! There is no way around Mother Nature !!! Thanks Karen