November 9
Good news! We got electricity at the Powell Street Arms two days ago. None yet in Chapel Hill. But 6” of snow and ice Weds night, which caused many trees in the area to crack and fall — the snow was so heavy.
Some of you have asked about pre-storm and how we all wound up where we landed.
Sunday, Day 1 of the actual storm wasn’t too bad but the crush of expectation was intense, sort of a combination of those feelings of the night before Thanksgiving, when there is so much to do; and when you are so low on gas and there isn’t a station in sight. People at the supermarkets were stocking up before the hoarders got there as Joe used to say, and I admit I bought things that wouldn’t last, like eggs and yogurt, hoping that by having them the storm would whimper away. The local roads were jammed and there was a manic atmosphere everywhere. I admit that even on Saturday afternoon before the storm I hadn’t really given it that much thought — after all, the weekend before we were wearing sleeveless tops so it was too much of a disconnect to think that we’d be cold and rainy. A good friend who is part of a small beach town emergency team includes me on briefing alerts when there is an unusual weather pattern. He had sent a bulletin a week before saying, “There is the potential for a very powerful and dangerous autumn storm to affect our region early next week.”
The next one said, “I’m sure that you probably have seen this but on the slight chance you haven’t, greet it and weep.”
So the usual tom tom beating began between and among the family members in LoMo, Mid-Mo, NoMo (Mo is Monmouth) and Jersey City. Should we each stay put, should we go, where to go, etc. Decided to stay local, but not at my house because what if a giant tree fell across the driveway and stranded us? Highlands had to evacuate so that left Molly’s place out. Cathy had to man the generator for a trio of houses in her road and we weren’t sure we wanted to run the risk of being caught in JC since two worked locally and the third used public transit to NYC. So the three NoMo residents went to Lucy’s which had fared well during Irene.
We were sort of enjoying that weird frenzied anticipation being stoked by the news channels on Sunday afternoon when the power went out. And stayed out. Hmmm…well at least we didn’t think we’d lose heat because the gas stove was working, and we did have that chicken, and so had a great little dinner while it just was only misting and drizzling outside. It seemed that it all going to be a big exaggeration. We listened a bit to the radio but nothing really out of the ordinary seemed to be happening around us. Until we opened the door and heard the most otherworldly sounds of the sea and the wind rushing around.
Day 2 dawned to the most eerie quiet inside. And to chaos outside. And to the sound of a few generators up and down the little street. And to a huge tree on Lucy’s property that had fallen outside our window.
This was the beginning of the realization that something terribly significant had happened. We tried to walk to town, just a few blocks away, but the street was flooded. Nothing was open and no one was on the street. It was as Molly described it, like Blade Runner. No street lights. Totally isolating. At that stage we didn’t really know what had happened so settled in to wait until we could actually do something. We got calls and emails from family members and friends far away but had little to report since we were in our little cocoon. So we made pasta and salad by candle and flashlight and read Sunday’s NY Times and waited and wondered. It was pretty cold but of course we were all bundled up.
On Day 3, Tuesday morning, it was cold; we ventured out toward the marina and as we approached it we could not believe our eyes. There were boats scattered in the street near the town movie house and pizza place. We couldn’t get to the marina because it was cordoned off but we were close enough to see that all the boats had come loose from their moorings and were scattered everywhere, on top of each other, in people’s gardens, driveways, turn turtled in the Seastreak ferry parking lot — like little toys in a bathtub. People were in the street just staring, disbelieving. It was shocking. But the Chinese restaurant had a hand lettered sign on a piece of cardboard that said we are open — and sure enough, peering into the dark you could see the owners with their generator, waiting for customers. It was a surreal contrast.
Molly and I drove to Highlands not knowing what to expect, filled with trepidation about the state of her house and as we approached we realized the police were turning people away. But when she said she was a resident, he just stared and said, well ok.
At least her house was standing, that was the first thing. The we saw that the entire street was flooded and we waded through to the back deck — she’d put sandbags down in a Herculean effort the day before the storm, and positioned concrete blocks in front of the front and back doors to prevent them flying open. When we got back there we realized that her shed was gone — with the lawn mower and her bike inside! It was tucked neatly between her neighbor’s fence and another small shed two gardens away. How could that happen…
She opened the back door and we were astonished to see the fridge in the kitchen lying on its back - there was so much water in the house that it floated and settled down, handle up, when the water lowered. She had moved a lot of her belongings upstairs but everything downstairs was soaked — the water came up more than four feet, saturating her bed, chairs, sofa — all of it. We started to move the throw rugs out any loose things outside. It was pretty grim and upsetting. She has a great contact though, Angel, who said he would come the next day to scope the situation out. And he did come, with two companeros. The insurance company said to cut away the sheetrock on all the walls in the first floor but leave a two inch strip so the investigator could see the water line. So that’s what they did. And she spent the next few days cleaning, wringing out, walking the town, talking to people, listening to very sad stories, meeting the FEMA guy, dealing with the insurance company and came in every night just exhausted and cold from the anguish and desperation she saw all around. And of course it is a terrible feeling to lose one’s home and possessions and know that you cannot go back for awhile. It was and is devastating. But thankfully Angel is on the case.
Lucy was working and was essential since many staff had to call out. But several local rehab centers were forced to evacuate their patients and they went to Lucy’s place — so her center was packed with people who needed attention and help. It seemed like she was working around the clock, non-stop. It was amazing that she was actually able to drive there, although it’s only a mile away. Thankfully they have generators and backup systems. And TV. And it was warm there as she reminded us. She came home each night and filled us in on what was going on in the world, how other people were coping and faring.
And we did listen to the radio a bit but were a little anxious about the batteries running out, so we turned it off after getting the highlights. And ate some of the food in the fabulous freezer which, like Aladdin’s cave, was filled with magical stuff like still-cool cheese and mini-pizzas.
We tried to get in touch with Cathy, Steve, Jim and Betty Lou but it wasn’t easy because either we didn’t have charged phones or they didn’t. And some mailboxes were full. It was so nerve-wracking and upsetting not to know how they were doing and what they were going to do.
By Day 4 several local restaurants cleaned out their super freezers and put card tables up on the street. Somehow they got generators and were able to cook up a storm. Memphis Pig-Out had pulled pork sandwiches, the pizza place had some slices, Siam Thai had some noodles — all very very low key. There were still no street lights and the police were on the job directing whatever traffic there was — not much because people weren’t really driving yet and the gas stations weren’t open. Most people were not going to work, because work was down and out too. Molly brought the Thai food home and we scarfed it down before dark. We have a curfew here so had to be off the street by 6pm.
Every day and night we spent a lot of time tidying, washing the dishes, organizing, checking and double checking where our stuff was, where the car keys were, where our eyeglasses, Chapstick, sweaters, etc. were. The neighbor down the street let us charge our phones in his kitchen; and Lucy would bring either Molly’s or my phone to work and charge it — so many people were doing that, though, she could only bring one a day.
Each of us has a different temperament and focus so this was a terrific exercise not only in along getting along and staying positive, but also in understanding each other’s priorities in the face of cold and darkness. It went (and continues to go, as we are all still together) so well I am glad to report. But that is my pov; you’d have to ask my teammates about their perspective. For example, Molly mentioned very casually that sailors at sea developed scurvy because of a lack of citrus. That freaked me out so as soon as a market opened on Day 6 the very first thing I bought was not batteries, candles or matches, all of which we were low on, but two small-ish dented oranges. I hustled back to Command Center and displayed them carefully on the counter, so excited to be helping to stave off the dread condition. I was somewhat crushed to see the gesture greeted with some eyeball rolling…
Molly is a fantastic photographer and has taken some remarkable shots of Highlands and surrounding areas but it is frustrating because she can’t download them anywhere. When you see them you will marvel at their beauty and cry at the content.
We’ve heard some amazing stories. For example, my sister Cathy lives about five houses in from the sea. A neighbor right on the water had a grand piano in her living room — and unbelievably it disappeared! Nowhere in sight. As well, Sophie, her elderly neighbor, whose house has now all but disappeared had a very large, heavy stone statue of Buddha in her front garden. Our friend Jimmy Kaplow came down to Loch Arbour to help Cathy with the marathon job of starting the cleanout in her home and garden. One afternoon they took a walk and — in what can only be a miracle — Cathy spied the Buddha’s head in Deal Lake! The dredging guys were just about to scoop the area in which it was lodged — she and Jimmy screamed out and begged them to retrieve it. Which they did! Cathy called Sophie’s daughter and told her to tell her mother they found her Buddha.
btw, we only have done two of the lottery tickets, Win for Life and Great Big Bingo. We won $3. There are a few to go but I want to do them one at a time — if we lose power again, it will be something to look forward to!
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