For days before the storm the news and weather forecasters were in their glory- predicting a storm unlike any other. The convergence of a large tropical Hurricane from the south, the jet stream from the west, and an astronomical high tide were to blame.  Heed the warnings, evacuate if you are directed to do so, be safe, take no chances.  As the storm approached the warnings became more dire.

We live in a beautiful, waterfront, gated community in South Freeport, on Long Island. A bit of a sense of safety as prior Hurricane Irene, last year did briefly breach the bulkhead but the water did not reach or enter most of the complexes unit.  Some sense of safety also due to the statements made and repeated by a family member who was an engineer and always maintained that water would never enter our properties.

We packed up and left, fortunate to have shelter far from the water.  Before leaving we gathered cell phone numbers from several neighbors who intended to tough out the storm- tow of them had stayed a year ago during Irene and were confident.  "we'll be okay, see you soon."  We watched television and panic weather coverage ensued, all regular programming was curtailed.  On every station there were reporters at shore side sites and anchors at the stations coordinating the reports.  I kept in close contact with my neighbors, shooting off brief text message blurbs, waiting fearfully for return information.  "R U safe?"  "it is really bad, power off, water in every unit"  "It's scary here"  The storm where we were was bad but relatively mild- wind gusts but very little rain.  We maintained full power for much of the storm so we were able to watch the horrors unfolding around us.

A construction crane at the top of a NYC hi-rise building snapped and dangled: shore towns from North Carolina to Maine were being impacted, there were widespread power outages.  The storm raged throughout the night moving very slowly up the coast.  Two high tides with little water receding between.  The NYC subway system was shut down, all bridges and tunnels closed.. Oh my gosh what was happening. NY, NJ and CT all declared states of emergency.  Overnight more than one hundred homes in Breezy Point, evacuated for the storm burned to the ground with firefighters unable to reach them due to flooding from tidal surges.  Sand filled the streets in Jersey shore and south shore beach front communities, boardwalks are gone, boats are moved and are littering front lawns, porches... many boats have smashed into homes and buildings.  We hear all of this but the nightmare of the storm and it's destruction remain words without pictures.

Finally the storm subsides and we can return home to see what has happened.  Along the road during our return we see some evidence of the storm- trees uprooted, power lines down, branches down.  As we approach Freeport on the Meadowbrook Parkway there are lane closures and police are stationed at the Merrick Road exit.  I pull out my license, in case we need to show proof of address, but they accept our word about where we live.  We exit onto Merrick Road, there are no traffic lights, we must be extra vigilant as we turn onto Mill Road.  Stores are boarded up, the street has clearly been flooded with reeds and detritus covering the roadway.  We proceed slowly south turning onto Main Street and then Atlantic Avenue.  The dark 99cent store has a sign "we are open" Almost every other store appears abandoned, but the deli has a sign "F U Sandy, we are open for business."  we turn onto Guy Lombardo Avenue going south and begin to see the true wrath of this storm.  Boats have been tossed like toys, trees are broken and uprooted like match sticks.  We approach the Anchorage, our home, with trepidation, trees through the fence, boats from the marina strewn all around.  We pull up to the guard house entry and are amazed to see reeds and ocean debris everywhere.  Cars, which were parked in driveways during the storm have shifted locations vastly.  Dave's car is in his front garden, the windows of the car are wet with remnants of the water which flooded them. Rob's boat is partially sunken and impaled on a wooden piling.

We walk up our reed covered walkway to our front door.  The metal screen door is bent.  We open the front door and walk in to...


OMG silt covers everything.  The beige carpet is brown and wet.  Everything smells like seawater and wetness.  Thew water has risen to about three feet marking the walls and swirling in  and out tossing our belongings all around the floor.  The refrigerator has moved two feet forward.  The garage door is blocked  by debris, we cannot open it and stop trying after a few minutes.  I cannot breathe and the tears flow down my face.  HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?

All around the community there are others who are walking zombies, feeling numb and absolutely stunned and amazed by the power of this storm.  The power is out, the buildings are scarred... we cannot believe what we are seeing.