As you may have heard, a hurricane hit the Eastern Seaboard this past week. Because the storm’s arrival was widely publicized, my family was able to prepare. We filled the car with gas, took cash out of the bank, made a trip to the grocery store for essentials such as canned goods, mini jars of mayo, water, diapers, and lanterns. After that, we closed and locked every window in the house, moved and unplugged stuff in the basement in case the house flooded, and found the safest spots in the house. All of this groundwork didn’t prepare us for the basic absence of something we had come to take for granted in our lives: technology.
Sunday was relatively calm. Some early evacuation orders rolled through for different areas, including where my in-laws live. My immediate family slept in our own beds that night, and we woke up Monday morning to the sound of sirens. Winds were starting to gust, but not too badly. We let the kids watch TV, knowing it would be the last chance for electronic diversion for a while. At 10:30 AM the TiVo stopped working. The kids were quite upset as they wanted to watch She-Ra, but they had to settle for Cartoon Network instead. Poor little dears. At 11 AM, I got smart and decided we should bake cookies and make lunch before we lost power. As I walked into the kitchen, we lost power. But we were ready. Our family had filled bottles with water and put them in the freezer, and I purchased 750 matches. A gas stovetop comes in handy at times like these. As my husband pointed out, turning the burner to low reduces the chances of setting off little fire balls. I was worried about damage to the fuel line, so each time I needed to light the burner, I first checked that we had hot water, as the boiler runs on the same gas line.
We called the kids in and gave them lunch. There was no way I could ignite the oven, so I pan-fried cookies for them. I do not recommend doing that. Ever. To make the food last as long as possible, we sliced apples instead of handing one to each kid. Then, we hid the fruit so the kids couldn’t get into it. I’ve seen my children decimate eight apples in one afternoon. At this point, my nerves were a little frayed between my in-laws not leaving their home, the fire truck outside, and not knowing what was coming next.
After lunch and dessert, we got the kids busy opening blinds so we had light, and then settled in to draw in coloring books and read. As Sabbath observers, the kids are used to turning off the TV for hours at a time. We brought down pajamas, clothes, mattresses, blankets, and pillows from the bedrooms and ordered the kids to stay downstairs.
Our cell phones were fully charged, but some it was near impossible to connect with others due to fallen towers and overtaxed systems. We tried placing calls and texting people as well as getting online, but we couldn’t connect.
As dusk fell, things got trickier. The wind kicked up, and we had to start carrying flashlights and lanterns with us at all times. Our kids were playing in the den when the first tree fell. At that point, I moved the children to the safe spot where there were 1.) no external walls, 2.) no windows (see 1), and 3.) a second floor above us. My husband and I pulled out the big gun to soothe the kids during the storm when we set up a nook for them in the hallway so they could watch Cars on the travel DVD player. While they were watching the movie, my husband and I heard this weird popping noise, and the traffic light and streetlights went out. After the movie ended, and we brushed our teeth by lantern light using bottled water because the tap water was running a light shade of brown, and then shuffled the kids off to bed.
Suddenly, I heard this weird sound, almost like a huge plastic toy was being blown end to end through our dining room. We raced to check that the windows were still shut. When everything looked normal, I ventured into the den to try to see what was going on. I picked up a blind and saw branches against the glass. I was desperate to see what was going on, but it was pitch black at that point. We opted to go to sleep instead.
Tuesday morning came quickly. The kids were bored, the food in the fridge was a little less cool than it should have been, and I was jonesing to get out of the house. I pulled some ice from the freezer to keep the food cold and decided we were ready to check on our neighbors. We got the kids dressed and went to look at the trees that had fallen across our house.
Then, we walked houses down to our neighbors. As we got there, the wind started gusting again, so we ran home. We stayed inside until the winds had completely died down. I would have called a tree service to come help us, but our cell phones still weren’t working. Looking at my call history, I tried to reach my mother-in-law four times that morning and I called my sister 10 times before I got through.
Later that day, I found a cop on the street who had come off a carbon monoxide poisoning call. He came to our house and helped my husband break branches and move the tree enough that we could get the car out. We tried to drive four blocks to the grocery store, but there were trees down on every major street.
After 15 minutes, we finally found a safe route to the store. From there, we stopped at a friend’s house with a generator. We made plans to sleep there that night, because along with the loss of power came loss of heat.
On the way back home, we did a tour of the neighbor hood. I spoke to some crew members from National Grid who explained that with traffic lights and street lights out, the damage to the system was probably extensive. LIPA confirmed that it would be seven to ten days before our power would be restored. On that happy note, we went home, grilled some dinner, and drove over to our wonderful friends for the night.
On Wednesday, our synagogue threw together a program for the kids. As we returned to our house, I realized I didn’t want to get out of the toasty car and back into a freezing house. The house was 60 degrees when we left that morning, and the temperature was still dropping. After a two-minute deliberation, we decided to pack it in and go to Pennsylvania.
Driving on route 80 was a shocking experience.
We had so quickly adapted to the visuals of a post-Sandy world that we were confused when we saw open gas stations. When we realized we could use our cell phones, we checked in with our families to let everyone know where we were going. Driving into my h0metown last night, we pointed out the vista of all the houses and buildings with working lights.
“See that, kids? That’s why we’re here.”
So, what did I learn from this experience?
- I need to take a first-aid class; I can apply a tourniquet and probably do CPR, but my knowledge is super-shaky.
- Having grill ready items in the house for the first few days after a hurricane is a great idea; in the days before the storm, use up as much of your perishables as you can. We went into the storm without milk in the house.
- Have a lot of ice on hand.
- Think through the likely scenarios you’ll have to deal with. Will it flood? Will trees fall? Where will you be safe? Where will you go if you need to leave?
- Pack a water-tight bag of your most important papers and documents and put it in a packed suitcase so if you have to leave quickly, you can grab the bag and run.
- If you have young children with you during a storm, make it fun for them. We never make dessert or buy juice, but Sandy was all about juice with each meal, cookies, and cocoa. Our six year old was wigging out on Sunday, so I walked her through the safe spots and explained why they were safe. When she understood what was coming, she could deal with it.
- Write down emergency numbers before the storm. We had numbers for Nassau County and LIPA, but we should have also written down the number for our local police station.
- It’s not enough to think you have a radio that runs on batteries. Check that you do. Don’t be like the Bronsteins who had to go down to the car to listen to the radio to get news during the storm.
And most of all, if you get a mandatory evacuation order, GET OUT. If not just for the safety of you and your loved ones, think about the rescue workers who will risk themselves to save you. Just go.
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