Well, this is certainly not going to be a stretch of time that I will soon forget. Over the past few days, I’ve been smack in the middle of Hurricane Sandy’s wrath, close to the Delaware Bay and Atlantic Ocean where the storm was once expected to make landfall. Thankfully, we narrowly missed a direct hit from Hurricane Sandy (or Superstorm Sandy, depending who you ask) as it made landfall around Atlantic City, about 30 miles to our north.
Surprisingly, we only lost power for a few moments as the storm went through. We watched, thankfully with lamps on and movies playing, as limbs and campaign signs flew down the street and past our balcony windows. We experienced wind that sounded like a barrage of bombs, with the occasional gust that “BOOMED” our apartment throughout the past few days and nights. Surprisingly, we made it out large unscathed but with a bathtub full of water and a kitchen pantry full of canned goods.
Unfortunately, New York and New Jersey did not fare very well. And that’s where things get really, really sad. My childhood, as well as that of my friends, family members, and my significant other, is deeply rooted in the areas hardest hit by the storm. We spent summers in Brigantine, Long Beach, Atlantic City, Coney Island, and more. We took the subways through Manhattan to Brooklyn, enjoyed the sights, sounds and restaurants of Lower Manhattan, and looked forward to summers on the Jersey Shore.
The devastation wrought by this storm is heartbreaking to look at. It’s like seeing an entire childhood and young adulthood washed away. And we all can’t help but feel extremely sad for those whose homes and livelihoods were sent out to sea. K and I feel extremely lucky to have missed the worst of this storm, and we’ll be doing our best to help those who haven’t fared nearly as well.