Saturday, November 3, 2012


I want to begin my blog today with pictures of our home in Surf City to show how very lucky we were with Sandy. We had no damage at all, nor have we had in the great hurricanes of 1939, or 1944 or the '62 storm which devastated the island in places(sparsely populated as it was in those days). With all of the new construction during the past decades especially on our street we expected not to always be so fortunate - but we were. Our particular few blocks are one of the highest on the island.
These two photos I snapped 2 days after the storm and we had already had a chance to clean up branches, sand and small debris.
The day after Sandy had departed our area, our driveway only had wind blown sand (as did our upper deck) and leaves and berries from our large 70 year old holly tree.
For those who know our area, Oakie's bull toppled from the roof and lay on the ground with a broken horn. It was soon righted and became a great photo op for the firemen who were ever present.
After checking neighbors homes, we walked towards the bay to do the same for friends there. The water had backed up in the bay when the winds shifted and flooded the roads, along with a lot of mud. Clean up wouldn't be easy.
Trucks were already coming around picking up debris that had floated into the street.
Walking back to the boulevard a few street further south, we saw stores with boarded windows that had memorable signs.
As the blue sky came out momentarily a rainbow appeared briefly over the stores.
Walking back to the ocean the sky had darkened again, and the waves were still strong.
Having heard that the ocean had breached the dunes 2 streets north of us on 24th, I walked there to see what had happened. The street itself by the boulevard (the central street on our 3 block wide barrier island) was a mess of sand and mud.
The old dune had essentially disappeared, as Nick, my sister's grandson stood on what was left.
The home that was built further out from its neighbors to get the best view paid dearly for the privilege. The ocean had undermined the lower floor, pavers that had previously led to the garage were scattered everywhere, and the steps that had led from the deck to the beach were ending mid air.
This is what was left of the ample dunes at the end of the street.
The beach itself had been lowered to the back sand layer left during the oil deposited during World War II when I was a child here, and across its surface flew clusters of white foam from the surf.
Walking back home I was again greeted with the "Island Lake" across the boulevard.

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