My Sister

    My younger sister and I have a completely typical sister relationship. I say typical because, well, its the only sister relationship I have. So it must be typical, right?
    I am 5 and a half years older than her. When she was born, I was in Kindergarten. I truly believed that my mother had her for me. Right away, she was MY baby. Although she was too little to actually play, I found ways. What must be true of many older sisters was true of me. I made her my doll. I dressed her up, carried her around, fed her and took responsibility for all things concerning her.
     As we grew, we were not as close as I had hoped. It wasn't any one's fault, it was just the logical progression of our relationship. As she was becoming school aged, I was heading into middle school. I had friends, school and interests that did not include a 5 year old tagging along. We were still sisters. I always loved her, but we were not friends.
     We tried to find common interests, and we amazingly landed on one while she was in middle school and I was in high school. Strangely enough, we discovered we both had an affinity for spider-themed movies. Creepy? Yes! But it brought us together in a way that we had not been in a decade.
      Once we discovered a common interest, we began to get along better. It wasn't always easy. We shared a room for the better part of our lives, and we had very different ideas about everything...room decor, music, TV, even who should or should not be allowed into our room. Boyfriends just made it more difficult.
      Well, eventually, I moved out. Got married. Started a family. She moved out. Went to Law School. Graduated. Got married. Started a family. Again we tried, but we were still not each others best friend. We had our own social circles. We knew many of each other's friends. We got along with them. It was casual.
     A few years back, we had the kind of fight only sisters can have. It was nasty. Feelings were hurt, the past was brought up and dissected. Names were called. It got...ugly. We decided that the best way to deal with each other was  not to. We stopped speaking. For almost 2 years.
     It was not easy. My oldest son asked for her ALL THE TIME.  Our mother had a recurrence of cancer and had another surgery. She got pregnant and had her daughter. Our nephew made Bar Mitzvah. Still we did not speak. That is not to say we didn't KNOW about each other. We got parental updates, whether asked for or not. Was it strange? Yes. Was it painful? Yes. Were we both too damned stubborn to give in and apologize? Of course!
      It took something tragic to bring us back together. A family friend lost her daughter in a terrible accident, and we both went to the wake. At first we avoided each other. Then our dad intervened and asked us to at least stand together. That standing together lead to a hug, which lead to a long talk. Fast forward 1 week, and her husband fell ill. He wound up dealing with a long term situation, and she had a newborn! I tried to be there for her through it. We hadn't spoken in so long that we both needed to process our new relationship and it was too soon to act as if nothing had happened.
    Well, luckily, her husband came through it all, and her life got back to normal. Over the last 2 years, we have worked hard to be in each other's lives. We make an effort that neither of us ever had before. Our kids know each other, and that's priceless.
    When SSS hit, she was of major concern to me. I knew her house had flooded before and that she could sustain damage. I was NOT prepared for her to lose her entire house. Well, neither was she, obviously. I called and texted her repeatedly during the storm, and was relieved that she had a friend to evacuate to.
      If anything positive has come from what we went through (and really, something positive needs come out of it), it's that we are closer than we have ever been in our lives. Yes, it's true. It took an act of mother nature herself for my sister and I to become not just sisters, but friends. We confide in each other now. We call in the middle of the day just to say "hi". We get excited for little things together. I have the sister I have always wanted.
  Is our relationship perfect? Nope. Never will be. Wouldn't expect it to be. But I can honestly say that the baggage is gone. I do not resent her, hold a grudge or need an apology or an explanation for petty or perceived wrongs. They don't matter. What does matter is that she and her family are alive, safe and rebuilding. And I can be here for her, whenever she needs.
      Since they are living out of a temporary FEMA relocation motel, she and her family have to eat out 3 times a day. I would love to have them here for meals, but that's not even plausible. They are far enough away to make traveling here everyday time consuming and expensive. So, I am feeding them when I can, through gift cards. Not a lot, but it's something. And it's healing. For me, for them.
     Recently, she was the recipient of a great act of kindness. She deserves the good, and will overcome the bad. She is stronger than I could ever be.
     I am very proud of her. She has accomplished so much. She is a successful mommy, wife, attorney, daughter, sister...and friend.

My baby sis. Isn't she pretty?

Pizza D'Amore continues to accept donations for food for the families of Rockaway. This past weekend we set two deliveries out, feeding 40 people.

Call 718-531-2333 and tell them that you want to donate to the Rockaway food deliveries.

Daydreams and Nightmares

     My life has become a series of realities and fantasies, but I think of it as a series of Daydreams and Nightmares. I'll start with the daydreams. There are the same ones I would guess that everyone has had at some point or another:

1. A long lost relative dies peacefully in his sleep at the age of 112. He has lived a long and happy, yet frugal life. He has amassed a grand fortune and has bequeathed it to little ole me. I am saddened by his death, but will honor his wishes and take the money. It's only right. He wanted me to have it.  I use it to help many SSS victims.
2. Oprah invites me to sit in the audience for one of her shows. At the end, she does a big reveal and I am given a Brand. New. Car! (All taxes included, of course)
3. I buy a single lottery ticket on a whim with the change I have from the milk I just purchased. Later that night I find out that I am the sole winner of the $xxx million jackpot! I buy everyone everything, but especially my sister, who gets a brand new house filled with Spider-Man toys for my nephew!
4. A generous yet anonymous benefactor parks a car tied with a ribbon outside my house and leaves the key in the mailbox. No note, but the title is in my name.
5. I actually DO have a fairy godmother. She was just taking a long nap!
And finally...
6. I Really AM the descendant of that Nigerian Prince and all those emails that I have ignored over the last 10 years were true and I FINALLY get my rightful fortune. Ha! I just knew it!!
    OK, so I am aware that what I wrote above is pure fiction, with the exception of a 1 in 8 billion chance of hitting the lottery (if I actually played) none of the aforementioned scenarios have a remote chance of happening.
    What is happening however, is my living nightmare. The nightmare I like to call "Dealing with FEMA" or "Why Innocent People Are Still Living On The Street With No Walls, No Heat Or Electricity When They Own Their Own Homes". Let me explain.
      FEMA stands for Federal Emergency Management Agency. So right away, you know you are dealing with a bureaucracy rife with red tape,  hoops to jump through and double speak. Since the storm struck, there have been tons of rumors about what FEMA will or will not do. I did not expect a miracle from them. I did not expect charity nor did I expect to make money off of this situation. I did, foolishly, expect for the process to be straightforward and approachable for a person of average intelligence. (me)
     If you have never had to deal with FEMA, congratulations! I mean that. I honestly hope you never have to. But if you have, you may want to skip this next part. It will give you flashbacks.
     I will preface this by saying that this is MY take on things as I have come to understand them in the last month. If I get a fact wrong (which I most likely will), please forgive me. A I stated, it's not easy.
      You are struck by a disaster of some sort. You lose some sort of property, i.e.  home, car, personal belongings, and you need financial assistance from the government. Once your  area is officially declared a disaster area by the government, FEMA is able to step in start accepting claims.
       So, you call the FEMA hot line. A voice prompt answers the call. You have to listen to a 4 minute (I am not exaggerating) greeting, telling you which FEMA rumors are false. For example, FEMA does not give you $300 for food. That's a Facebook rumor.  Once you have listened to all 4 minutes, you are treated to the exact same message repeated en espanol. 8 minutes, gone.
         Once the greeting has ended, you listen to a long menu of  choices of where to direct your call. Once you choose your option, you have to input your zip code. My guess is this is done to confound those people who live outside the disaster area from filing a false claim. I could be wrong, but those scoundrels who flood their own houses and cars or ruin all their belongings just for the fun of dealing with FEMA MUST be stopped!
     Once you get to the correct place, lets say, filing a new claim, you get a lovely operator. My first operator was Vanessa. She was as patient and calm and as warm as a spring morning. I hated it! I was in turmoil. I needed someone to yell at. I could not yell at Vanessa. Darn it!
      Vanessa proceeded to take all of my information. She gave me a long list of things that I would need to gather for FEMA to prove I actually : a) owned the cars I was claiming, b) said cars were actually disabled permanently and  c) I was actually financially unable to replace them myself. Luckily, I have every piece of paper that I ever got (not really, but close) and I was able to gather those things up within a day.
      Then, Vanessa explained to me that FEMA (and this is an actual quote)  "won't just give me no money".  Double negative aside, I took that to mean that they aren't a charity nor do they hand out money willy-nilly. That's fine. I wasn't looking for charity or to get over on anyone, much less Uncle Sam.
     As Vanessa explained the process, FEMA takes your information and then waits for you to support your claim. They send you packets to fill out through snail mail. I kid you not when I say that you need advanced degrees to just navigate some of the paperwork. (The verbiage is verbose and pedantic).You have to send all types of documentation, and eventually a case worker will come out and see the damage for him or herself. Once that is done, you wait some more. Then the phone calls start. You get any combination of: an intake officer, an application reviewer, a damage assessor, a loan officer, a case worker, a grant officer, a claim reviewer (each who will call you either while at work and unable to take the call, or while you are eating and have to leave your one hot meal for the day) and finally, if you are lucky, a check of some sort.
     It was explained to me that FEMA has limited funds (obviously) and most people will not receive actual money from FEMA. Due to insurance coverage, the majority of homeowners will not see a red penny from the FEMA funds. Those who are not insured will only get money if they have exhausted all other avenues of revenue. One of those avenues is the SBA, Small Business Association, which is the lending arm of disaster relief.  (Please do not confuse them with SBA, Small Business Association, the lending arm for small business loans. They are different entities. Huh.) They underwrite very low cost loans. Which you have to pay back. If you qualify. Vanessa informed me that I DO NOT want to qualify. This way, I may qualify for a grant from FEMA. Or not. Whatever.
    Fast forward, when I received the paperwork on my initial FEMA claim, the information was wrong. Blatantly wrong. So wrong that I didn't think it was my claim. I called to change the info. The very nice person I spoke to told me that we should start from scratch, and she would refile the paperwork using my same claim number. So we did. Then I got the new paperwork. Guess what...
It was STILL wrong. But she read it all back to me on the phone, when it was correct. Sigh.
    27 days in and the nightmare continues... 

   

Being Thankful

   So after the turkey and potatoes and bread and corn and stuffing and dessert are gone, we are all left with full bellies, but hopefully fuller hearts. I spent Thanksgiving Day with part of my family. My sister and her husband and children were not there, and they were missed. They are still dealing with the mess left behind by the storm. We missed them, but we were glad they had somewhere to go, with friends who welcomed them as family.
   I thought long and hard about this post. I want to express all the right ideas and emotions, without being sappy or cliche. It's not easy. Obviously, I am thankful for my husband, kids, siblings, parents, and friends. I am thankful for the continuing health of my family. I am thankful we are all safe and have survived a terrible ordeal intact. I am thankful for the support of  family, friends and even strangers in the days and weeks since the hurricane. I am thankful for a warm bed to sleep in and food to feed my family.
    But there is so much more I am thankful for. One major thing in that category is my job. Not just having a job. I know that is a blessing in this economy, and many wish they had a job, any job. But, I am thankful that I am a teacher, in my school, with my class. After the storm, I was so happy to return to work. I heard people express relief to be back, to have a place to go. I was grateful to have THAT place to go. With warm, loving people who actually care about one another. With children who are happy to see me and I to see them.
      Background: Over the years, I have dealt with the pain of a chronic back problem. From time to time, I get flare-ups that literally paralyze me. I can not move part of my body, usually my neck and arms, for hours and sometimes days.
    Unfortunately, I had an occurrence on Sunday morning. As usual, it came from out of the blue, with no advance warning. My husband attributes it to stress. He may be right. I have never gotten a solid physiological reason from my doctors. I was in agony. It scares my children when it happens, so I try my best to find another excuse to be in bed all day long. (My excuses are transparent, they always know.) So, I did my usual routine of  heating pad, muscle relaxers and anti- inflammatory. This time, the pills did nothing to help the pain, but they did serve to make me dizzy and nauseous. Fun!
     For some unknown reason, I actually thought I would be able to go into work on Monday. (Have I told you I am ridiculously stubborn?) When I woke up in the morning, I knew that getting out of bed was impossible, so getting to school and caring for 27 kids was, well, out of the question. Of course, my students know nothing about my back issues. Why would they? But they knew that I wasn't in school. That bothered them. A lot.
     Luckily, by Tuesday morning, the meds did what they were supposed to and I was up and out the door on time. When my students saw me, the looks of joy and relief on their faces were priceless. Dare I say, worth the pain?
     So the things I am thankful in my life are numerous, and maybe a little sappy, definitely cliche. They are my reality. I could sit and feel sorry for myself for the pain I have to endure, the reason which elude myself and much of the medical profession. I could complain that I am underpaid and overworked, as most people are. I can even complain that I am still dependent on others for rides home each day.
     Instead, I chose to be thankful for my chosen career path and for the  people it brings me into contact with every single day.

From a recent fortune cookie

 

 

A good friend saw a video that I made in my quest to raise more money for food for the Rockaway families. She nominated me for a cash prize in an "random Acts of Kindness" video contest. it's a popular vote type of thing. A youtube "thumbs up" equals a vote. check out the video, and if you like, please give it a vote. Thanks!

http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DY-03YpjcR-U%26feature%3Dplcp&h=4AQGynDAw

 

 

Don't forget, Pizza D'Amore is still accepting donations.

718-531-2333

7 days a week 11 a.m thru 10 p.m.

Rebuilding

   Around here, rebuilding means many things. Some people are rebuilding their homes. Some are rebuilding their businesses. Many are rebuilding their communities. Still others are rebuilding themselves. The destruction took a toll on everyone here. There are those who scoff at the ones who "only lost electricity" or "just lost a car". We all lost, and we all have to find our own way back to normal, in our own time.
     I am eternally grateful that I "only" lost cars, personal property and heat and hot water. I have so much that I did not not lose. I did not lose my family, my hope or my job. I still have a place to go and focus each day. I still have a place to come home to and lay my head. And, I still have the people I most treasure to laugh and cry with. Yes, it's been hard. No, I am not perfect. Far from it. I get jealous and petty at times, just like everyone else.
    Everyday, people surprise me with their humanity, humility and resilience. People pitching in to rebuild not only their own homes but those of families, friends and strangers. People donating food, supplies and time to make our beloved city whole once more. I hope that my small crusade to feed the families of the Rockaway peninsula (and Gerritsen Beach last week) has made a difference in someone's life.
    If you believe in Karma, and I do, you will know that when you do good, it comes back to you in spades. This past week, I posted a project request on DonorsChoose.org for adaptive seating for 3  of my students. The project cost over $425. I was not really too sure that it would get funded. There are so many DonorsChoose.org projects. There are so many worthy classroom ideas, and so many students hit hard by the Hurricane. I really didn't think that my project would get much notice. Well, amazingly and shockingly, my project got funded in less than a week! Several of the donors were parents from my class, which was amazing, generous and unnecessary, but fully appreciated. Other donors wrote that they wanted to help students with special needs. (Let's face it, we ALL have special needs at some point in our lives.) And the final donors wanted to help SSS victims. Wow. What awesome people in this world! Karma? You bet!
    As the weeks progress, my family is rebuilding as well. I was having nightmares, waking up screaming. I believe they have passed now. My sons seem happier, and they are relieved to be back in their routines. The kindness of my coworkers that continue to drive us home each day can never be repaid, but I will try.
   The good news is that my husband was able to purchase an old car from a friend. Is it new? Nope. Is is pretty? Pretty Ugly. Is it fuel efficient? Was the space shuttle? But, it is transportation to get the family moving and independent again. More rebuilding. More moving in a positive direction.
We are healing.

 

To help send food to displaced families and volunteers, call

Pizza D'Amore (718) 531-2333.

Donations are always gratefully accepted.

 

To help classrooms affected by SSS go to http://www.donorschoose.org/sandy?max=50

 

 

Next: ??

After Effects and Back to School

   Thus far, I have been writing this in chronological order, based on my personal experiences. While I was focused on my own little world, so many other things were going on.
   My sister's family was now, for all intents and purposes, homeless. Although much of their house still stands, they will never be able to live in it again. Too much damage. Through the kindness of her friends, they did not have to go to a homeless shelter or live on the street. Obviously, I was terribly concerned about them, but she was trying to make the best of it for her kids. I would have welcomed them into my home, no questions asked. Glad she had choices and made the one best for her family.
    My brother's family lived with our parents for a week. Finally, their electricity, along with heat, returned and they were able to go home. That was a relief. You do what you can for family, but people want their own space. Kids need to be in their own schools and in regular routines whenever possible. And, my mother, as a 4 time cancer survivor, needed her privacy as well.
     My friends were still living together. Part of my friend Lauren's house will be saved, and the rest will be gutted and redone. They still do not have heat or hot water, but they have an alternate, comfortable place to stay and the 2 older children are in their own schools. Other friends are pitching in to help care for her youngest during the workday.
     Our friend Lisa is amazing! Not only did she welcome Lauren and her family in with open arms, she also welcomed many other displaced souls. When the need is high, people show their true colors. Lisa is the truest of the blue, with a golden heart.
     During the darkest days following SSS, I learned through Facebook that my younger son's former nursery school had been flooded, and therefore destroyed. I cried for that loss. It was a warm, loving place for him while he attended. We know and love the owner and her assistants. We see them around the neighborhood often, and we always stop to chat. Although my children are far too old to attend anymore, just the thought of that school not existing for other children was heartbreaking. Through the goodness of her current and former students' parents, the school will reopen. She has arranged to hold her classes temporarily in an local dance studio. Parents are donating books, toys, furniture, you name it, to help get the school back up and running! It feels like victory!
     Many of my coworkers suffered devastating loss. A close friend of mine lost a lifetime full of memories of her deceased husband. It was like losing him all over again. Her basement flooded and she lost priceless, irreplaceable photographs of her parents and grandparents. Beyond heartbreaking.
     Another friend lost 3 cars and the bottom portion of her house. Til today, she still has not had electricity, heat or hot water restored. How does a family live like this? Her biggest concern? Her small dog. How will he stay warm when the temperature drops? Selfless.
     I learned that a coworker with an empty apartment in her house opened her door to dozens of people. She offered a warm place to stay and a hot shower to use. Indefinitely. Beautiful.
     Still thousands of others, who I do not know, but feel a kinship with, suffer. Many areas that were hit by SSS have unsafe water. Can't drink it, can't bathe in it. Not safe to boil, even if they had stoves to use. The Red Cross has been delivering clean drinking water to these areas. Scary.
     These are just a small glimpse of the outside world in the week following SSS. I knew some of this, but not most. People were just starting to come back together and exchange "war stories". That's exactly what it felt like, war. One coworker actually shipped her daughter to Nashville, to stay with relatives, while the house was still unlivable. She and her husband could be flexible and deal, but they would not expect it of their 9 year old. She needed stability and fun. And a warm bed. And hot meals. Her parents know this is temporary, and the best situation they can give their child right now. Responsible.
       I was both excited and nervous to return to school and be with my students on Monday. I was anxious to see that they were all OK, both mentally and physically. I wanted them to know that whatever they had endured, I would help them through. But, as I said, I was nervous. Would I cry in front of them? I would try not to. Would they all return? I was praying they would.
     As class started that first morning back, I was quite relieved to see most of those smiling faces sitting right where they belonged. I was concerned for the  ones that didn't return. My anxiety was soon quelled by the other students. They had stories of their own, but the most important ones to me were the ones telling me that my five absent students were A-Okay. The usual stomach bugs, runny noses and in one case, a long planned family vacation, kept them away. What a relief!!
      The war stories from the kids were heartbreaking...again. They told tales of lost cars, homes, personal belongings and businesses. But, the silver lining in that cloud was that families were still intact and they were all still going to be in our class through the end of the year. It felt so good, so NORMAL to be back with my students. I was there to listen. If they needed to cry, I held the tissues. We laughed, too. That's what children do. The day flew by. I was continuing to heal.
      As I met coworkers in the hallways and the office, the stories were more of the same. People had family that were effected by the storm. Everyone had lost something in the storm, even if it was just electricity. The most overriding fear was the lack of gas. People travel to work by car. How long could they continue to come in to work if there was no gas to buy?
      We still had no car. It wasn't the end of the world, but it presented difficulties. I was dreading walking my sons over a mile each morning, through the tree strewn streets, to school. As I have said before, the goodness of people just can not be measured. Two mommies from my older son's class volunteered to pick me and my children up in the mornings and drive us to school! Wow! Now, I would normally beg off. I wouldn't want to put them out. But, because my children would benefit, I happily accepted. Of course, because they both drive large SUVs, now my sons want that to replace our sedans that were destroyed. Tough luck, kids.
   Through all this, Pizza D'Amore continued to accept donations for food deliveries. They even stepped into the action. They began asking their customers to donate some as well. Many did. There would be more food for Rockaway! In all so far, we had made 6 hot food deliveries and have provided hundreds of meals. Nice.
     Just to make matters a bit worse, a snowstorm was heading our way. People were living in ruined homes, without heat. People were living without walls or roofs. The nights were pitch black. Looters and gas pirates were rearing their ugly, selfish heads. Snow was not a good idea! How much more could everyone take?

10 days after then storm, the electric company finally arrives on our block.

 

 

Some Rockaway kids enjoying the Pizza D'Amore fare on Sunday night.

Update: I saw a repost on Facebook tonight. One of the Gerritsen Beach, Brooklyn residents was requesting hot food for the families and volunteers in the area. They are still without heat, electricity and hot water. Thanks to your contributions, we will be sending them 10 pizzas and bottled drinks tomorrow evening. So glad to be able to help!! 

Next: Rebuilding

Call Pizza D'Amore to help feed displaced families and their wonderful volunteers! 718-531-2333

Getting My Power Back

    After the storm, I felt powerless. I am used to doing. Doing for my family, doing for myself. I have literally been working since I was 12 years old. No kidding. I worked to put myself through college. I paid for my own wedding. It made me feel in control that I was the one doing for me, not asking others for anything, ever.  Well, except for donations for causes. That was not for me. That was to help others.
    But now, I was powerless. My cars were gone and many of my family's possessions were gone, and I can not easily replace any of them. Powerless.
    The one constant I have had in my life has always been my words. A doctor once told me I am the most mentally healthy person he has ever met. (I doubt that) Why? Because, he said, I can precisely express every single emotion. Every one. And I do. Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves. I wear my heart, my liver, my kidneys...
     Although I have the gift of gab, I was not speaking. I was yelling. At everyone. I was crying, all the time. Yes, I stopped for a day or so, but then I got the insurance denials and the tears came back. Powerless.
     My close friends and family would call, and it was the same conversations over again. My heart ached for them. They told their stories. They needed to. I can't say I blame them. We had all been through so much. Everyone wanted to talk about it, but nobody had the strength to listen. I always joke that I believe I have adult ADD, because as soon as people start repeating themselves, I tune out. I have realized that we all do it. Who wants to hear the same things again and again? Well, except for good music.
   But I needed my words back. I needed to be heard. So, I started writing. Just for me. If the words were caught in my throat, maybe they would come out of my fingers. As soon as I started typing, I felt renewed. Now, I had 2 foci. The food delivery to The Rockaways and my story. My text. Again, I realized that the power was within me. Wonderwoman and Batgirl may just live again.
     I wanted to be heard. If I published the words, would anybody read them? Well, if you are out there reading them, Thank you.

More food for the Rockaways.

Families and volunteers gathered to watch the football game and take a rest.

So glad we could help!

Next: After Effects and Back to School

Getting Food to the Hungry

    So now that I had a mission and money to see it through, it seemed to me as the outcome was obvious. The restaurant will cook, package and deliver the food, my generous donors and I will pay for the food and the displaced families will eat the food. Well, it sorta wasn't working out that way.
    I began my food delivery donation drive out of pure selfishness. I wanted to feel better. I wanted to HEAL. I needed to heal my own damaged spirit. I needed to heal my family. I needed to heal my community. The best and most direct route to healing I ever learned from my  mother was "eat something, you'll feel better." I wanted other people to eat something so I would feel better. Selfish, but true.
     Saturday progressed nicely with donations. People were hopping on the call-in bandwagon and we were ready to roll. But wait! Who was accepting the food once it got to the Rockaways? My first idea, the idea I BELIEVED we were going with, was "just go there, and give it to people who needed it". Not such a great idea. The entire Peninsula was blacked out. People were sitting in dark, damaged and cold homes. They were afraid for their safety. They were just NOT going to open their doors to a random stranger with a pizza box! What was I thinking?
      I contacted a friend who had a summer home in Breezy Point. (notice my use of the past tense. Another total loss.) I asked her if she had a contact who was still there, and willing to accept the delivery for us. She was looking into it. Now I was nervous. Lots of money for food, lots of food to be eaten, no one to eat it. Yikes. Not what I had planned.
     I started trolling Facebook. Most of the posts in my news feed now were about displaced families and the plight of the New York neighborhoods where they just so recently called home. Although my focus was on the Rockaway Pennisula, I can not stress enough how MANY surrounding neighborhoods were devastated. In Brooklyn alone, there was Coney Island, Brighton Beach, Gerritsen Beach, Manhattan Beach and Sheepshead Bay. Entire neighborhoods, once full of beautiful homes, proud residents, thriving businesses and sacred places of worship, now in ruins. People were choosing their focus and heading out to help.
    Again, I was selfish. I needed to help. Now! I noticed a post on Facebook saying that the local church in Belle Harbor, a neighborhood a few miles from Breezy Point, was open and accepting people for the night. BINGO! Not only did I know exactly where the church was, I have several friends who live in that neighborhood. Whether or not they were there, I could help their friends and family.
    As I was sitting idly and trying to figure out WHAT I was sending in food and WHEN we were going to send it, I got a simultaneous Facebook message and phone call, from the same person. My friend Melissa was online and on the line. She was imploring me to get a move on with the food.
    The storm did not directly effect her immediate comfort. She was safely in North Carolina. She had heat, hot water and electricity, but she was frantic. "Please get those people food, Ellen. They need it tonight. Stop planning and do it!"
    Umm, wow. Yep. She was completely right. The longer I planned to send the food, the longer it took for the food to get there.
     I called the pizza place. Now I, and they, had our marching orders: Deliver 20 pizzas and 3 cases of water to St. Francis Church now. Right now. Go! People are hungry!

The Pizza D'Amore delivery man making his first of many runs

 

   And it was done! 20 pizzas and 3 cases of clean water delivered at 7:00 pm to hungry, cold, tired residents of the Rockaways! It felt amazing. Best I had felt in an entire week! And, as if by sheer willpower of spirit, my heat and hot water were finally turned on! Yay! That was the BEST shower of my entire life! I felt like I was washing away the evil of SSS and starting fresh. For 10 minutes.



    The thing that stuck with me the most was that we could do more. In just two days, we had collected enough money to feed 20 people a warm and comforting meal. We needed to keep this going. I was healing, and healing others, in a small way.
     I still had a long way to go. I was warm, clean, fed, but not happy. Not content. I still did not feel whole. I needed my power back. Not my electricity, my inner power. My Wonderwoman. My Batgirl. So, I needed to write.

Next: Getting My Power Back

A Sunny Saturday Dawns

    It's Saturday, the sun is out and my children need attention. I need my children. I have been so wrapped up in first feeling sorry for myself, then in getting money for food deliveries, that my children and I were disconnected. Unacceptable. When I think of who I am, I think "mommy, wife, teacher" in that exact order. It was time to get back to my priorities.
    We decided to go for a walk. It wasn't too cold, not too windy. We were going to have to make walking our primary mode of travel for the foreseeable future. No time like the present to start.
     We started walking with no set goal in mind. We wanted to  just get back out in the world, be together and see the neighborhood. As we walked we noticed the progress of the clean-up effort. Our community had pulled together to pull us out of the misery that we had settled into.
     We passed local stores, all closed due to storm damage, power outages or both. Sad. Nowhere to stop and buy a newspaper or snack. We walked the mile to our school, the school where I have worked for 19 years, and my sons both attend. It is a second home to our family. It was Saturday, so it was closed. It had been closed all week long, as all New York City public schools had been. No power, no gas, no school buses running. It was another place that we needed to get back to. I was hoping that my students were all safe and warm. Couldn't wait until Monday!
       We walked around the block to Pizza D'Amore. I was amazed to learn that we had collected over $300 in such a short time. The manager was thrilled, and suggested we keep it going. He said that they had wanted to do something for the families, but they weren't sure what they could do. Now, they had a mission and a goal. Feed the families of the Rockaways. Yay! However, as of yet, nothing had been delivered. They had no one to take it there yet. No gas. No deliveries. More frustration.
      I asked my boys if they wanted to stay and eat lunch. Nope! Not hungry. I found this hard to believe, because my boys are ALWAYS hungry. Maybe the stress was taking a toll on them, too. More reason for me to worry. We continued to walk. Massive trees lay across the side streets. None looked as if they had done much damage to cars or people, thank goodness, but they were still there as a looming reminder of the horror we had all faced.
     The gas stations along our route had lines 8 or 9 blocks long. Good thing I didn't have a car, I guess. I would be be walking anyway.
      We wound up a half mile further away, at our local mall. As soon as we walked through the door, my boys were hungry. For pizza. It figures. Nice to be normal. We ate and drank and chatted, among other families seeking a few hours of escape from the despair and destruction so many were facing. I have never had such an awareness of the burdens that my fellow New Yorkers were facing.
     The boys and I walked more. We walked around the mall. We saw people sitting at charging stations kindly set up by mall management. They had their cell phones, tablets and laptops. Most still wore their coats, although the mall was a comfy 70 degrees. Probably an inner chill from the shock that they all had just endured. There was also a blood drive in progress. The storm had caused a major blood shortage in the tri-state area. I considered donating. Really, I did. I just didn't think with the stress I had been under and my children along, it was an appropriate time. I will do it in a few weeks. Blood is always needed.
     As we began to walk home, I could see the fatigue my children were feeling, but were not complaining about. I felt guilty. These were children who were used to a 2 car family, never having the need to walk if we could drive. Was this a good life lesson? Sure. Was it a lesson I wanted to teach under such trying circumstances? Not on a bet. I was hoping that they could make it the rest of the way.
    The next thing that happened renewed my faith both the goodness of my fellow human beings and in Karma, the belief that when you do good, you get good. A mom from our school, a lady I had met and chatted with casually, happened to be passing by. She stopped her car and "ordered" us in. She wouldn't think of making us walk. Nice. I would have made it home, no problem. My boys? I wasn't too sure. Things were looking up.



a tree in front of our local temple ripped out of the ground in the storm

Next: Getting food to the hungry

Here is a video done by ABC News and Elizabeth Vargas about Breezy Point. Heartbreaking.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbMX2A545Wo&feature=player_embedded


Visit my Adopt-A-Classroom Page to help students in need:

http://www.adoptaclassroom.org/classroomdonation/results_teacher.aspx?classroomid=45469

Inspiration

    As I read my Facebook newsfeed, I noticed several posts from a childhood friend. She was helping to spread the word that a pizza place in Staten Island, another borough which is just over the bridge from my home in Brooklyn, was accepting donations for pizzas to be delivered to families in the flooded areas of their community. Hmmm...I could donate a pie. I can, at the very least, afford $8. (a very discounted price!) 
    I went to get my credit card to make the call and I stopped cold. Here was my exact thought process:
     "Yum pizza. I like pizza. It's so cold in here, hot pizza would be really good. When is the heat coming back on? I wonder if Pizza D'Amore is delivering. I wonder if Pizza D'Amore will deliver to Breezy Point and Rockaway (two communities just 7 miles from my home and over a different bridge)? I bet they are all cold. Maybe I should call and find out."
       So, I called Pizza D'Amore. It took a few minutes for the waitress to understand what I was asking, "Will you let people call in from all over the country and donate money so we can deliver food to the families in Breezy Point and Rockaway that are homeless?". After consulting her manger, they gave me the green light.
      I will interrupt my own narrative here to give you some background. For the past 3 years, I have been networking through Facebook with a large teacher community. We live all over the United States. We teach the spectrum of grades, abilities and specialties. Most of us met because of our affiliation with an online educational charity*.
     Over the years we have known one another, we have posted information about various activities in our lives. We often ask for small donations for charities or activities we are involved with. The majority of the community members are more than generous. We support each other. It was time to ask for their support again. I posted this message :
      "Hey friends. Many people from here have reached out to me offer support and in a few instances, have actually offered to send food and/or money. You can not believe how touched by love that makes me feel. I know many of you want to help in some way, but feel powerless. There is an online outpouring of love right now for all of the communities hit so hard. One of our teacher friend's community was devastated. Entire blocks of families are living in the streets on the ashes of what used to be their homes. In some cases, these homes have literally been in their families for generations. Anyway, there is a pizza place nearby that accepts credit cards over the phone and will deliver food to a random family in need. If anyone is interested in donating a pie or salad or sandwich, inbox me and I will send you the info. If many people are interested, I will post the info here. No pressure, no worries. Thank you for just being here for me right now. :-) ♥"

    The communities that I was referring to not only suffered from the effects of SSS, but over 150 of their homes burned down during the storm. A large majority of the residents here are first responders. As their own homes burned, they were out in the streets in other neighborhoods saving other people's homes and lives. How do I allow them to go hungry?

   Next, I headed to Twitter and tweeted my appeal. Even if I didn't raise a single dime, I had 2 goals in mind. First, no matter what, I was going to send a pizza to someone in need. And second, I WAS DOING SOMETHING! I believe strongly in the simple philosophy that you can either sit around wishing you could do something or you can actually DO SOMETHING. 
    I reached out to a Twitter friend to retweet my appeal. This way, more people would see what I was trying to do. Maybe it would help. I am honored to say that this Twitter friend, who is most generous, but prefers to remain anonymous to his benefactors, was my first donor! He had supported many of my educational projects in the past. I shouldn't have been surprised. 
    After that, the response was, well, nothing short of phenomenal. Right away, people were requesting that I post the info publicly. From there, it just steam rolled. By the end of the first night, we had collected about $250 in phoned in donations from across the country, in increments of $10 to $50. People donated from Texas, California, North Carolina, New Jersey, Indiana and Missouri, just to name a few! I was pumped! I had a mission and and I had my voice back. People were FINALLY listening to me again!
   When I called Pizza D'Amore, they were slammed! Between the phone ringing off the hook for donors and the restaurant being jam packed (it was one of the only restaurants open in our area), they were unable to do a large order right then. I was disappointed, but I know the money was "on account", and it was getting late. I wasn't sure who would even be around to accept the food so late in the evening. Tomorrow was another day.
   I finally slept. And I didn't cry.

Next: A Sunny Saturday Dawns

We are still accepting donations of any size.
The NY area is expecting a snowstorm tomorrow. These people need our support!

Please call Pizza D'Amore at (718) 531-2223.

Ask for Glenn or Tayla.

Tell them Ellen Goodman told you to call to donate to the food for Rockaway.

Here are the families that we are helping. Katie Couric did this piece. It is no coincidence that she is focused here, they need help!
http://bcove.me/3fm9l675    

     

*We are teacher members and donors of www.DonorsChoose.org
DonorsChoose.org  is an olnline charity that connects ordinary citizen donors to classrooms in need. Donors get to choose the classrooms/projects that they support, and receive feedback from the teacher and students. You can check out the projects for storm effected classrooms here:

www.donorschoose.org/dashfordonors

www.donorschoose.org/JustBecause

www.donorschoose.org/hurricane-sandy

Getting Back on My Feet

    As I sat back in my favorite spot on the couch with my iPad, ready to stalk Facebook and Twitter yet again, I realized that I had a family to take care of. Wandering around in a self-involved haze is fine for a teenager, college student, even a single woman of a certain age, but decidedly NOT fine for a wife and mother. My mother-in-law had flown back to Florida that morning. My children were bored and restless. And, most importantly, there were grown-up things to be done, and I needed to do them.
      I called FEMA. I managed to get through all the voice prompts without crying, but as soon as the agent picked up and said "This is Vanessa, how may I assist you?", I cried again. Even I was getting annoyed with the tears. Long FEMA story short, yes they can take my information, but no, they probably can't help me. Wonderful.
        My next series of calls were to my renter's insurance company and my car insurance company. Pretty much the same answer from both...too bad, so sad. Apparently, flooding isn't covered in my policies.  I was told, however, that I can get a small refund on my remaining insurance premium for the policy period. Yeah, thanks.
         I called for a rental car. I was told there was nothing in the tri-state area, and I am welcomed to call back after November 8th.  Thank you. Today was November 1st. However, it turns out that it didn't really matter. There was no gas. None. Between the widespread blackouts and the inability for the gas delivery trucks to get into the area for the past several days, gas was at an ultra premium. People were actually sitting in line outside closed gas stations overnight. People waited in line for 8 hours, in the hope of getting a few gallons. Add to this the massive mass transit outages and delays, and I realized that I was not the only one crippled by the storm. The entire city, in fact the entire tri-state area, was one halted mess.
    I continued to watch the news non-stop. I played Words With Friends with people I have never met. I decided we had to get rid of our cars, because leaving them outside the house useless was beyond painful. They were not fancy. They were not new. They were mine. Bought and paid for and reliable, once upon a time.
      My husband did his best to clean them out. He got rid of personal items that had been ruined. He actually had to kick the backseat in through the trunk, because the door was already rusted shut. We called AAA and had them towed to our mechanic. Goodbye.
       I felt that I had done all I could do. But I was empty. Tired. Sad. Alone. Seriously, who wanted to hear me anymore? I didn't want to hear myself.
    I spoke to my family and close friends several times each day. I learned that my sister's house was a total loss. It had to be knocked down, if it didn't topple on its own first. Heartbreaking. My sister and her husband and children were now homeless. Of course they could come to me, but that would just a temporary fix. And gas was short, so they needed to stay close for FEMA. My brother's house was standing and safe, but without power. 3 kids and a dog in an ever increasingly cold house was not a good combination. He was heading for the warmth of our parents' house, which was mercifully unharmed. My friends were still living together. They had nowhere else to go. Thankfully, they had each other.
        I needed something to do. Back to Facebook. This time was different. I happened upon a post that would seriously change the course of my mood, attitude and outlook.  This time, I didn't cry.

                                                          The same story all over the city

Up next: Inspiration

What Has Become of Our Neighborhood?

    It was time to put some clothes on, brush my hair and rejoin society.  I can not tell you what day it was, but I THINK it was Thursday. I lost 2 days. And so much more.
    We got out into the neighborhood. Just started walking. There were many friends we hadn't heard from, and we wanted to check on them. I like to think of our area as an "unplanned" community. So very different from all the carefully structured areas so numerous in Anytown, USA. Our homes are a mish-mash of ranches, splits, splits that used to be ranches, and even a few "McMansions". Eclectic, just like the hard working people who live in them.
     As we walked our streets, the extent of the loss and suffering became oh so clear. There were appliance-grade extension cords running from houses on one side of the street to the houses on the opposite side. They were sharing what they could, trying to power refrigerators, at the very least.
     Hundreds of bags of garbage sat out on the curb, awaiting sanitation pick up. Much loved furniture, electronics, toys, broken and damaged, just waiting to go to their final resting place, in some anonymous garbage dump somewhere. The devastated homeowners, too tired to even move anymore were out on the street, sorting the remnants of their lives. There would be no recycling in our neighborhood today.
     As we arrived at our first friends' home, we were too choked up to speak. We saw their entire lives on the street. My son' sat with their daughters and soon a game of "Trouble" ensued. AWESOME! A normal kid activity.
    We sat with the grown-ups, and the mommies cried. Turns out it wasn't the storm surge that did them in. It was the overloaded sewers backing up into their house. Dear Lord!
     As much as they lost, they still wanted to give. They had a generator. "Do you want to shower here?" "Do you need a ride?" "Can we take you to the grocery store?". These are good people, down but not out. We hugged and headed to other friends.
    On our way, we met the exact friend we were seeking out. Her story was pretty much the same. Storm surge wiped out her basement. Her tenant had to leave. Her husband's home music recording studio was completely destroyed, but she and her family were safe. Thank god!
    Our last stop for the day was yet another family of close friends. She is an elementary school guidance counselor. He is a high school gym teacher. Typical neighborhood folks. These people have been unbelievably kind and generous to us. They invited my youngest son to take private swimming lessons in their in-ground pool, free of charge, whether they were home or not. They have had us to their home for family parties and friend barbecues. Their KARMA was strong.
    As we approached, we met the daddy. He was in the process of helping a neighbor syphon gas from one disabled car into other vehicles, so they would both have enough gas for a few miles. He had been through too much, yet he was still there with a smile, a hug and a helping hand.
    The house, large and well furnished and beautiful, was a disaster. The downstairs apartment, where grandma lives, was destroyed. High end carpentry ripped off the walls from the surge. Granite counter tops smashed. Expensive appliances were now empty shells. And the smell was awful. Another devastation.
      I had had enough. My kids were safe, my husband was safe, but I was heartbroken. We headed home, dodging fallen trees and downed electrical wires. We passed by the remnants of our neighbors lives. It was just too much.
      When we got home, I retreated to my pajamas once more. Still no heat or hot water for us. Who cared? I may never leave the house again!
     Oh yeah, and I cried.

What is left of my friend's recording studio

 

 

 

My neighbor's trash

 

 

trees

   

What Are We Going to Do Now?

   I allowed myself a good, long self-indulgent cry while I waited for the lights to go out. I was consciously aware that "light" and "communication" were not our immediate problems. We had several flashlights, fresh batteries and hurricane lanterns. We had plugged in all of our many devices...4 cell phones, 2 laptops, iPad and iPod touch, so we were ready to  deal with a power outage. The dark didn't scare me. It was the possibility of fire. The VERY REAL possibility that a sparking utility pole would set my house on fire. With my children inside. But, what could I do?
    Needless to say, we did not have a boat. We did not have life rafts and the cars were...submarines, but not in a good, useful way. We were seriously trapped between a fire and an ocean. Personally, I would rather take my chances against a hurricane than a fire.
    I do not hesitate to say the next thing that happened was a miracle. The wind was blowing so fiercely that it detached the sparking wire from the pole. It fell straight down into 4 feet of water. And...fizzled out. Yep, simply died where it lay. (We would come to learn the next morning that the wire was actually not electricity but a cable television connection. The wire had no juice the second it left the pole, but that didn't make it any less terrifying as it was happening. Who knew?)
     We were much safer. If the sparks had continued to fly, they would have no doubt caused a reaction with the other wires on the pole and the transformer would have exploded. This is not exaggeration. The same exact thing happened 4 BLOCKS away. A massive fire ensued. Luckily, property was lost but lives were not, thanks to the quick reaction of NYC's Bravest.
     The lights never went out. They flickered several times, but we never lost power! How is that possible? Wish I knew.
      By 1:00 am, there was nothing more to do. The water was not rising, but it was not receding either. The newscast said that more was to come. No sleep for us.
       I spent my time both crying and obsessively checking Facebook and Twitter for updates from my friends and family. I have a small family, but they mean the world to me. I knew the following information...my sister and her husband and young children lived in a flood zone. (Notice my use of past tense). They had evacuated to a friend's home. My parents also evacuated, to my brother's home. I knew where they were, and that they were safe.
      I also have very close girlfriends with children. One friend evacuated to another friend's home. They were together and safe. They had family who stayed behind to ride out the storm, and I was as worried about them as I was for my own family. Stress was high and so was adrenaline.
      As the dawn broke, the water had still not receded. The wind was dying down and the rain never really picked up. I texted a friend who lives just 12 blocks from me. I started to tell her about the flooding. She was amazed. They had gotten no water, no damage. Good for them.
      I spent the morning staring out the window at the ocean that had once been my street. I cried, I paced, I  stalked Facebook. I was freezing cold, but the boiler was in the basement, so no heat, no hot water.
       The sun tried to peak out, and it was time to survey the damage. The basement was still under 4 feet of water. Total loss. Nothing was salvageable. Our cars were still sitting in 3 feet of water. Total loss. With 2 full tanks of gas. What a waste.
      My landlady called a plumber to start the long and tedious process of pumping out the house. He brought 2 small pumps, but that wasn't nearly effective enough. She eventually found another plumber with an industrial pump. The water started to leave. Good riddance!
      My husband and some neighbors wanted to get the water off the block as soon as possible. They began shoveling around the storm drain, which was still under 3 feet of water. The were able to remove enough debris that the water began to recede. Thank goodness! The water was running out of the house and down the drain. Whew!
      Many neighbors from other blocks that had not been effected were driving around to see who they could help. Our friend Joey drove up our block. He wanted to help, anyway he could. I timidly asked him if he could get us milk for the kids. He left and returned a half hour later with a gallon of milk and 2 large hot coffees. Now, that's friendship! That coffee tasted so good!
      Another friend came and picked me and my older son up, took us to her house and allowed us to shower and sit in the warmth. I will be forever grateful. My husband, mother-in-law and younger son declined the invitation. My husband took ice cold showers and I bathed the little guy using a mixture of some water I had boiled and cold tap water. It was fine. He thought of it as an adventure!

 

My car on Tuesday, after the drain was cleared.

 

 

      We wore bath robes and socks, and waited for something, anything, to happen. I couldn't sleep again. I walked around in a fog. I cried all the time. My car was still in a considerable amount of water. We can't afford a new car, much less 2 new cars. I was feeling sorry for myself. At this point, I had no idea the extent of the damage in and around my native city. Facebook was not telling the story, mostly because the people living the story were without power and communication. By Wednesday morning, the true story started to unfold.

Next: What has become of our neighborhood?
   
   
   

Where the Water Went, and What it Did

    My husband ran back down the stairs to help our landlord. I knew I shouldn't follow, but I did. It's that instinctual NEED to see the crisis. This is a crisis I did not need to see, do not need it in my head. I have no room for it. (Actually, I keep many useless and arbitrary facts in there, just in case I  get on Jeopardy! one day. This was not Jeopardy! material).
    Our basement is down 5 steps from the main entry hall. The water, which was gushing like Niagra Falls down the steps from the backyard, was everywhere. It was a literal swimming pool. The water line reached just below the top of the second step down. This meant that less than 1 foot of narrow steps separated us and the front hallway from flooding. Not only would there be inescapable water outside, it would be inside as well.
    I remember focusing my vision on the wall outlets. They had been installed halfway up the wall, to protect them from water in case of a flood. Well, not this flood. I knew that as soon as the water reached the top step, it would also enter the wall sockets and we would be blacked out as well.
    It was at that exact moment that I heard a sizzling sound and saw light flashing. I turned around and looked up. Large sparks were flying off the utility pole 10 feet from my front door. Big, fiery sparks. This was not good.
    Let me remind you that my 5 year old and my 10 year old were asleep upstairs and my (very active and healthy) 70+ year old mother-in-law was standing right behind me. Again, I ran. Right up the stairs. Right through my apartment, to the room where my boys slept. I heard voices calling and feet running, but I stayed put, in the dark, with my babies.
    I listened to the wind. The news reported upwards of 80 mph winds at one point. I listened for the rain. Oddly enough, there was very little rain. I thought that unsettling. No rain, yet 4 feet of water and rising?
    After a few minutes, I ventured back downstairs. The carpet was wet, but that was from wet feet running back and forth through the house trying to rescue personal items. It was useless. Everything was drenched. Saturated. Soaking. Submerged. Lost.
   I waited for the lights to go out. And I cried.

Diagram of Generic Utility Pole

 

Up Next: What are we going to do now?

The Storm - Prep and Wait

     An acquaintance once told me that my words are my gift. After the past week, I  have discovered that words are actually my power. Let me explain.
     Although the weathermen all predicted SuperStormSandy (SSS) for days, nobody could have expected what actually transpired. We (New Yorkers) had lived through Hurricane Irene just 14 months earlier. In fact, in the previous 2 years we have also dealt with tornadoes, hailstorms, a nor'easter, heatwaves and even an earthquake. An earthquake! In New York! What was a little more weather?
    So, we watched the news and we prepared. I showed my 4th grade students videos from the Weather Channel. I told them school might be canceled on Monday, but I doubted it.
   We bought battery-powered hurricane lanterns, tons of batteries, bottled water, and dry and canned foods. We rented a few movies (to watch until we lost power) and filled our tanks with gas. And, just to make things more interesting, my mother-in-law was visiting from Florida.  Bring it on!
    What came next was massive, unprecedented and devastating! As I watched the local news, I kept hearing that Jamaica Bay and other Atlantic inlets were heading for high tide and large surges. OK. Getting a little nervous. Jamaica Bay is 1000 feet from my house. Things are going to get wet. I looked out my second story window at 8:30. My street seemed to have a shallow river running through it. Hmmm...should I take a picture? No. Too dark, it would never come out.
     So I sat down and started to ...do something. I honestly can not remember, because all of a sudden, the world was turned upside down.
     Just after 9:00 pm, there was a knock on the door. It was my landlady, who lives in the apartment below me. She told my husband that he should come down right away, we were flooded. Honestly, I really thought she meant that the BASEMENT was taking on some water. It had happened in the past, and it wasn't a crisis or unexpected. What we found though was totally UNEXPECTED.
     Our ENTIRE STREET was completely submerged in 4 feet of ocean water. This is no exaggeration for effect. THE ENTIRE STREET! Luckily, our house is on a hill, raised above the street by 6 feet. The water was 2 feet below me and rising fast! I looked to where mine and my husband's cars had been parked. The cars were there, under the water. Completely submerged. Now, I will admit that I am prone to quick reaction, but this was visceral. My guts wrenched, I screamed, I ran. I ran up the stairs to where my children were sleeping, just to make sure they were there.

                                                                       (Jamaica Bay)

     The next sound I heard was my landlord yelling, "The water is coming in, the water is coming in!" Oh my god!! There was nowhere to go!

Tomorrow: Where the water went and what it did