The phone rang.I let the answering
machine pick up. It was the same
familiar message: A robo-call from
Ed Magnano, the Nassau County
Executive, stating that there was a
suggested evacuation of the low-lying
barrier island that was home to Long
Beach, Lido Beach, Atlantic Beach
and Point Lookout. It was Sunday,
the day before the storm was due, and
within hours, the message became
more serious, elevating its urgency
from “suggested” to “mandatory”.
I had learned the year before
what a mandatory evacuation
actually was, courtesy of
Hurricane Irene. They won’t
knock on your door and force
you to leave, but if you’re in
trouble, they can’t guarantee
that they will be able to help
you.
I was working for a real
estate company that also did
property management for the
Long Beach high rises, so I
really felt connected with what
was happening.
“
Are you leaving?” I asked
Richard, one of the real estate
reps. He’s 93, works 7 days
a week, and has seen it all.
He was here in 1938 for the
last great hurricane, dubbed
“
The Long Island Express”,
because it slammed into Long
Island with amazing forward speed.
This Category 3 storm had wreaked
incredible destruction, the likes of
which the island had not seen since.
He has lived through decades of
local historical events, including the
assassination of the Long Beach
Mayor in the following year. He was
the best person to consult. “We left
during Irene, and that turned out to
be nothing. So, we are staying,” he
said. “If the wind comes from the
west, we are OK; if it comes from the
east, we are in trouble.”
Well, if Richard was staying,
friends in surrounding towns were
staying, and most of Long Beach was
staying put, then it was silly to leave,
right? Anyway, where would I go? If
Long Island gets hit, it gets hit. Why
be silly, and escape the excitement of
a hurricane? In this city, people flock
to the boardwalk during hurricanes;
surfers surf, gather with friends, and
have one big party. It’s NEVER as
bad as they say. I had been the only
person to evacuate Long Beach, at
6
AM the day before Irene hit. This
time, I decided to stay put. “We’ll be
fine,” I told myself.
Monday looked like, well, a
storm. Nothing unusual, just a basic
Nor’easter, and nothing that I hadn’t
already seen in the 20 years I’ve
lived here. I didn’t consider myself a
greenhorn on this barrier Island, but
I, along with every other person, was
unprepared for what was to come. I
spent Monday hanging around in
my third floor condo, cat at my side,
and Macbook Pro on my lap. My
“
Airport” and cable modem happily
blinked away as I took pictures from
my balcony and posted them with
hourly updates on Facebook.
Yes, the ocean seemed angry, but
hey, people and their dogs were out,
watching a jet skier pull a surfer over
the waves. I went down to the beach,
and took more photos of the surfer,
and a little video of the crowd. None
of it seemed really good enough to
use for anything, but I kept it anyway.
The day wore on, and I drove up to
George’s house.
He’s my partner, and he has
two houses on the bay side of
town.The dividing line is Park
Avenue; anything north of Park
is considered the bay side, and
to the south, the ocean side. By
mid-afternoon, the bay already
flooded Franklin Blvd, nearly
halfway between the bay and
Park Avenue. I stopped in to
his house for a few minutes,
but I was increasingly nervous
about the winds and teetering
branches. George elected stay
put with “Baldy”, his Jack
Russell terrier, so I went back
home alone to hunker down.
I was totally storm-ready:
apartment clean, bills paid,
blocks of ice in the freezer, and
I even filled up a couple of pitchers
with water. There was nothing left to
do but to watch TV and watch the
storm roll on in. This was going be
easy, just like Irene. After all, during
Irene, we had no flooding here, no
power or cable loss. That’s right. Eat,
watch TV and update my status from
the front lines of Sandy. “I got this
covered,” I assured myself. “I’m ready.”
By late afternoon, I got word
that the canals section was already
flooded. The ocean got angrier as the
Superstorm
By Linda Chodkowski
Linda Chodkowski is a family friend who lived through the worst that
Hurricane Sandy had to offer, including its terrible aftermath.With so many of
us here at the lake connected to the Northeast, and feeling the storm’s effects
through family and friends, we thought you’d appreciate this first-hand
account. In this first installment of a three-part series, you get to experience
Sandy through Linda’s eyes and ears.
~ Tim Ernandes, Editor
Discover Smith Mountain Lake |
www.discoversmithmountainlake.com
Discover Smith Mountain Lake | Spring 2013
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