Well Played Irene, Well Played

I think Mother Nature heard that I was a little upset that I didn't feel that earthquake on Tuesday and decided to grace us with her presence this weekend. Hurricane Irene was in town. Friday and Saturday consisted of everyone on the East Coast buying gas, bread, and milk. Instead of preparing for the hurricane, my sister and I went shopping at the Cherry Hill Mall. 25% off at Macy's, plus ridiculous sales at every store? Irene wasn't about to stop this shopper. I expected us to lose power for a few hours. The storm was all hype, I assumed. I was wrong. At 5:30 am on Sunday, the police knocked on our door. I believe their actual words were, "The lake is rising. You might want to consider evacuating." You know, nothing major, just consider leaving all your possessions behind and hightailing it out of town. We dressed and packed enough clothes for a couple of days. I even had enough sense to pack some work clothes. And in case you were wondering, yes I put on mascara. Kurt was incredulous. "You're putting on MAKEUP for an evacuation?" Look. The police weren't too urgent with their evacuation warning. I knew we had time, so why not? What if something crazy happened and our picture was in the paper?

Our "evacuation" consisted of walking to the front porch and watching the houses and street flood. It is something I will never forget. To the left of our house are four houses, and then a small bridge (that was just redone and reopened about two weeks ago) over a lake. The lake is in our backyard and tends to rise with large storms. And by rise, I mean the bank of the lake rises about 2 or 3 feet to the bottom of our backyard. At around 8 am, I looked in the backyard. The lake was at our back door. We had about 2 feet of water in the backyard and it was still rising and still raining. Near the bridge, water was rushing from the lake into the street. The bridge, road, and 3 houses closest to the bridge were flooded. As time passed and more rain fell, the lake rose higher and higher until it reached the top step at our back door. I spent the time racing between the front porch and back door, taking pictures of everything and panicking.
Next to the bridge is an old building that used to house a mill. There's a little driveway in front of it that slopes downward. That slope became filled with rushing, churning water as more and more of the lake overflowed into it. More than anything, it resembled rapids. Dangerous, fast rapids filled with planks of wood, lawn chairs, life jackets, pipes, and barriers from the bridge construction. There were two shops at the bottom of the slope. Water rose to the windows.

I resigned myself to the fact that our apartment would be flooded. I assumed it was inevitable. That stupid lake just wouldn't stop rising. We moved everything from the floor or bottom shelves onto tables, onto the washer and dryer and just hoped that would be enough. Our landlords arrived with sandbags to try to keep the basement dry, to no avail. Our sump pump gave out and our basement steadily filled with water. Before it was too late, we shut off the power and gas. By 10 o'clock, we had 5-6 feet of water in the basement.

And then, mercifully, the water began to recede. Neighbors came out to compare damage. The houses near the bridge had about 3 feet of water in the first floors. An older woman and her grandson had to be rescued by EMTs. Most people reported only water in the basement. All reached out to those who had significant damage. If there's one thing I've learned it's that there's nothing like a natural disaster to bring neighbors together. As the water receded, it uncovered significant damage to the roadway on the bridge. A gaping hole stood where the water had previously.

We packed our cars and left for Kurt's dad's, unsure what to do next. About an hour later, our landlords called. The building inspector deemed our house and the four houses closer to the bridge condemned. We could come get some clothes, but after that, we wouldn't be allowed in the house at all. Apparently, the pressure of the water in the basement was the problem. If they pumped the water too quickly, the foundation could collapse.

Countless friends and family members reached out. We were overwhelmed by the outpouring of support and offers of a place to stay. We both know that we were lucky. We're both unhurt, our possessions haven't been damaged. It could have been so much worse. At this point, we're chalking it up to experience, to adventure, to a story to tell. Kurt keeps calling us refugees. He loves that word. For my part, I already miss home. It could be weeks or even a month before we're allowed to live in our apartment again, if ever, so we're preparing for the worst. Kurt's devised a plan to sneak in under cover of night to get his prized possession: his TV.