Irene

I never fully imagined the raw power of mother nature. This realization came from having survived tropical storm Irene in 2011. It is very clear I could have perished in its wake. This story is what I lived through during one of the most devastating storms ever to slam the east coast of America.

Having heard all the hype about Irene, I watched closely to what it had done to other states and felt that I was in no need to worry about its effects. By the time it would reach us in our section of Connecticut, nothing major would happen. After she swept through town, it became clear to me right away what this storm was capable of. I was ignorant to the devastating effects that was heading my way.

It was not until the morning of August 28th that I awoke to howling winds and an uneasy feeling in my gut. Irene had already shown her face in the wee hours of that Sunday morning and was building strength as the moments passed. Having lived on the waterfront for most of my life, I am aware of what even the smallest storms can do to a house that is 15 feet above Long Island Sound. That morning Irene was already pounding away at the seawall that separates my residence from the voracious breath of the storm. As each wave crashed, the house shook. With each splash the seawater began to smash the bay windows overlooking the Sound. The wind was screaming, and the grayness of the sky broke for no sun.

As the water began to splash in from the seams of the window sills, we mopped what water we could from the hardwood floors. My father, mother and I moved frantically about the great room, watching the ocean ascend. At high tide, which was not due until 11 am., we watched and waited, in our minds wishing for that time to come. It was only 10 am. I cracked a beer. There was nothing to do but hope for the best. The beer tasted like water and went down quickly. I began to pace. It was at this point that every minute of my life felt like hours. When will it be high tide? The water outside had breached the seawall and began streaming past the house toward the street. The flooding opposite the ocean side had reached significant levels. Our kayaks which were parked on the side of the house had begun to float away along with our trach cans and various other items from our outdoor shed. I decided to wade through the flooding to fetch the kayaks. I tied them to the front hedge and seriously considered evacuating. The kayaks seemed a good option at the time, but after suggesting the topic of leaving my father insisted on staying. Once I got back inside I noticed large pools beginning to form in our patio area by the water. The seawall seemed to not make much of a defense against the roaring ocean outside. 

The tension in the room and the tide came in unison. Soon we were no longer watching this storm, we were engaged. Around 10:45 the top windows began to crack. The water continued to splash in from inconceivable crevices along the vertices of the smaller window panes. With the two bay windows still intact, we saw the smaller side windows begin to give way. With each wave that came upon us, the grey-blue blackness covered the entire window set in all directions, smothering the 10 ft high, 40 ft wide windows with water. Then the smaller windows beside the bay windows blew out. The towels we were using to mop the hardwood floors looked like tissues in a toilet bowl. We did not stop there. We closed the top part of the smaller windows hoping it would stop some of the water that continued to splash into the house. In a panic we stood, wavering, trying to decipher the next logical move. Then with haste we attempted to reset the smaller windows into their original hinges, thinking it would decrease the amount of water that was already streaming into the room. My father picked up a  window pane (which was shattered from the impact of the previous wave) and held it into place in the sill. He cried out "Find a board, or something to put into the sill!" Seeing him holding a shattered window pane up against the swelling storm, I fel time stop. I could not move. ‘This is ridiculous’ I thought - a 68 year old man holding a shattered pane of glass against an oncoming disaster...madness! I demanded he let go of the glass, but he insisted to hold on. "I’ve got it", he said. I continued attempting to convince him to get away from the windows as the waves continued to smash through the gaps, drenching us with seawater. I insisted again we evacuate but my father would not budge.

What happened next was inconceivable. The large bay window I was standing next to was hit by a thunderous wave. In one swift motion the bay window exploded into the room under its impact. Hundreds of gallons of water rolled into the great room, pushing the furniture toward the back wall. My mother was standing in front of the oncoming water and furniture, with a look of terror on her face. Instinctively, she managed to turn and sit right into a chair that came spinning toward her, instinctively avoiding being crushed. "That’s it" I proclaimed. "There is nothing else we can do, lets go!" I grabbed my father’s hand and we scurried into the dining room away from the windows. We stood for a moment there watching the waves continue to engulf the great room, ripping away what was left of the window frames and glass. It was then I noticed the cut on my foot, even though I was wearing sandals, glass and debris was rushing through the water at our feet. We were forced to continue moving toward the back door, away from the oncoming water as it pushed it’s way through the dining room. It went all the way to the back door, which we opened to let the water flow through the first floor. Outside, the flooding had reached the top of our back door step, leaving us trapped in what seemed like a sinking ship.

"I cut my foot," I heard my father say. Looking down, I noticed his sandals were gone, revealing three bloody wounds on his left foot. I grabbed a towel for him to stand on and helped move him behind a small wall in the foyer, shielding him from the oncoming water.

"We’ll have to get you upstairs," I said. "Once this dies down a bit."

"I’ll be fine."

"Are you sure? Those cuts look pretty bad."

" Yeah, I’m OK."

Once the water stopped flowing past us we maneuvered our way around the tumbled furniture toward the stairs. I assisted my father up to the second floor while my mother found the first aid kit. We patched up our wounds and sat for some time in complete silence. The sound of the water coming into the great room downstairs echoed through the upstairs hallway. It was 12:39 p.m. Half way through a day that felt like an eternity.