“That sofa brings back such memories”, my neighbor said to me as she passed the sidewalk, her arms encircling and steadying her Mom. Our friendly smiles to one another turned grim as we realized we were talking about my parents’ upended, soaking wet rattan sofa at the top of the makeshift garbage heap outside of our Breezy Point cottage. It was a week after Hurricane Sandy did her damage, a hurricane with such a sweet name for something so furious.
My husband, Bill, and I made the trip in from Vermont to help my siblings clear out my 84 year old Dad’s flooded home. He evacuated with a small suitcase and a box of important papers, but not much else. We were there to follow FEMA’s orders and clear out the home before further water damage and mold set in. The clean out crew consisted of my hydro-geologist brother, Joe, who brought every tool he owned and plunked it in heaps on the porch; my Upper East Side sister Joanne and her Indian born husband, Jitu who are both better at making reservations than performing any act of physical exertion; myself and my husband. Bill kept muttering, not unkindly, “you go to war with the army you have,” as he looked around at his unlikely team of day laborers.
The swollen door stuck as we pried it open and it bore the 3‘ water mark as a reminder of the challenges we faced. After getting over the initial shock of the damage inside, we got to work. The goal was to remove all of the wet and damaged furniture, which turned out to be everything on the first floor, so that we could get at the wet carpet. My sister and I were debating whether to keep or throw away certain items and realized that we were slowing everyone down, so we set up a staging table on the porch to sort later. Things started to move quickly after that as we grabbed belongings to toss on the growing pile at the sidewalk. After removing the soaking wet carpet and pad (yes it was as disgusting as it sounds since the water was a mixture of ocean, sewage, oil and who knows what else) we were able to attack the walls. FEMA was clear - you must remove the wallboard and wet insulation to arrest mold growth. Bill and Joe worked as a team to cut away the panelling and wall board beneath it, remove the insulation and toss it all on the floor as the rest of the team dragged it outside. Realizing that the heating system was in the way, a quick conference was held to make the hard decision to cut the pipes. This was turning into heavy demolition as we worked to save the shell of our house.
At certain times of challenge in my life, I have felt my deceased Mom nearby and always ask for a sign to know she is there. When my girls were little, she always told them not to put “pennies in their mouth”. I know, that sounds a bit crazy, but she had a weird fear of them choking. It seems like I do find pennies in odd places whenever I ask her for a sign. It was the end of the longest, most exhausting day of our lives and we were getting ready to shut the door when I noticed it. There it was, one lone penny standing upright against the wall by the door. It was the only thing left in the room that day.
