As I sat in my AP US History class on Friday, Oct. 26, 2012, I listened to my favorite teacher go on about our upcoming test. He told our class, "Now I know we're supposed to be having a storm this weekend, and no one knows how bad it'll be. Your test is when we come back to school. I'm planning for Monday. If we have a day off of school, it'll be on Tuesday. I don't care if we have two weeks off from school, your test is the day we get back". My class rolled our eyes and laughed at his exaggeration, not one of us expecting to actually be out of school for the next two weeks.
As the third anniversary of Hurricane Sandy approaches, I can't help but replay this moment in my head. How no one expected this storm to have the effect that it did. How we all scoffed at my history teacher's joke, only to see he was right. The two weeks I had off of school, splitting my time between in my powerless home and cleaning through what once was my grandma's home. To some, Hurricane Sandy was just a free two weeks off of school. For my family, it was the start of a year long change in our lives that we hadn't anticipated.
My grandmother lived in a small town called Union Beach for my whole childhood. I have fond memories visiting her cute little house down by the Raritan Bay, just walking distance from the boardwalk where we would walk and chase seagulls. Her house was very fitting to her as a person--small just like her stature, and filled with love. Pictures and trinkets from her past in Austria filtered the house, along with toys she would always pull out when my siblings and I were visiting. Her house was incredibly homey--and a big part of my childhood.
Being so close to the bay, my mom was worried about potential flooding with Sandy looming in the distance. The stubborn woman that my grandma is fought my mom on leaving--she said she would be fine, and that she could stay in her house. My mom thankfully convinced her to spend what we planned on being a weekend, but turned into a year.
My family was out of power for over a week, but I consider us lucky. As we all know, Hurricane Sandy had devastating effects on New Jersey, and unfortunately my grandma's happy little bay town was one of the worst ones hit. One of the most iconic pictures of Hurricane Sandy--the yellow house ripped in half--stood only a few blocks where my grandma had lived. The Jersey Shore--the places I had practically grown up at--was completely destroyed. Thousands of people lost everything, including my 89-year-old grandmother.
When the storm had nearly passed, we got a phone call from my uncle. I could hear him on the line with my mom, tearfully telling her that my grandma's house was basically gone, and I watched my mom's face crumble. The next moment will haunt me forever--seeing the look in my grandma's eyes as she whispered to herself, "I have no house, I'm homeless".
The weeks after Sandy were spent mucking through the remains of my grandma's bungalow. The water lines showed flooding at least five feet high, and the floors were covered in a thick mud. If my grandma had been persistent on staying, we probably would have lost her too. Everywhere you looked there was loss. Houses were literally ripped apart, while others stood seemingly fine like my grandmas, only to be physically unlivable on the inside.
As disheartening as it was to see so much destruction in such little area, hope shone through. Signs were put up with phrases like, "Stick it Sandy--You took our homes but not our spirit". Volunteers began being bused into the towns with the most destruction, with food and helping hands. Donations started piling into FEMA offices, and victims were being fed hot meals. Schools turned into shelters, and the community started to come together to do all they could for the people who lost it all.
In a time of mass destruction, gas rationing, and extended periods without power, the state I call home proved to be as tough as we always brag. Never in my life had I seen such community in my state, and knowing it was to help people like my grandma made it that much more important to me. While New Jersey is often looked at as the "armpit of America", and full of nasty people, the time after Sandy really solidified that this is merely a stereotype. While I won't lie, that year to follow was living hell for my family as I'm sure it was for many other victims, knowing how much support we had helped us through. The weeks following the storm, I visited my favorite beach town and could barely recognize it. It seemed impossible that it could be in commission come June, but that's exactly what happened. It's a true mark of the strength and passion of my state, and how nothing could stop us.
As the anniversary of Sandy approaches, I am extremely thankful for all I have. I am thankful for the year I got to spend with my grandma living down the hall from me. In that year, we became so much closer than ever before. With her there every day when I got home from high school, teaching me how to knit, and sharing personal stories from her time in Austria during WWII, her presence is the blessing I gained from Hurricane Sandy. I share her Sandy story at this time of year to put a face to the storm. While I live only thirty minutes from her old town, there was no visible destruction near my home. When you don't see the effects directly in front of you, it's so easy to brush off the storm as something happening far away. I know too many classmates who get excited when a hurricane is coming "because hopefully it'll keep us out of school for two weeks like Sandy." The awful effects are minimized to time off from school.
Three years later, my grandma is 92 years old and my biggest inspiration. She still drives a car and moved out of my house to live on her own the October following Hurricane Sandy. While I was sad to see her go, I knew my independent grandma would be much happier in a place of her own. She is my favorite person in the whole world, and words could never accurately portray how thankful I am to have her--especially when so much more than her home could have been lost.
Three years later, and I know there are people who are still living through the hell that Sandy brought with her. Whether it be the physical damage still lingering, or victims suffering Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, it is all very real, and not just healed by time. It'll take many more years before Sandy is just a memory, but I think it is important to realize this. It is important to know that life didn't return to normal when we went back to school two weeks after the storm, and the effects live on even until today.
Three years later, and I am always proud to say I am from New Jersey, the state with the strongest people I know.
