When the storm hit, it was pretty
scary in downtown Jersey City. Then, for
three days, it was just eerie — no power, no
heat, shuttered stores and nameless shapes
with flashlights barely visible on dark sidewalks. The only sound came from a few gas
generators pumping filthy black water out
of first floor apartments and basements.
We were completely cut off.
On November 4, people waited in line to purchase gasoline in Lower Manhattan days after Superstorm Sandy hit; the wait ime was 40 minutes when purchasing smaller amounts in a gas can.
High tide under a full moon came
at 8:00 pm that Monday night. At the
time, my biggest concern was that the
power would go out and the pumps in
my downstairs bedroom would cease.
Then, a friend who lives two blocks
away called to say the Hudson River
was coming down our block and was
two houses from his. The power did
fail and our conversation was cut off.
He was soon at my door with his dog
I put my boots on and forced myself
to eat some cold chicken in case we had
to evacuate. We are about a half-mile
from the river and on slightly higher
ground than the waterfront areas, but
the water downstairs was coming up
faster than during previous storms. If
need be, we could get in the truck and
drive to higher ground. Luckily, the
river stopped rising.
Tuesday, not wanting to face the damp
cold, I stayed in bed for as long as pos-
sible — on my sofa actually, since my
real bed was destroyed. Then I left
the house to survey the destruction:
The foot bridge to Liberty State Park
was gone, trees were down and a giant
picture window had caved in on some-
body’s home. One man I spoke to told
me his tenants lost everything. Every-
where, people were unsuccessfully try-
ing to get cell phone signals.