So, what a night, huh?  And here we are to tell the tale. Now that it’s over we can all hoot, ‘Ah, it wasn’t so bad – I remember back in yadda, yadda – now that was a hurricane.’

I’m old enough to remember the ‘good old days’ when you would go to bed at night, hunker down under the covers warm and secure and pop right off to sleep, safe in the knowledge that all was right with the world. Then – sometime in the middle of the night – BAM, a horrendous clap of thunder; winds tossing things all about in the yard; trees falling across the road; rain being whipped against the house; water backing up in the streets; everyone running around the house shouting orders, “ You get the upstairs windows.” – “Let the damn dog in.” – “Someone run outside, the trash cans are rolling down the street.” – “Oh, hell, the car windows are open.” – “Good God, this must be a hurricane!”

The dog comes in, shakes and wets down the entire kitchen. The lights start to flicker. From down in the basement you hear, “Candles – where are the #!& $#!* candles?” Someone yells that they have found a flashlight but it holds no batteries. The wind is now banging at the door and someone (not me of course) starts to cry in despair. My Mom is screaming for someone to find batteries; the Man of the House is still banging around in the basement; everyone of us kids over 3 is propped in the living room window watching the wonderful show on the front lawn – the flag is rolling around in a ball; branches and leaves are everywhere; a few neighbors are chasing trash cans down the street and rushing to roll up car windows; the noise is unbelievable – like a freight train coming through; the sky lights up over and over again even lighting up the inside of the house; wow – this is great. Leaving our posts at the front window we charged, screeching with glee, to the rear of the house to witness the show in the back yard. All the while the adults are running around trying to secure this and that – give us light, etc. 

There was never a warning back then, not a three day lead time or even a 24 hour warning. Storms, blizzards, down pours just happened. Somehow we survived.

Some photos here of the aftermath of Irene in Shrewsbury, New Jersey. Ah, this was nothin’ – I remember back in ’92 or was it ’90?  Or maybe even ’62.

C.M. McLoughlin, a writer and editor from New Jersey and New York, can be reached at mcloughlin43@gmail.com.