Like most storms that have threatened the Boston area since we've been here, Sandy was pretty uneventful for us. There were some strong winds and rain for one afternoon. A tree fell down in our neighborhood but without damage to property or power lines.
It wasn't until the smoke cleared and news about New York and New Jersey came out that we realized how fortunate we were.
About a week after Sandy hit, we received news that volunteers from our stake were being asked to travel down to the Queens, NY area to help out in any way that they could. The particulars about when and where to go came out a little too late for us to take action on the first Saturday, but when we found out there would still be groups going down on the following Saturday, I (Collin here) decided to join one of them.
If you've seen
this video going around on Facebook about the Mormon Helping Hands volunteers, those images and interviews were exactly what I experienced. Two weeks into it, people on the streets knew exactly who we were and did not hesitate to come up to us and ask if we could help them out with specific projects. It was a wonderful experience for me, and I'm so grateful that Rachel sacrificed her free time and our family Saturday for me to go. Here are a few stories:
I carpooled with a woman in our ward who invited along her mother and step-father, visiting from San Antonio. Another young mother from a nearby ward joined us in the minivan, and we headed out to Queens at about 5:30am. Upon arrival, we were met by a few missionaries (a few from Orange County, CA) who provided us with our yellow vests and a list of houses who had already been contacted and had work pre-arranged for us to do.
As we set out and walked the neighborhoods, the outward damage was immediately evident. Chain link fences had debris still stuck in them and left evidence of the four feet of water that had once covered it. Cars that wouldn't start after having been submerged were abandoned in the center divider of the street. Boats without trailers were found down every side street having no sign of the owner intending to salvage them. Some were full of trash. Others were spray painted with a message, "Please Take."
For the most part, it appeared as if people were going along with everyday life, but as we got into the houses, it was clear that everyone in the neighborhood was in demolition / clean-up mode. We first stopped at a house where the resident was not at home. We called the number on our listing and he asked if we could come back later as he wasn't quite in the area. We started making our way to the next house when a woman called to us from across the street and ran over to us. She said she knew what we do and asked if we'd possibly have time to help out at her brother's and cousin's houses a few blocks down. Having done this for the past week, the missionaries knowingly provided us with a sheet to fill out people's names, addressess, phone numbers, and the help needed. As we took down her information, she thanked us profusely and said what a blessing it was to have people around who could, at the very least, provide their time.
We had walked no more than the length of one house when another stranger stopped us and asked the same thing. Two minutes later, another. And then another. Before we could even reach the second house on our list, the number of requests we had set out to fulfill had more than doubled.
The second and third residents weren't quite in the area when we passed by either, so we decided to head back to a man who had asked for just an hour or so of our time to help with a project. Louis Debenedictis, or "Louie Logs" as he's known, had recently retired after 40 years of working for a local electric company. He continued to make a partial living by collecting and selling scraps of wood, whether it was skinny strips or sticks for kindling, or huge logs and old scrap wood for large fires. Louie kept this collection in his backyard, which was literally along the edge of the water.
During the storm, the rising ocean carried about a fourth of Louie's wood collection from his backyard, down towards the house, and down the alleyway that led to the main street in front of the house. In addition to the wood, the ocean had brought in whatever else was in the water during the storm, which was mostly weeds and such, but happened to include an old floating telephone pole. The pole had fortunately just missed smashing into Louie's house like a battering ram and settled along side the house with the rest of the firewood. With the help of a dolly and wheelbarrow, we managed to put the firewood back into Louie's backyard so he could have access to his basement and the alleyway where he needed to get started on the rest of the clean-up work.
We got to talk with Louie a little bit after the work and found out that he was a bit of a collector. Some notable items included a 1950's GE refridgerator that still worked after he drained it and a large international radio at least old enough to be marked "Made in West Germany". It was a bit strange to see an antique radio belting out Adele tunes.
As we said goodbye to Louie, we gave a call to Tom Wallace, the man who wasn't quite ready for us to come by when we had first set out. He said he could use our help tearing down four feet of sheetrock and insulation all around the house. Tom and his wife had a frightening view of the storm because they had decided to stay in their house as the hurrican passed over. They said they had never been so scared in their life and vowed to never underestimate a hurricane again. Tom relayed to us the fact that the folks in their area were quite unlucky with the timing of Sandy as the worst of it hit during high tide and moon tide.
Tom knew quite a bit about how to repair the home and I learned much from him and Ray, a member of our group and former carpenter, as they discussed the next steps for getting the place back in order. The whole experience made me a little more daunted at the thought of becoming a homeowner someday.
After only two houses, our day of work had been filled. We dropped off our lists of names and numbers collected during the day to the local missionaries who would follow-up with them during the coming week and piled back into the car for the long, restful journey home.
