Hurricane Sandy: Heather DelGuercio

My name is Julie Barnaby. I live in Manasquan NJ, a block away from the beach in a tiny house just big enough for my sister and I. I lifeguarded in the summer and my sister worked at the local pizza place on the boardwalk, so it was convenient for us to live so close to the beach…or at least it was until Hurricane Sandy hit.

My sister Jenna and I had been watching the news everyday getting updates on the storm. Almost every time after the weather report was given there was either an ad for ways to prepare, or the governor insisting that everyone evacuate their shore homes. Several days before the storm hit my parents called to say that they would feel more comfortable if my sister and I rode out the storm at their house. They also lived in New Jersey but not as close to the beach so it was a safer option. Jenna and I packed up some things and headed towards our parents house in Freehold.

The storm hit. Surprisingly it hit Freehold harder than expected. Trees falling on cars, weeklong power-outages, gas station fights, empty food stores and massive flooding. All I could think about was how bad it must have been in Manasquan if it was this terrible in Freehold, a good twenty miles from the shore.

My family was fortunate enough to purchase a generator just before the stores ran out so we were able to watch some of the news. I say fortunate but I don’t know that I was. Every story talked about the immense devastation down by the shore. Houses floating away, sand pilled up everywhere and waves higher than homes. I was just waiting for that one shot that showed my street, my house, but it never came.

Finally the storm had quieted down and people were being allowed to return to their homes by the beach. I was beyond nervous as my sister and I took the drive back home. We passed houses that were completely torn apart, water still covering the streets, trees uprooted, cars filled with water and power lines all over the roads. It was like a war zone.

We crossed over the bridge that takes us closer to the beach, closer to our home. Jenna reached over to grab my hand as we waited to see the damage. The damage was similar to all the destruction we had already passed but everything seemed heightened. Houses that were gone, at least 4 inches of water in the streets, trees and sidewalks uprooted, cars floating away and power lines crashed into homes.

We weren’t but two blocks away from our house when an officer stopped our car.

“You live down here?” he said.

Jenna answered, “Yes, on 1^st Ave, what’s the problem?”

What the officer said next I wasn’t prepared to hear.

“I apologize ladies. It’s far too dangerous to get down there at this point. Can’t even make in another block because of the flooded roads. Everything’s destroyed, gone, covered in sand. There’s nothing left to go back to.”

Tears poured down my face. I had just been told that my house was practically gone and there was nothing I could do about it.  

We went home and stayed back with our parents for another week until finally our governor got on the news saying we have begun to ‘Restore the Shore’ and it was safe for owners to return to their homes.

This time when we drove back down I was able to get closer to my street or what used to be my street. The officer from the week before was right. Everything was gone, completely destroyed. We got out of the car and Jenna and I walked hand in hand across mounds of sand to where our house used to stand. The roof was gone, the side of our house was leaned up against the one next-door, doors and windows gone. Walking inside wasn’t much better. Everything we owned was soaking wet and half of our belongings were scattered around the street.

I took a step back to get a better look of my home when my neighbor tapped my on my shoulder. I turned to him and despite the damage to his own home, he smiled and said, “we are stronger than this storm”.