Sandy

By Jerome Pearson

January 2013

(8 years later! Sandy arrived in New Jersey 29 October 2012)

A week before Hurricane Sandy hit our area, it was said that she would leave the Caribbean on her way to just north east of Florida – without hitting land- and then head north up the Atlantic Coast, barely skirting the outer edges of Eastern Sea Board, and then somewhere near Atlantic City, NJ, at approximately 6:30 pm on evening of 29 October 2012, make a sharp left turn and then head directly towards me!

That was one heck of a forecast, wouldn’t you say? However, no matter the forecast, nothing could prepare us for what was about to happen. It was almost as if the creators of Hurricane Hugo nearly 23 years earlier decided that this time they were going to make sure to get Jerome, who was not in his home state of South Carolina back in 1989, but rather attending his wedding in the District of Columbia. This time, Sandy set her GPS for Wayne, New Jersey, and that mechanical female navigation system voice that guides you to your destination, gleefully exclaimed – at about 8:30 on the evening on 29 October 2012- “You have reached your destination!”

On the day before, as my wife, Cecelia, was at the beautician getting her hair done, I went to our local Gym, with plans of getting together later to stock-up on groceries and other supplies. That Sunday was cloudy and windy; there were already mild hints of what was about to come the next day. The local grocery store was packed, the gas station lines already longer than I had ever seen, and this was before we lost any kind of power. Although we went to the grocery store, we never had to wait in gas lines, since our cars were filled on Saturday.

Later that Sunday, the day before the Hurricane, we went to an Italian restaurant in the town of Montclair, NJ. Realizing that we would probably be eating at home the next several days, we wanted to enjoy some time away from home. There were already warnings that everyone, minus essential personnel, should stay home the next day; this was in spite of the fact that the storm was not expected to hit land until late Monday.

My hope was that the forecasters would be wrong; they have been wrong before, even though I must admit that in the last several years they have been more right than wrong. This hope is selfish, perhaps, because it often means if not “us”, then “them”. I secretly wished that since the Costal New Jersey was being hit and Long Island, New York, then perhaps the storm would not come so far in land. I was wrong! This time the storm was so humongous that almost everyone on the east coast was affected, although some to a greater or lesser extent than others. However, even those who were affected the least still sustained some damage.

After returning from the restaurant on that Sunday, I went to the local Barnes & Noble – a Sunday night ritual of mine – to skim some of the latest offerings. I am an avid reader and I discover new books just by perusing the “new books” section in Barnes & Noble. I have discovered many new writers this way. Now days, I don’t buy the books from Barnes & Noble, since for the most part I can order them on my Kindle and the electronic version allows the access of numerous books with little or no extra weight, particularly when traveling. The Barnes & Noble on route 46 West in West Patterson, NJ closes at 9 pm on Sunday evenings, so I am usually on my way home just in time to catch the latest Masterpiece Theater mystery that begins a 9. I am somewhat partial to the Scandinavian mysteries which always exude an air of mysterious coldness and darkness, i.e., the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo! When I left the bookstore on this evening, I felt as if I were about to part-take in my own little mystery, prompted, perhaps, by the impending approach of Sandy.

The television stations were having a “field day” with this approaching storm, as they always have with the possibility of any disaster. I am often amazed at the excitement they have regarding possible disasters, and the disappointment they have when they don’t materialize. The Friday before I was sitting in the waiting room as my car was being serviced, and the local TV station just could not cease talking about Sandy. They were like, “you need to stay with channel 12 so that we can keep you prepared for the storm.” Was the significant damage done to Staten Island due to them not watching enough of channel 12?

After returning from the bookstore on the evening before the storm, there was no Masterpiece mystery, so I did some work on my computer, and began surfing the web for the latest stories. I would occasionally glance at the TV to see what was happening with the storm. The prognosis was just as dire as before, but I was still thinking (hoping?) that there was a chance that we could be missed, which was quite contrary to what was being reported.

The next morning, we were informed that no one should be on the roads, and the Governors of New York and New Jersey were basically suggesting that any employer that would force their workers – minus those essential personnel – to show up to work were basically callous and would pay the consequences. I think, for the most parts, most places of employment took heed.

The Governor of New Jersey was having a running feud with the mayor of Atlantic City, who he indicated was disobeying his orders to have people evacuated. I think that this fight probably had more to do with ongoing tensions between the Governor and the Mayor, which the storm provided an ideal opportunity to exploit. The Governor would eventually come out looking better than the Mayor in this particular instance, since Atlantic City was one of the hardest hit areas on the entire east coast.

Cecelia and I had breakfast at home, and then began working from home. We can both work from home on occasions; I know we got just as much done as we would have in the office. Cecelia even had several telephonic meetings throughout the day, only breaking for lunch. Her plan was to roast a Chicken and put vegetables in the pressure cooker later that day and have everything ready before the storm arrives. At that time, we did not realize that this would be a candle-lit dinner!

At around 5 pm on this afternoon, we began to notice flickering of the lights, and the television would go off and on. We knew that it had to with the storm, but I was still hoping that we would be spared.

Just as dinner was being served, the power went out for good. We had candles and multiple flashlights of all sorts, something that we have stocked up on for many years.

Sure, enough the dinner was eaten under candlelight. My wife is an exceptionally good cook, almost gourmet at times. And she is as smart as they come if I may say so myself.

After dinner, all we could do was sit in the living room under candlelight, listen to the radio, and read our kindles. By this time, the wind was as forceful as any that I ever encountered during my life. Shortly, I noticed a cop’s car parked outside our door. I guess they were just checking out the area. About 30 minutes after this, I heard my next-door neighbor outside, and I opened the front door to see what was happening. By that time, a tree had already fallen in our yard, just missing the house. My neighbor was standing in the street with a flashlight, and I thought he was calling me. I attempted to walk outside to see if I could hear what he was saying, but then I realized that several electrical wires were down, and I was not sure if they were live. He just wanted to know if the tree had hit our house, which it hadn’t. I could see that several trees were already down, and I had not even heard them fall. Nearly ½ hour later, I attempted to open the front door and the pressure from the wind was so forceful that I could barely close it again. I then knew not to try that again!

We decided to remain downstairs on the living room couch with multiple candles and flashlights. While we do own a portable generator, I was not planning on starting it on this night. We had enough light to read.

I did not want to go upstairs because there is a humongous tree right outside our bedroom window, and I thought we would be safer downstairs. I told Cecelia that we were not going upstairs until the winds died down, somewhat at least. At around 11:30 Cecelia started sleeping on the couch while I remain vigilant and just read under candlelight. At around 1:30, I decided that it was perhaps safe enough to now go upstairs to our bedroom. The winds were howling like nothing I had ever heard before. At some points, it would seem to pick up so much speed that you began to wonder just how much our house and the surrounding trees could withstand.

It was difficult sleeping this way, so I was only dozing off and on, being continuously awakened by another accelerated burst of wind.

Around 4am the next morning, I knew that the storm had moved out of the area, but there was an eerie quietness, with the exception of multiple generators running throughout the neighborhood. I feared looking outside, not knowing what to expect. How much damage was there? How long would we be without power? The previous year, during the October 2011 ice storm, we were only without power a day and a half. If only we should be so lucky this time! The radio stations were reporting there was so much damage that it would take weeks for most residents in the tri-state areas to regain power.

Although we lost power, we still had hot water. We were able to use the stove top for a little cooking since it is gas ignited. Cecelia was even able to make coffee on the stove top.

After breakfast, we charged our cell phones in the cars which are stored in our garage.

We could see families walking through the streets, surveying the damage. We decided to do likewise. As we walked, we had to be careful not to step on any of the numerous electrical lines that were down, particularly since we were not sure if they were live or not. I think they were all dead, but there is no need to take chances.

We could see one neighbor who had 3 large trees that had fallen on his house. Up and down the street, trees that were planted by the township years earlier had almost all fallen. This was due to the fact they were planted between the road and the sidewalk and there was not enough space for their roots to expand and grow, unlike the ones in the back yard. Therefore, almost all of those trees were down, with the entire roots out of the ground.

Not far from our house, there was a building that was being used as shelter being run by FEMA. The Shelter had coffee and doughnuts, and multiples places to charge phones, run laptops, take showers, etc. We had already eaten breakfast, and although our house had no heat, we certainly had hot water, so we did not the need the showers at the shelter. But it was nice to know that the place was not far, and we did use it for phone charging, and actually running our computers on multiple occasions. Plus, unlike home, it was warm.

There was a fat security guard in the place who was holding court with a group of older women, telling them that he was so happy that we would only have one more week with Obama as President. I was wondering if he even realized that if it were not for Obama, we may not even have this shelter that was currently being used to stuff his gut with multiple doughnuts and coffee. I think he had been listening to just a little bit too much of FOX news! I would love to have seen him a week later! Ha, ha!

The shelter even had cots for sleeping for those who could not sleep at home. There was a young couple that was expecting a baby in about two weeks it seemed. They seemed like they would be in a shelter even if there had been no storm. I felt kind of sorry for them because the girl looks to be only about 17 and boy the same. I was wondering what brought them there since they didn’t seem to live in the neighborhood, and I could tell that they were staying at the shelter since they were both in pajamas. They were also helping out the shelter staff, as if they were trying to earn their stay. I was wondering what would happen to them once the storm was totally over. At one point when the girl was in another room, one of the ladies asked the young man when his wife due was! He indicated that they were not married, which was something the lady must have not considered; it seems to me immediately that they were possibly not married.

Later that evening, I had my generator running for several hours. The generator was mainly used to provide light for a while, at least – and to indulge my love of the old Columbo series. I have always been a fan of this series from the early seventies. I actually have the first 3 seasons on DVD. I love seeing the actual crime at the beginning and watching Columbo methodically trap the antagonist in his wrinkled raincoat, cigar, and that beat-up jalopy. I am always entertained when Columbo is about to exit a room, knowing that he has just one more pertinent question, which is asked just as he is about leave. That question would always be one that would make the antagonist begin to sweat, realizing that this quirky detective is shrewder than he first appears.

After exhausting the Columbo series, we begin watching the “Wire” which is set in Baltimore, with many of the characters actually from the streets, some of whom may even be related to me. Felicia “Snoop” Pearson is one the most frightening female assassins to ever hit the television screen. She is the real deal, having actually killed another teenager in real life when she herself was only 14 at the time. There is no scene on television quite like her visit to Home Depot to buy a nail gun. You would have to Google “The Wire, Snoop at Home Depot”, to see what I mean.

On the Wednesday following the storm, one of my neighbors was brave enough to lift up one downed power line and allow several of us to move our cars to an area where they could be parked and driven if needed. We decided to move only one of our two cars out of the garage. This would allow us the freedom to drive around the neighborhood and to go to other local areas where travel was possible. We were even able to drive to a local Chinese restaurant later that day.

I was supposed to be leaving for Ireland the following Saturday. However, the trip was cancelled by the folks in Ireland, which had nothing to do with our storm in the U.S. Realizing that my trip was cancelled, Cecelia and I decided to drive to D.C. for the weekend (where there was electricity and heat). We knew we would be taking a chance because gas lines were extremely long. However, I anticipated correctly that as you drove further south on the NJ turnpike, the gas lines became shorter and shorter, and by the time we got to Delaware, the lines were so normal, you’d think there had been no storm. We spent the entire weekend in DC and only returned on the following Monday afternoon. This Monday was the day before the Presidential Election, and it was very cold. It was so cold that we knew it would be difficult stay in the house on this night. We called around forever, and finally found an available spot at the Hilton in Parsippany, NJ. We reserved a room for two nights.

Of course, as soon as we checked into our room, our neighbor called to let us know that the power, which had been out for a week had finally come back on. Since we were already in the room, we chose to stay at the hotel for one night and checked out the next day, which was Election Day. We did not have to vote since we had mailed hour absentee ballots several weeks earlier.

The next day Cecelia returned to work, but I chose to work from home. Although we had electrical power, which was wonderful, cable was till down, which meant that there was neither internet access nor TV. Although I can work from home, sometimes it is difficult if you don’t have access to the internet, so I spent most of Election Day at the local Panera Bread which did have Wi-Fi.

When I was at Panera Bread, I ran into some of the older folks who I had met at the shelter the previous week. They were all retirees, so they did not have to work in any case. They were surprised to learn that we had actually driven to D.C. and back the past weekend.

Later that Tuesday evening we listened to the election results on the radio since we still had no cable. By 11 pm – Carl Rove not withstanding – the results were already known.

That night, although we still had not completely recovered from the devastation caused by SANDY, for one night at least, I was able to fall into deep comforting sleep, and dream about all of the myriad “wonders” that the world has in store for us.

Jerome Pearson

Wayne, NJ

The Dead

by Jerome Pearson

October 2010

When I was a child, I was afraid of dead people.  Upon hearing of a new death, I was not immediately focused on the sadness of what happened, but, instead, on the possibility that the person who died might want to include me in the mix.  As a kid, I rarely slept during the night upon learning of a new death.

During my life, I have always lived not far from cemeteries. They seemed to follow me wherever I moved to.  I was always told that you should never point into the direction of a cemetery because your finger would rot.  As an example, if you wanted to say that so and so when in a particular direction, if a cemetery was in that direction, you were not to point your finger. You might just lose it.  I was born near a cemetery, the name of which I had never known. We moved away when I was about 5. In those middle years, I lived near another cemetery called Ivory. Then when I was 11, we moved back closer to the first cemetery. And then, when I was in the seventh grade, our bus driver lost control of our bus on a dirt road one day, and that bus ran right smack into that same cemetery, barely missing the first tombstone. Kids were screaming, and then the driver backed out and we continued on our way. Of course, high school kids were the drivers during those days.

I always thought that dead people liked to linger around at night.  They were nocturnal creatures.  It seemed that those first few days after a death, the “Dead”, were always in purgatory, which is a temporary lock-up between Earth and Heaven, or Hell in some cases.  This would be the time for them to seek their revenge. And even if I had done nothing wrong to them, or the fact that they did not even know me, I still felt that for some reason they would be out to get me.

There was one particular year I was even afraid to go to bed.  At least, I afraid to go to bed first. The boys in our house shared one room, and I was not about to be the first one to enter that room at night if there had been a recent death. I thought my siblings were thinking the same thing, because we would each stay up as late as possible to see who dared first enter the vacant room. Perhaps this was only my imagination.

Dead people showed up in many forms.  Sometimes they returned as a “haint”, and they would ride you at night.  You could feel them when they came over you while lying in bed, and slowly lowering themselves onto you, and then you would become paralyzed, and unable to move or speak.  A “haint” was never violent, and never really harmed you, but seemed to get its kick by just riding you for a few minutes, and then disappearing into the night. Haints existed in my life for many years, even into adulthood.  I can even recall one Sunday night in Germany, lying in my bed, and feeling a haint slowly lowering itself onto me as I slept. This was very strange feeling because you could feel it coming, yet you were unable to move out of its way. And then finally, it would disappear. It seemed to me that a haint arrive on Sunday nights mostly.

Sometimes they showed up as dust in a field.   Have you ever noticed a field where there is dust spinning in about a 10-yard radius and about 5 feet high?  I was told that the spinning dust was the symbolism of a dead spirit, spiraling out of control, kind of like a small non-violent tornado.  When I would see this dust, I used to wonder “who could it be?”  Spirits were always the dead- form of the living.    So, if I thought it was a spirit, I would think about who had recently died, and were perhaps out on a kind of probation, as they awaited their final fate, longing to commit more crimes, before that final and everlasting lock-up. Old people would see this dust, and they would say “that ain’t nobody but John!” Of course, John, would be person who had recently passed.

It was said that when a person dies, immediately after dying they make a quick visit to every place they have ever been.  I did not know what this meant, and how was it possible?   How can a person within, a blink of an eye, return to every place they had ever visited? And why would they want to?

However, I remember one “breezy” and “windy” Friday, somewhere around 1970; I heard that a man name RD had died.  Shortly after hearing of his death on this windy Friday morning, I heard our screen door slam shut, but when I investigated, there was no one there.  So, I was thinking that perhaps RD had just made his quick and final visit to our house because, after all, while living, he did come to our house sometimes to buy whisky.    I was happy that this return visit was occurring during the day, and not at night.  

But then a few hours later, I heard the screen door slam shut again.  Again no one was there.  I was thinking that perhaps Mr. D had forgotten that he had already been at our house earlier during that day, and was just crossing his “t” s and dotting his “i” s.  Or perhaps, he was returning for one last swig of corn liquor before the long trip. 

By nighttime, the wind had subsided, and the door did not slam shut again, but I did not put 2 and 2 together.  Luckily for me, Mr. D was such a gentle man in life that I could not imagine him returning to do harm to anyone in death.  But he was still a suspect, so I kept my eyes opened.

Dead people were kept in funeral homes.   When someone died, I would often hear the question:  Who got the body?  Basically, people wanted to know where the dead was currently being held.  In my hometown, people wanted to know whether it was Samuels, Flemings, King, or some other establishment.  People always preferred one funeral home or another.  People would say: “Hayes Samuels’s sho made Leroy look good.  As a matter of fact, he looks better in that casket than in life.   Man! He just looked like he was sleeping!”  So, Samuels is good, whereas some other establishment might have messed up a time or two in the past, like putting on too much make-up, or creating an unbecoming hairdo. 

People would say, “When it is my time, and I went from yanh, ah want Samuels to have my body.  Don’t send me to such and such, because I’ll be angry, and might come back to see who made the decision, because I got plenty of “in surance”, mo than a thousand dollars, and I keeps up my payments.”  “And they better not put me in no black bag or a pine box like they did Julia Mae son, cause he aint had no surance.” 

In the south, on the day of the funeral, the entire funeral convoy would show up at the home of the deceased. The hearse would be leading the way, followed by other large vehicles. They would make a U-turn and then line up in the direction that would lead to the church. Then other cars would line up behind the funeral convoy. And then the convoy would make that slow trip to the Church. I would be surprised to see Police Cars leading the way and controlling traffic. It would be the only time in my mind that the police appeared to be in a friendly disposition. I had long feared the police, but the first time I observed them controlling the traffic, I gained a new respect.  

As the convoy began moving forward, I would often hear a particular relative in another vehicle exclaiming, “yes Lord, yes Jesus” and then she would reverse it, “Yes Jesus, yes Lord!”

Thinking of the word “dead”, I remember one summer back in 1972, I was riding on a wagon with my neighbors and her grandsons.  We were riding on a wagon which was being pulled by a mule.  As we were leaving the yard on the wagon, and later onto the highway, one of their dogs ran alongside the wagon barking at the mule, nearly getting trampled by the wheels of the wagon. Her grandson, R, had a whip which he used to lash out at the dog, trying to make it return home before getting hurt.  After trying to get him to stop on more than a few occasions, an exasperated Mrs. L finally says: “Leave em alone R! If he wanna dead, ley em dead!”  From that moment onward, every time we saw R, we would say, “If he wanna dead, ley em dead!”

The dead would also show up as a Jack-o-lantern.  For some people Jack-o-lanterns only came out during Halloween.  But to me, they seemed to come out on dark, rainy nights, and it could be anytime of the year.   They were always hiding in the woods or fields.   If on a dark, rainy night I saw a light in the woods, or in the middle of some field, I knew it must be a Jack-o-lantern.  Jack-o-lantern only bothered you if you came to the field or in the woods.  So, at least, you didn’t have to worry about them coming to your house.

Some dead people showed up as themselves, so I was told.  I never saw one, but others would claim such things as: “I saw my grandmother sitting on the edge of her bed just as plain as day.  She was wearing that same white dress they buried her in.  I think she was trying to tell me not to marry that woman who is having my baby.  I think my grandmother was trying telling me that the baby was not even mine.  So, I think I gon back outta that wedding fore it’s too late; I’m going over there this afternoon and tell Doris it’s cancelled.”  Dead people were always smarter in Death than they were in life.

Back to funeral homes, there was a bit of apprehension when entering them.  They seem to all have such dark curtains, and rooms that seem to lead to places I never wanted to go.  And that awful music!   I must admit, I am a bit non-traditional in my thoughts and beliefs, so please bear with me.  I can never understand this desire to see dead people once they have been prepared for burial.  I don’t see what purpose it serves.  People rarely look like themselves.

I remember one night going to a wake for a cousin who been recently killed. He was 24 years old and had recently moved to Baltimore when his Mother received a call one Saturday Morning stating that he had been shot while playing dice.  His body would be shipped back to South Carolina.  The body was given to another Flemings funeral home located in manning.  I can remember standing in the funeral home just looking at him.  One of those sad records were playing in the background.  Suddenly, the record, which was playing had finished, and then I was hearing that static sound that occurs at the end of the record, although I did not realize that it was the record.  For a brief few second, I was about to dash out of the funeral home because I thought he was beginning to snore.

 I now know that there is really no reason to fear the dead.   Death is only the continuation of life. 

Plants and things in nature live but only one season.  But each spring or summer they blossom with so much delight that they must be thinking that they would live forever. 

In one way, perhaps they do.  In some ways perhaps we all do. Perhaps, there is no such thing as death.

Perhaps there can only be life.  We only move from one phase to the next, and there is no reason to ever be afraid.

But I always keep my eyes open!

Jerome