Here Comes the Hurricane

Weather events have the power to mark time and become vivid memories. The memories range from traumatic, where the remnants reverberate forever into the future, to exhilarating and become a talisman for future ventures. Most, however, are a good story. 

Grand Prompt to Ask Your Grands

Memorable Storms

*Did the storm have a name? *What year did it happen? *Who was with you? *How did you prepare? *Were you scared? *What happened during the storm and after the storm? *What were the sounds of the storm? *What did it look and feel like during and after the storm?

Hurricane Belle 1976.

The Atlantic shore of Long Island borders the alleyway for named hurricanes and tropical storms. They show up from August to late October and leave various levels of beach erosion, floods, and damaged trees, electric, telephone lines, and property. In my corner of Long Island, Fire Island’s 32 miles stretch of beach is the barrier to storm rages. There had been countless storms that shaped the geography and memories of Long Islanders. Hurricane Belle was the first big storm I remember. 

My family moved to Sayville in 1968, with the Great South Bay as our backyard and Fire Island in our view. It’s a bucolic spot, but a storm can change its serenity in minutes. A strong southwest wind whips the bay into a white-capped frenzy, splashing salt water onto my mom’s garden (Not to worry. After a storm, Mom drenched and tended to her flowers and vegetables, saving all her hard work). Nor’easters beat the bulkhead. My little brother claimed the house sang as the wind blew around house’s corners and over the roof. Sometimes the wind was so fierce that the big windows facing the bay flexed, threatening to shatter into the house. Dad kept a stash of plywood to fit over the windows to prepare for a big storm. 

In 1976, Hurricane Belle barreled up the east coast. The Weather Channel was not yet invented, but the nightly news predicted a powerful storm. My Uncle Joe and cousins, Marc and Paul, were visiting from California. They arrived in time to help us cover the big windows, truss up the garden, and secure the boats. Mom stocked the fridge with the proverbial milk and bread as well as cold cuts, salads, sodas and chips. Everyone had a job. I don’t remember if there was an evacuation order. I’m sure it was suggested. In any case, my family stayed put. We lay blankets and pillows in the front living room away from the big windows so we could picnic and play cards and board games during the storm. 

As the sky clouded and the wind and rain escalated, birds disappeared, leaving an eerie silence. The day quickly darkened as the bay became a sea of whitecaps, slamming into the bulkheads. Rain pelted the roof and small windows obscuring the view beyond the back door. Wind sang and the house trembled. Electric & phones went out. 

No one felt scared. We played cards and board games under the light of flashlights and snacked on chips and soda. A battery operated radio transmitted reports through the static reception.

After some time, the rain subsided and the thunderous wind stopped. We went outside and looked up at the eye of the storm. Gray silence pulsed around us. The swirl of clouds parted, letting the sun beam down and showing the blue of sky. The bay took a breath and lay still. We could see across  to Fire Island. 

We took quick inventory of damage. Green leaves and branches covered the lawn and street. Gutters remained attached, trees stood in place. Dad checked the bulkhead—a few loose boards, nothing serious. The street was not flooded (advantages of low tide). Dad, Uncle Joe and the boys drove the car around the corner to check on the boat. They returned just as the sky swirled back. Wind raced and the bay whipped into a frenzy from the opposite direction.The sunny hole closed up as Belle resumed her path. 

Back inside, my family returned to cards, jokes,  and sandwiches. Mom shut off the static radio leaving us with the sounds of pounding waves, howling winds, and pelting rain as background noise. 

Once Hurricane Belle continued its wrath to the east end of Long Island, we went out into the gentle rain. Damage was minimal. Mom’s tomato plants toppled and thick tree branches littered the lawn and driveway. A few “dummy boards” from the bulkhead came loose, but Dad could fix them later. The basement flooded, but it always flooded when the sump pump power source failed. Neighbors walked out of their homes to check on each other. Friends wandered into the yard to see the bay (and us) and confirm that Fire Island remained. 

There have been many others hurricanes and nor’easters. I am thankful that my families were never displaced nor suffered devastating property damage.

Hurricane Belle was my first memorable big storm. Six month later, I was in college at State College in Buffalo when the Big Snow of ‘77 buried the city. Another story.

What was your first memorable big storm?

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Great BIG Thanks and appreciation go out to Natalie the Explorer who keeps the Weekend Coffee Share percolating.

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