Generator-X
One father’s account of his family’s heroic survival for an entire week during Hurricane Sandy without a generator.
When I first read the Halloween week predictions for “Frankenstorm”, I was probably more amused than alarmed. But it soon became clear that the cold air, high tides, strong winds and other dreadful forces were expected to cause considerable heartache throughout the NY tri-state area. Still, I love a good storm and my wife and I made sure we had food, flashlights and candles. We made some ice and filled the bathtub. We told our five-year-old daughter to be ready for some disruption, probably a power outage. If she was lucky, she might miss a day of school. We gave her a flashlight and told her not to lose it.
I have fond memories of similar storm events which were always exciting for me growing up in Hackensack, NJ. Giant swamp maples lined our street, towering 30 feet above the tallest homes. When they crashed down, the root system would up-end sidewalks and the stems would cut homes in two. The spectacular scenes were something like the “Wizard of Oz”. After Hurricane David, friends help build a fort with limbs and a trunk of a downed tree. We “swam” in flood areas, made rafts with debris. In my memory, these were adventurous times, not worrisome ones.
Around 7pm, our power went out. We were giddy when we lit the candles and flashlights, having no idea how long we’d be using them. In past storms, power had been out for about two days. Once in 1996 an ice storm left our home without power for four days. Cold weather outages are harder because heating, even with fireplaces, is a chore, and not very effective.
Within an hour after the power failed, we heard the first generator fire up on our neighbor’s back deck. Generators are a new phenomenon in our neighborhood. After Hurricane Irene last year, the idea started catching on. My first reaction was, “whoa, that’s loud.” It was not a constant white noise but a pervasive chugging that fluctuated, presumably with power usage in the home. My bedroom window was about twenty feet from it. My neighbor assured me he would turn it off at night. I shrugged.
We put Marley to bed. She didn’t notice the generator. She went to turn on the nightlight in her room two or three times and said, “it’s not working”. We gently reminded her of what “no power” meant. It started sinking in. Jeanne read her stories with a flashlight as the winds picked up outside. We were a little concerned about a tall pin-oak on her side of the house. It twisted in the wind and swayed eight feet from side to side in the stronger gusts. We didn’t tell her. She was asleep soon. We joined Anthony, our upstairs friend and tenant, in the sunroom for wine and chips. From his windows, we watched the wind and the rain. We oooh’ed and ah’ed as several electrical transformers exploded in the distance.
The grid went dark five blocks at a time. As the winds reached maximum velocity, cracks and bangs shook the windows.
By 11pm, the cloud bands of the hurricane were breaking. The neighborhood was dark and the few stars that poked through seemed like distant stage lights. The wind slowed down to gusts of 25mph as it swept through the remaining maple and oak tree leaves. Branches were scattered on lawns, sidewalks, and streets. Without light, it was hard to assess damage to our house or the surrounding homes. We heard some sirens, a few barking dogs, and the loud chugging of our neighbor’s generator which powered only his stairwell, kitchen, and refrigerator (for now).
The danger had passed and by morning, we saw that the tree which had made the loudest thud had struck a neighbor’s home, breaking windows and damaging the eaves and gutters. One tree fell on power lines, snapping two utilities poles anchored at either end. Our house lost some shingles and siding, but nothing more.
We spent time organizing the refrigerator, moving items into the freezer containing our frozen gallons of water. We had also charged two laptops and a power-pack for our smart phones.
Many businesses were closed, but I work in local government and was called in to help coordinate a response to the storm. Jeanne and Marley spent the day getting ready for a temporary life without power. Marley still tried to turn the TV on, thinking that the green light on the battery powered remote meant the TV should work too. She turned light switches on habitually only to say “oh yeah”.
With daylight savings time upon us, night came quick. Every neighborhood for miles was dark, save a few lucky blocks. I came back to a home dimly lit with flame and battery powered candles. Jeanne decided to barbecue a steak before we lost it. We used the tapered candles that sat for years as decoration on our windowsill. We were surprised by how much light they gave off to the food on the table below. Shorter candles don’t do that.
After dinner, we made coffee using an old percolator that once belonged to my parents and that we found in the attic. We marveled at how the glass carafe and narrow stem could stand the heat. The coffee was excellent. We traded stories about our day. This was “cabbage night” as we call it in Hackensack. With “Frankenstorm” causing as much mischief as anyone could stand, there was no toilet paper in the trees or smashed eggs on cars and homes that night. Police were enforcing a curfew to prevent any chance of looting. We went to bed early, hearing only the generator next door, now running all night.
Wednesday brought colder weather. Before I went to work, Marley and I gathered twigs and sticks for kindling. She played on the swing too, but we moved her inside when she started coughing. After another crazy day at work, sorting out power and communication issues, I came home to hear another generator from the neighbor’s house on the right. Forty eight hours after the storm, and 90% of the city of about 45,000 people was without power.
2.75 million people were powerless in New Jersey. Temperatures were steadily dipping into the 30’s in the first cold spell of the season. We made dinner using whatever we thought might spoil. We joked about how much we enjoyed our candle-lit dinners. I surprised Marley with a handful of candy that I grabbed off a co-worker’s desk. We ate by a fire we started with her kindling. We read these and other Halloween poems that I found when I Googled “Halloween Poems” on my smartphone: Fraidie Cat, by Clinton Scollard; Good B's and Bad T's, by Winifred Sackville Stoner, Jr.; The Nine Little Goblins, by James Whitcomb Riley; The Night Wind, by Eugene Field; Only Naughty Children See "Spooks" on Halloween , by Winifred Sackville Stoner, Jr. and The Owl, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. On another night, we read The Raven by E. Allen Poe and watched a very good narration of The Cremation of Sam McGee (author unknown) on YouTube. I would also strum my guitar and Marley and I would practice Big Top Candy Mountain.
Marley fell asleep in front of the fireplace and we carried her to bed, now with extra covers. Leaving the warmth of the living room, we found the rest of the house much colder. I took a stroll up the block to check on power line repairs and tree debris removal. Work was progressing, but the streets were still dark. I heard at least three more generators on nearby streets. One home had lights on in nearly every room. A boy played X-box on a wall-sized TV in the living room. Even the light in the garage was on, the door wide open.
Anthony's girlfriend needed fuel to get to work so he came home to retrieve the five gallons I had for my lawn equipment. Later, we learned that there was a supply issue caused by the inability of tankers to off-load at power-short ports. Supply problems quickly cascaded until State and Federal authorities intervened. Lines for gas were more than three hours at some locations, with tempers flaring. Many people were filling canisters to fuel their generators -- some to power their furnace and refrigerator, but some to power their TV’s. (You know who you are.) The next day, I saw the neighbor whose home was totally lit. I asked him how he was doing. His reply was, “Great. It’s like the storm never happened.”
I came home to find Jeanne snug in bed reading Gone Girl with my camper’s headlamp. Chilled, I threw another log on the fire, and read news about the upcoming elections, storm coverage, etc. I could tell what time it was by how many logs I burned. I was in constant contact with co-workers as we continued to cope with lack of power and communications.
The next morning, I heard from both right and left neighbors who were genuinely concerned that we had no generator. How would we stay warm? Isn’t Marley bored? Isn’t our food spoiled? I provided assurance that we’d be ok, - really. Glancing at the forecast, however, I had second thoughts. Freezing temperatures were expected over the coming nights, and wood was running low. Jeanne took Marley to the Mall for a change of scenery. Free charging stations were set up, along with free WiFi. Shelters were also set up throughout the area and, with colder weather, many people took advantage. Jeanne’s parents, a few counties away in rural New Jersey (yes, it’s there), stayed with friends. Inoperable electric pumps meant no well water. Luckily, my Mom’s power in Connecticut was up after 48 hours.
When the three of us rendezvoused for dinner, we decided to sleep in the basement where another fireplace could more efficiently heat the room. Marley helped crumple newspaper to supplement another box of her kindling. With no school for a week and no TV, she and mom worked on spelling, penmanship and reading. Marley read me a book, impressing us both. We played some games on the smartphone, - Angry Birds, Diamond Blast, Archery, 3D bowling. Before going to bed, I turned off the battery powered candles. They were a little dimmer after several nights’ use. I rotated the ice in the freezer (quickly), consolidated food, and took stock. We were in good shape for another day or so, -- when power would surely come back. Target and other stores had serious supply problems with many shelves empty and long lines. We still had a big Tupperware container of emergency canned food and rice.
Sleeping by the fire was not easy for me. I’ve seen similar “balloon frame” homes in the neighborhood go up in flames. We took precautions to make sure the grill-mesh was in place, damper open, and flammables (blankets, pillows) kept well away from popping embers. Having camped with me several times, Marley understands the danger (and usefulness) of fire. It took several nights of trial and error to properly “time” the heat which dissipates quickly. At best, we could bring the room to about 64 degrees on a night where the outside temperature had dropped to 38 degrees. By morning, with just hot embers, the room temperature was 54 degrees. When I would wake up to go to the bathroom, I would throw another log on and sleep with one eye open. I would also try to be up before Marley and Jeanne to stoke the fire, but Marley liked to help by tearing and crumbling newspaper (also running low).
One neighbor with a generator offered to run a line to our furnace. I declined for now but explained I might go that route if wood ran out or temperatures dropped drastically. This was a quandary for me: so far, we were not complicit in exacerbating the gasoline shortage by using a generator. By accepting a life-line from my neighbor, our hands would be tainted (tainted, but warm). Our house was getting colder, though, and Marley’s cough was not getting better. Jeanne and I wrestled with dilemma.
Aside from the room temperature, we were ok. The freezer/ice-box was now storing just milk, eggs, butter, cooked leftovers, some chocolate, and beer. It was easily as cold as a normally functioning refrigerator after Jeanne replenished it with a bag of ice bought from at a convenience store which recently regained power. When the temperature was colder on the last night, we moved the milk to an outside cooler with ice and iced cream for Marley. We learned to cook dinner while we still had daylight.
On day six, Marley said she wanted a generator. I asked what she would do with it. She said she would watch TV. I asked her what she would watch. She said Corpse Bride (Tim Burton). I pulled up clips on YouTube. She was happy. She watched related videos about other Burton films and Halloween costumes. Out of sympathy, I let her nearly drain the battery before charging it again on the power-pack -- now displaying a low-power indicator.
Low on wood, food, and battery power, Marley and I took a bike ride to check out the neighborhood. Her cough wasn’t as bad and she needed fresh air. Temperatures climbed above 50 degrees. We watched PSEG crews repairing downed lines over impassable streets. We heard generators, maybe three per block.
During our after-dinner status meeting, we decided Jeanne and Marley would brave the lines for non-perishable foods and limited dairy products. I would try to find a wood supplier and bring the power-pack and laptops to work to charge them. Our offices were also operating on back-up generators with fuel running low.
PSEG remained tight-lipped about power restoration dates, making it difficult for people to make decisions. Businesses on Main Street were hemorrhaging money. One restaurant tossed $10,000 in spoiled food, even as grocery stores sold out and people foraged. Gasoline lines got longer, with a gun being pulled in one frightening instance and a machete in another. National Guard helicopters flew directly over our house two times. It was getting weird out there.
By Monday, I had given up trying to shave. Showers were no problem because we still had gas-fueled hot water heaters. We were so grateful for that. When I got to work on Monday carrying my power-pack and assorted batteries, one coworker remarked that I look tired and noticeably thinner. As I plugged in my batteries to charge, I started to wonder if I was crazy. Why don’t we have a generator? Why should my home smell like a smokehouse? Why should Marley and Jeanne have to wake up cold? Why am I putzing around with an ice-box when my neighbors are playing X-Box? Why don’t we just check into a hotel?
These questions nagged me for hours until Jeanne texted me that our power was on. She got word from our neighbor and rushed home from the grocery store to confirm. Just like in Ray Bradbury’s ‘There Will Come Soft Rains’, the TV was playing the same channel that was on before the event. Marley turned a light switch on, then off, then on again. She giggled. Jeanne let her watch three episodes of Mr. Men.
In the hours that followed, power was restored to an empty Main Street. We had dinner by candle light one last time just, we joked, to celebrate our power. One by one, the generators were silenced, except for the first one I had heard a full week ago. My neighbor damaged his thermostat when he hooked his furnace back up to it. Thirty six hours after electricity is restored, I am listening to it as I type. I have to wonder if it will ever stop.
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To Marley: I wrote this so you wouldn’t forget our adventure. You made the best of bad situation. You adapted to change and learned to make do “without.” You realized the benefits of “power” and that it is not something to be taken for granted. You learned to take advantage of daylight. You challenged yourself to read and you learned new words, like “wick” and “ration.” You now know what “cold” and “dark” really mean and what it means to be “warm” and “safe”. You were part of a team that worked together to overcome adversity. You did not complain about what you didn’t have, but contented yourself with what you did have. Even if you don’t remember everything, you’ll never look at a light switch the same way again.
