Flooding in New Jersey

I’ve been walking this week as I usually do in the early mornings. Walking the streets of the neat little Levittown-type “starter” homes built behind my gym in the 1950’s and 60’s -- as farm-land was gobbled up by developers. Walking – and trying not to cry.

In case you haven’t been paying attention – we had a huge rain and wind storm last weekend in the NYC metro area. Trees came down on power lines, cars and homes. And rivers came up. And up and up and up until the flooding in northern and central New Jersey equaled or even surpassed the modern benchmark – the April 1984 floods.

I covered that 1984 flood – as a local TV reporter for WWOR. And I’ve covered the subsequent major floods as I moved around the TV dial. The same streets and homes are always flooded. Some owners always need evacuation by boat and talking to them is always sad. You wonder why they go back flood after flood. Until you realize many of them have nowhere else to go. Buyout money has been available for years now in some flood plain areas – but even at market value it’s seldom enough to buy another house or even condo in the same general area. And towns don't push; they'd rather have wet ratables than untaxable parks.

By the time I started walking around the Village (as it’s called) this week, the water had mostly receded. And people had already piled their lives at the curbstone to be taken away by the town’s efficient bulk pickup trucks. Lovely velvet couches. Wooden cabinets. Multiple sections of rolled up, soggy rugs. Child-sized tables and chairs. And their toys. So many toys. Would there be money to replace them?

Do these often young families have flood insurance I wondered? It’s expensive and although the rivers overflow every few years or so – who expected another 100 year flood? Did those who recently bought one of these houses know they were moving into a flood plain? The homes are built on cement slabs. No basement where you may be able to discern water marks on the walls. A little new plasterboard and some paint and redecoration and voila! Who would know?

I talked to the young immigrant couple who runs the nearby deli where I buy my morning bagel and coffee. They were not familiar with our area when they took over the store – ravaged just a few years before by a previous flood and repaired. And although the river runs under the highway and comes out half a block behind the building --- no one told them before they rented the store about its history. At least 4 major floods that I can recall which typically fill the store’s basement with its electrical box and part of their kitchen with its bagel-making machinery with water. With some warning they had gotten most of their food out but they were trying to dry things out and then wash everything down with bleach. There was nothing I could do except say how sorry I was. Being people who spit in the face of adversity – the obviously devastated wife said simply, “we will come back. We have to.”

I realized today why all this is upsetting me so much –when I have seen it all so many times before. Then, I had a mic in my hand, a cameraperson next to me. I could take all those terribly sad stories and that compelling video, go to a town or county or FEMA official and say – what can you do for these people? What are YOU doing to help? It took the burden off my shoulders. We were helping too. Getting the story out. Pushing the ones with the power. Making connections. It’s what journalists do.

This week it’s just me, Ms Ordinary Person. Powerless without my crew and my platform.

Like all about me, I can only cry.