Irene came and went, but Oceanside survived

I left the house Sunday afternoon, braving the powerful — but now manageable — winds, wondering what I would find. Based on all the reports that had terrified me in advance of Hurricane Irene, I expected a post-apocalyptic world. Or, at least, a world in which boats were needed to pick up a carton of milk.

As I stepped out the door of my house, which had weathered the storm admirably, I couldn’t help but notice the juxtaposition between what I saw and what was playing on my portable radio. The radio was spouting out report after report of torrential floods, destruction and a death in New Jersey.

But the sight in front of me seemed to discount all I had heard. The street, despite being a mile south of the Merrick Road evacuation line, was dry. Half of the street had retained power, and the trees’ roots had held strong.

I thought the street must have been lucky, an elevated island in the sea that was the remains of Oceanside. I needed to see the rest of the town to confirm my suspicions. Plus, it was my job to get some pictures for the Herald. In many ways, the residents of my street were the lucky ones. I saw a canal in the middle of Oceanside Road and a river on Mott Street. Austin Boulevard in Island Park was more akin to an inland sea than a road.

Yellow police tape roped off Freeman Avenue in Oceanside where a large tree had fallen into a home. Leaves and branches scattered throughout both towns would require a long and difficult cleanup. As I walked, I was told of flooded basements and destroyed cars. Downed power lines could be seen on a number of streets.

But for all that, the only thought running through my mind was that we were lucky. The reports had terrified the Northeast coast, spurring evacuations both voluntary and mandatory.

There could be more than 10 inches of rain. The winds could gust up to 105 miles per hour. The storm surge, a term I had not even known two weeks ago, could bring in waters of 24 feet above sea level.

As I walked around, though, it was clear that none of those extremes had come to pass. What I did see was a determination and sense of community, which I had previously been unaware of.

Neighbors worked together to gather leaves and branches, while others lent water vacuums to clear out basement flooding. Boarded windows held words of defiance for Irene.

And Sunday traditions continued on despite, or in spite of, the hurricane, as 24 Hour Bagel boasted a line of customers out of its boarded-up door.

We withstood the rain, winds and surge. As I finished my tour, I realized it wasn’t only luck that saved our town, but also a strong sense of resiliency.