Stormy Weather and a Blowhard Governor

In mid-week, Hurricane Joaquin got to churning in the Atlantic Ocean.  Forecasts were uncertain but couldn’t rule out the prospect of landfall on the Atlantic coast.  T and I sprung into action, checking our disaster supplies and otherwise setting ourselves up to weather whatever storm emerged.

We are always emergency-ready so this wind-up was a matter of filling our cars with gas and organizing emergency supplies to be in one location.  I was impressed at the degree to which my local utility (PSE&G) and the New Jersey Office of Emergency Management were active on Twitter letting people know what needs to be done to be storm-ready.  They fostered awareness without causing panic.

As the storm began to move further east in the Atlantic Ocean, reducing our risk of landfall, Governor Chris Christie turned up in the state (he is never here anymore), declared a state of emergency and gave local press conferences again.  He promised that the state was ready but in this he was flat-out wrong.  His Administration has done nothing to require gas stations to have generators so that we don’t experience the post-Sandy gas shortages that made things worse in 2012.  Local communities have been given no emergency-management funds to prepare either charging stations or improved disaster communication.  Most of the post-Sandy shoreline re-building happened without a requirement that homes be raised up to resist tidal flooding or, better yet, not built in flood plains at all.  In most shore towns, serious beach erosion prevention plans were neither made nor executed.  The  $100 million worth of NJ Transit train cars we lost from poor storage decisions in Sandy is rarely discussed and our Transportation Secretary was caught up in the on-going Bridgegate/United Airlines bribery and scandal debacle.  On Friday evening, just after 5 pm, he resigned from office.  The Christie Administration was publicity-ready, but wasn’t disaster-ready.  

So, oddly, while I think the citizens are more disaster-aware in the post-Sandy years, our government is less prepared.  We are less prepared because post-Sandy, we know more about what needs to be done and we haven't done it.  This is ironic for a Governor whose name got national attention after Sandy.  It wasn’t really warranted then, by the way.  It isn’t warranted now.

Hurricane Journal: Sandy at One Year

As the one-year anniversary of Superstorm Sandy has approached, my local public radio station has  been asking listeners "how is your life different since the storm?"  My first response to the question was to consider that nothing had really fundamentally changed.  My home wasn't damaged beyond repair, my life and my town were not completely upended.  Within a few weeks of the storm, I no longer startled when the electricity flashed.  I quickly resumed a normal life.

Upon reflection, though, I realize that it's rather a new normal.  In my daily life, I still see evidence of the storm.  Everywhere I go are trees and branches now down for good; wides swaths of the woods now different.  On virtually every street I drive each day are power lines that have been re-hung since the storm.  On my street and many streets all around me are homes in the midst of repair.  I am more aware than ever that my share of the storm damage was both limited and small.  I am incredibly grateful for that blessing.  In the bigger picture, when I hear stories of weather apocalypse elsewhere, I am immediately on alert and sympathetic to the meaning of such events in people's daily lives.  I never see a power crew, whether in-state or out-of-state, without waving a friendly greeting.  I check the weather forecast and pay careful attention to forecasts that may deviate from normal.  My emergency supplies are up-to-date.  So life is back to normal but it is a new normal.

I'm also aware that neither my state nor my local government has done enough to prepare for the next super-storm.   There is half-hearted recognition of climate change around here, though no conversations or specific plans to adjust our lives to it or, heaven-forbid, change our lives to protect the planet.  Billions of dollars have been spent on Sandy repairs but a lot of practical preparation for the larger community is yet un-done.  On the Jersey shore, people are still demanding to live in flood-prone areas (and they want government-subsidized and cheap flood insurance to do so).  In the meantime, plenty of middle-class folks are still struggling to effect repairs to their flood-damaged homes and businesses.  Our state has only recently developed a plan for getting back-up electricity to gas stations or towns in the event of widespread power losses.  Few details of that plan have been shared with the public.  There has been no state-wide conversation about household disaster readiness.  

What has changed for me since Sandy is that I know we must do all of these things.  We must adjust our lives to the reality of climate change.  I remember how tenuous civilization feels in the face of disaster.  I see that we have a great deal of work to complete.

In the Flood Zone

In the aftermath of Sandy, FEMA issued new flood maps for the coastal areas in my part of the world.  The objective of these flood maps is to map out areas where flooding is likely so that homeowners can make plans (some folks need to raise their homes) or pay flood insurance rates that reflect their actual potential for serious damage.  Both prospects are expensive, of course, but they are also what is required to live by the water in the world of climate change.  

Or so you would think.  As it turns out, the news that more homes are in the high-risk flood regions, information that is hardly surprising news for people who flooded last fall, has caused endless complaining and hand-wringing in New Jersey.  There has been enough complaining for FEMA to issue new maps.  The new maps show less risk, thus ensuring that these folks can get less-expensive flood insurance and will undertake less flood prevention measures.

That would be just fine with me if the homeowners were really on their own.  But in point of fact, when flooding happens, and it will happen, homeowners along the shore will want help from the rest of us.  They will want that help despite the obvious risks they undertook.  I find this terribly frustrating.  Folks who want to live by the water are undertaking a risk and I am all for allowing that risk as a personal choice.  However, let's generate cautious flood maps, ones that take account of the serious risks of living near the water, and force those who wish to do so to pay the real costs of that choice.

Let's also undertake to plan wisely for the climate change that is obviously already at our doorstep.  That's a project for citizens and their government and it won't be easy.  But it is a a lot easier than cleaning up the aftermath of disastrous storms.  And it is our responsibility to one another.  New York City's Mayor Bloomberg has a plan for discussion.  It's not perfect and it is controversial but it at least starts a conversation.  New Jersey should take a page from the Bloomburg playbook and start a serious conversation.  The current strategy of hiding our head in the sand is not going to help.

The New Normal

Despite the relative cold of the past two months, we haven't had any measurable snow this winter.  I awakened to a dusting of snow on Tuesday and Wednesday, enough to require sweeping the front walk, but not enough to grab the shovel.  Those mornings, I eyeballed the forecast for today's storm and concluded it would be a problem for folks north and east of us.

Yesterday, the forecast models began to look menacing for a larger swath of the northeast and now New Jersey is forecast to get anywhere from 4 inches to a foot of snow.  The bulk of the snow was forecast to start this afternoon, making for an unpleasant Friday afternoon commute.   Early Thursday evening, the headmaster at my school called a snow day for today.  So I went to the grocery store to stock up.  There was moderate panic at the local market, with the bread and milk supplies looking slim.

When I got up this morning, a light snow had just started to fall.  The National Weather service is warning of a blizzard when the Nor'easter comes together this afternoon.  When I turned on NPR this morning, I learned that the state of New Jersey has already opened it's weather emergency office for the weekend.  For most of the late morning and early afternoon, we've been getting sleet that is accumulating to an unpleasant icy sheen.

Understandably, we're all a little gun shy about weather these days.  I've got my supplies at the ready in the event that we lose power.  Usually, snow days are cause for sleeping in and then enjoyment of a relaxed day under the blankets.  To be sure, there has been plenty of that.  But it's also clear that none of us are yet ready to take normal for granted.

Weather PTSD

Earlier this week was the three month anniversary of Hurricane Sandy's landfall in this region.  All week, my local public radio station, WNYC, has had stories about the storm and its continuing aftermath.  Down the street from my house, a home partially destroyed in the storm is finally being repaired.  In my neighborhood, recovery is happening.

Even so, there is evidence of the storm everywhere I look, from the stumps of downed trees to the piles of brush and brambles.  There are downed trees in the woods around me.  In the evening, as I turn on the lights with ease, I sometimes pause and remember the cold and darkness of those days last fall.

Last week, it was freezing cold.  This week, temperatures kept warming.  Yesterday, it was in the 50s and this morning we had a humid day with temps near 60.  My neighbors and I, bringing recycling bins in from the curb, stopped to enjoy a chat in the evening's unusual warmth.

As we agreed that the warmth felt lovely, R, a native to New Jersey, pointed out that this kind of warmth in the winter never ends well.  He's right, of course.  Right on cue, there are wind, flood, and hazardous weather warnings for the overnight.  A powerful cold front may bring us as much as 3 inches of rain in 12 hours, rain that can't possibly be absorbed by frozen ground.  It's expected to be accompanied by gusting winds of up to 60 mph.  There's yet another risk of power outages, both because of the threatening weather and because many of us are using power lines that are still awaiting permanent structural repairs from last fall's storm.   PSE&G, my amazing local utility, sent out tweets and e-mails to remind us of their emergency response measures.  I am charging my cell phone and the other electronics.  I filled my car with gas.  My emergency supplies are in order, as they always are these days.  I'm not expecting a problem, but neither am I ever inclined to take risks or take things for granted.  I am prepared.  And that is the residual effect of Hurricane Sandy, a kind of low-level vigilance that Mother Nature demands these days.

Thursday morning update: For a few hours in the middle of the night, the storm was quite windy (of the sustained 40 mph variety).  Naturally, that led to sleeplessness on my part.  But I awakened to a home with electricity, for which I was grateful.  Cable and internet are out and JT is not amused.  I am more sanguine and just glad that most of the storm is over.  This morning's winds are less fierce and the rain has mostly stopped, though winter has returned.  It was 58 degrees when I got up at 5:30 am; right now, at just after 8 am, it's 46 degrees.

The Snapping Point

Like so much of New Jersey, my school lost electricity during Hurricane Sandy.  We were closed for nine days.  When we finally returned I had only had my power back for two days.  In all of my classes, there were students whose lives still had not returned to normal.

Soon after we returned to classes, the school determined that we would make up eight of the nine days that we lost to the storm.  The decision was made quickly, at a time when parents were anxious about the time lost and before winter had begun.  We were assured that snow days would proceed as normal and that time lost to snow would not also be added to the schedule.

The give-back days started in November, when a day scheduled day for parent-teacher conferences was converted to a teaching day.  Two more days were  taken from Winter Break.  So we returned to classes yesterday instead of Monday, January 7, as originally planned.  

Not surprisingly, attendance was a bit lighter-than-normal, and we're all still a little sluggish.  When we broke in December, I sent my students home without work to complete, mindful that we were all rather exhausted.  Normally, I try not to have major tests or assignments in December, but this year, with four weeks of classes between Thanksgiving and Winter Break, and mindful of the time already lost, I did give some tests.  Grading that stack of exams over the Break confirmed my view that my students were more stressed out than usual.  I was glad that I had sent them home for rest in my class, though I know that policy was by no means uniform.

Though the kids had no work over the break, I had a truckload of tests and quizzes to grade.  It took me nearly three days to complete the work and was yet another reason to be glad of a roomy dining room table.

As I plan for the second semester of school, I'm mindful that in addition to continuing to catch up with teaching material lost to the storm, I need to be aware of students who remain a little more stressed than usual.  A new year feels like a new opportunity and it surely is that.  But we've five more vacation days yet to give back and I fear we'll all be strung so tight that we'll snap before the school year is over.

Sigh.