Thank Sandy for Scattered Thoughts

I pray the reader’s indulgence for the scattered thoughts before, during and after Hurricane Sandy:
Who would ever think pine bark mulch could be a problem? Ask Avalon Mayor and county Emergency Manager Martin Pagliughi about the stuff that makes flower beds look prettier. He’ll tell you.
As Hurricane Sandy deluged the Jersey Cape with oceans from the sky, and the Oct. 29, 3 p.m. press conference had just ended on the second floor of the county library building. The edifice to multi-media knowledge was leaking like a sieve. Plastic tarps protected floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with non-fiction tomes. The main man let me in on a little-known fact of life: pine bark turns into a forest of trouble on days like this.
Okay, not a forest, just a mega-sized cork in storm drains. Makes sense, it’s almost lighter than air, and when heavy rains flood flower beds, the stuff floats away, like a paycheck on Friday night. Where does it go? Down the drain, the same as a paycheck.
Then, ensconced under the streets of places like Avalon, Stone Harbor, Sea Isle City and Cape May, to name just a few, those little bark chips join their pals and, wham! Just like that, the storm drain is plugged like a bathtub. Water backs up more and more, and soon, the street above is flooded. All because of mulch, specifically pine bark mulch.
Pagliughi said there is other mulch that could be used that doesn’t float away as readily, so sometime after normalcy returns to the Jersey Cape, it’s likely a memo will be sent, or meeting held with landscapers not to use pine bark mulch.
But mulch, at this point, is the least of anyone’s worries.
Sand dunes, which similarly get little to no respect, are like mulch. Until they hold the ocean at bay, as in the catastrophic storm of Oct. 28-29, or are breeched and waves crash through, sand dunes are considered a nuisance. I shake my head thinking of oceanfront home owners who have complained that the dunes took away their ocean view. Someday, and it might have happened Oct. 28-29, the ocean will plow through the dune and save the lovely home. Would the dune be such an awful thing then?
Dunes should be nurtured, not demonized. Their growth should be cherished as a natural asset. There are certain champions who help bolster the dunes. They don’t think what they are doing is worthy of much acclaim, but planting dune grass to help spread the root systems on the dunes in a good way to help make that first line of defense ever better.
***
Gov. Chris Christie became a “name” in Cape May County. Sure, he made a staged appearance in Anglesea Firehouse warning us Garden State folks to scram while time allowed before Hurricane Sandy struck, but even more amazing, he changed Trick or Treat.
Now, let us be honest with each other, beats there a heart so dull in this fine county that it does not quicken at the thought of either giving candy to kiddies or getting candy on Halloween night.
Mayors and other elected hierarchy hold Trick or Treat Night in awe. Each group of solons must, in advance, huddle to issue an official decree about the date and time when Trick or Treat will be conducted within their municipal confines. I often wondered why, in a place as small as Cape May County, one size would not fit all, so to speak for Halloween’s celebration.
Being one of life’s greater mysteries, I never thought too hard, but the process was ongoing.
Well, BANG! The wrath of the Almighty blew the Garden State to smithereens, and, in some places, nearly to kingdom come, and all just in time to endanger Halloween.
Not wanting to endanger the tots who tap on doors dressed as Power Rangers or princesses, ghosts or space creatures, New Jersey’s chief exec took the bull by the horns and issued an edict: Halloween would be celebrated Nov. 5.
That singular act,”By virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and by the Statutes of this State, do hereby ORDER and DIRECT:
Celebrations of Halloween scheduled for October 31, 2012 in all parts of New Jersey shall be held on Monday, November 5, 2012”caused a flurry of e-mails and robo-calls to be placed by local governments.
Finally, one date for the annual solemnity was set…but, alas, no firm directive on Ah well, half a loaf’s better than none. OH well, I give the man credit, he did, statewide, what no one else had the moxie to do.
***
As some of the heaviest rain in recent memory deluged the county seat on Oct. 29, a press conference was convened on the second floor of the county library on Mechanic Street, Court House.
Two librarians, among other county employees deemed essential personnel by the powers on high, sat at the reference desk doing their best to stay occupied as rain dripped in waste baskets all around. So intense was the rainfall that plastic tarps were spread over bookcases to protect the non-fiction volumes from ruination by rain.
The library, like a gracious, aging dame, is falling apart, column by column. I’m sure it’s on the county’s “To Do” list, and look forward to the day when renovations will restore the proud edifice of Mechanic Street to her former grandeur.
***
For the next time this county prepares for a storm bearing down on it like a freight train, I share a reading that calmed me through Hurricane Irene and again as Sandy zeroed in on us. It’s Psalm 107, from verse 19 to the end. I can’t claim a miracle, but it had restorative power for me.