The night before, I was told I would be doing my part of Newswatch 16 This Morning from Stroudsburg, the closest part of our area to the impact zone.
As I was getting dressed just after midnight, the wind was howling and the lights flickered. I thought "This is it." I was about to be plunged into darkness for days. It never happened. The lights stayed on.
I got to the office and met up with a photographer. We loaded up a van and headed southeast to Stroudsburg. As I always say in big storms, you know it's bad when the truckers pull off the road. Interstates 380 and 80 were lined with idle big rigs, with the drivers smartly avoiding the brutal winds.
Our van arrived to the higher elevation between Tobyhanna and Mount Pocono. A huge gust of wind hit us, and I swear we were going over the guide rail. Photographer Mark Monahan kept a firm grip on the wheel, and all was well.
We arrived at the Main St. Stroudsburg exit and made the loop on the ramp in to complete darkness. Every light in the borough was out. We parked on Main and set up for our live broadcasts. The only light came from our truck, our camera, and the giant flashlight I brought along.
By the way, all the experts say there are bands of wind in a hurricane, and I felt it in Stroudsburg that morning. There would be bursts of intense wind, followed by calm. The cycle was repeated dozens of times.
After the newscast ended, Mark and I walked around town, looking at the storm's impact. Trees and branches down. Closed stores. An idle cab driver because roads were closed. A deli struggled to keep its product cool without refrigeration. People stuck in a hotel. There were plenty of stories to tell. We wrapped it up into one big ball and told it at noon. Our day was done. When I arrived home, I hit a commercial strip a couple of miles away from me with no electricity. The house never lost its juice. Lucky.
The next morning's broadcast was spent at an emergency shelter at East Stroudsburg University. Remember, it was almost November. It was getting cold. No lights is one story. No heat and no hot water is a totally different animal. Shelter space was valuable, even if it was a night in a gym with a rapidly overwhelmed bathroom.
One moment sticks out. A woman walked out of the shelter crying loudly. She walked over toward our truck. I asked what happened. She was just told that it would be at least two weeks before her electricity would be back. Ouch!
Lessons learned? The electric grid is a fragile thing. Some utilities were caught with their pants down-- under manned and under equipped. I love trees, but we have to keep them away from power lines, impossible as that sounds. You would think that locations a long distance from the coast are hurricane safe. Guess again!
I would like to think the northeast came out of Sandy smarter and better prepared for future storms. I pray we are never put to the test again.
