Oh I remember that. I was long-term subbing and coaching at a school in Atlantic Highlands and we sent a team of volunteers into Highlands. It took at least a week for them to even allow us and we were teamed with a church group. I did several runs of food and supplies into the “restricted zone” (we called it) before a lady confronted me outside of her house which was turned into rubble thanking us but saying they needed pet food. So the next run we made, we brought a van of pet food, litter, etc, to a block right near the Claddagh.
This was before smartphones so I have no pictures, but it was a war zone. National Guardsman carrying machine guns. Police and FEMA everywhere (oh the stories about them I could tell…). If you took black and white photos of the destruction, you could pass them off as shots from World War II. I broke down and cried on the way back up. Some guy was begging us for gloves so he could start ripping apart what was left of his house, so I gave him my pair out of my back pocket and he was so incredibly grateful and almost cried himself.
The friend who I mentioned lives nearby had his house wrecked. But on a lighter note, he said after the storm, he went outside to discover a cooler packed with beer and ice had floated into his backyard. As he told me, “We had no power and my house was gone, but we had cold beer!”
