...it was times such as during the past fortnight when I felt like the men on the American nuclear submarine USS Scorpion in Nevil Shute's (purely coincidentally) post-apocalyptic novel "On the Beach," cut off from the rest of the world (as they knew it) and not even sure what's left out there.
And like Stanley Kramer's grim 1959 film version with Gregory Peck and Ava Gardner, when I looked out the window during the first few days of "Superstorm" (thank you, Andy Cuomo!) Sandy, it almost felt like a black and white world.
If there was a single amusing element of those first two-to-three days, it was that the ol' family homestead was one of the most popular photography destinations on the East End.
The view of the front yard was stunning!
But visitors should have seen it from the front porch 10 minutes after it happened...
The white vehicle is that of an evacuee, the dark blue Ford Escape is mine, and the metallic gold one "nestled" in the middle is Jeanne's pancaked Honda.
Following the extrication of my Ford by my brother-in-law with his chainsaw, and the white sedan by Fred Bauer and his cat, Jeanne's crushed Honda awaits the trailer.
At the (Acer saccharinum) root of the problem.
[sniffle]. That's my squashed Honda....
Not an hour before that tree fell on our cars, Jeanne was helping me and my doggie and our supplies out of the car and safely into the house. She said we must not go back outside, and she was right. The tree could have fallen on us. Thankfully we are all in one piece. And my car, so I'm told, will be fixed. The question is when? I'm tired of shank's mare.