Published: October 12, 2007 06:17 pm            

KISSEL: Blindsided but managing

What the heck were they doing?

The streets were deserted, ruled by a massive layer of suddenly slush. Inside, the homes were dark and getting colder. The trees heavy with snow. And all those leaves!

Despite being somewhat of a cave dweller, cabin fever had already set in after just a few hours. Outside, the scenery was fantastic (if you could get your head around it.)

‘Cause even at that early stage as Thursday became Friday (the 13th!), it was pretty clear that something wicked had this way come.

Then the noises started ... Pop! Pop! Dead silence. Not an emergency vehicle, nothing. Pop!

It seemed to be coming from deep inside the woods.

Impaired by the alien surroundings, I actually mistook those noises as possible gunfire.

Strange time to be hunting or going on a shooting spree, I thought. Maybe I just didn’t want to believe what was really happening.

But then as those pops grew louder, closer and more frequent, I started to shake my head as reality set in.

Naturally, I took pictures. (At this time, I could only find a photo illustration that I’m assuming represents how the storm made me felt.)

Fractured? Disconnected? Blindsided? (That burst of light is one of the cars that ventured down our very long street with no outlets.)

Before the storm hit, I was just about to begin rehearsing on my arsenal of synthesizers for my live “electronic cabaret” when the lights went out across Western New York.

(There’s nothing quite so depressing as the sight of a $2,000 synthesizer in flashlight and no juice to power it up ...)

But bigger problems were in store ...

As horrible as the growing realization that many trees were being damaged whilst I listen, inside the real trouble was percolating.

Getting to sleep in the cold moist air wasn’t so bad — my sinuses!!! — but waking up to find the basement flooded was a biggie.

A quick inspection of the surprisingly warm two-inch-deep water revealed nothing nasty. The water seemed quite fresh actually.

And luckily, most of the items in the large basement were raised on wooden pallets.

But sloppily, some things weren’t. Like the beloved cardboard box for said 2K synth. (Craigslist is always but a click away.)

Oh well, time to clean up. And count my blessings.

And in my opinion, the storm really was one on my household as it forced the removal of a lot of memorabilia and nostalgia items and junk that unfortunately were only headed to the curb sooner or later.

“Maniac” became my theme song as the entire basement was cleaned up and in the process of drying (I kept those fans on for weeks) by Sunday night.

Or Monday?

It’s impossible to say. That time was fairly hazy and bizzare, IMO.

In between, I was quite relieved to know Grand Island had been spared from the worst of it.

Early into the storm I had called Michele DeLuca and she said things were manageable.

Thank heavens! Elsewhere, things were not so manageable, and I was glad to know my superhuman talents were not needed on the Island.

Meanwhile, at home, those with problems did our best to make this event something that makes us stronger.

But are we really ready for the next time?

That could be something to consider this weekend.

E-mail comments to joekissel@roadrunner.com.

        

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