Cranford Residents Recount Frantic Date With Irene

"Well, that's the first time we've seen them in three days," Joan Scarmuzzi said, as she and her neighbors followed the caravan of police vehicles down Riverside Drive, along the all-too-slowly receding banks of the Rahway River.

Cranford Mayor Daniel Aschenbach, U.S. Sen. Frank Lautenberg, state Rep. Leonard Lance, state Sen. Tom Kean Jr. and other local officials got out of the trucks to look pensively at the muddy waters and compromised banks. But the men, women and children stayed by the SUVs. They knew what it looks like in their basements, living rooms and kitchens.

The residents, weary to the bone from wringing out every ounce of water from their possessions, tried to collect their thoughts as they waited to recount what life has been like for them since the winds and waters spun by Hurricane Irene ruined the end of the summer and, likely the start of fall.

Prior to touring the devastation in the township's flood zone, Aschenbach and Union County Freeholder Bette Jane Kowalski sought help from Lance to get temporary FEMA trailers to house emergency generators since the majority of the township remains without power. Lance said he is waiting for a response from FEMA.

Aschenbach spoke briefly to state and federal officials prior to touring the affected areas, mentioning the ongoing issue of trying to reinforce the dikes in the township. "We can handle storms of a minor nature," he said, adding that the issue would have been a priority had Irene not created the destruction it did.

But Irene's aftermath made it more important than ever for Claremont residents and their neighbors to make sure that Lautenberg, Lance Kean and the rest of the officials heard their stories.

"How are you doin'," Lautenberg asked Scamuzzi.

"I am third-generation Cranford," she said. "And right now, we feel a little abandoned. This is the worst storm I've seen in 23 years on Claremont. Before, people would come around after a storm, look at the damage and say, 'Cranford doesn't need help right now' and they'd walk out the door again. That had better not happen this time."

"We heard the rush of water break the glass in the windows on the lower level," Potash said. "Then we heard the force of the water knock over the the desk."

Potash, her husband, David, and their three children — ages 12, 10 and 6 — rode out the storm. "David wasn't leaving," Potash said, "and there was no way we were going to leave him." She said there came a point in the storm that they feared they'd made a mistake.

"This storm gave us a lot of time to prepare and we did a lot to handle the situation," she said, "but there was a point when the water kept rising and we thought, "Oh my God, we're going to be on the roofs like the Katrina people."

The residents said they were amazed by the things they witnessed the things they encountered. "We saw deer swimming down the river," Scamuzzi said, "and families of raccoons trying to swim. We were getting hit by stuff flying by in the water, not just dealing with the rush of the water. It was unbelievable."

Aschenbach listened intently, but tried to manage residents' frustration and expectations."We know there is a problem," he said, "and we know how hard this is for you all. I promise that we will do our best to make sure this doesn't happen again."

Residents pledged with a weary but unwavering resolve to rebuild and recover. "I know that it's my choice to live here," Scamuzzi said, "but I am frustrated. I believe that if they can dredge the river and build up the banks of the river, it will help. I have lived through three of these and all of us have seen what happens when it's time to fix it. There is a lot of red tape, nothing gets done right away and then a year goes by, and it will be dropped again."

Cheryl Malcolm had just started a week of vacation from her job as a nurse's aide. She'd just taken her daughter oldest daughter, Caitlin, back to Oswego State in upstate New York for the new school year.

"We drove six hours up and back in those terrible storms," she said. "I had my son, Sean, and my other daughter Kelly. It was 10 o'clock at night. I don't have a smartphone, so we just moved as much of our stuff as we could to the top of the house and left for somewhere dry. We couldn't get to Springfield Avenue or North Avenue, so we spent the night in the parking lot of the Orange Avenue School.

"Sean is 19 and is learning disabled. Kelly is 16 and was diagnosed with autism. They were screaming and terrified. They kept saying, 'We're going to die," Malcolm said. 

"Please just buy our houses," said Richmond Avenue resident Miriam Ravello to the assembled political leaders. "We will never be able to sell them. We need help."

"Speaking of that," Potash said, "we've all been looking around for the American Red Cross. Nobody here has seen or heard from them at all." Red Cross officials didn't return phone calls left at their office.

"We also want everyone to know we love our police officers," she added. "We can only imagine how hard this has to be on the department, with everything from water rescues to keeping an eye on everything else, but it seems like they're overwhelmed."

Malcolm reiterated her love for the Cranford community but was concerned about her family's future. "I am not sure how much longer we can spend in the house," Malcolm said. "Every bit of food we had is rotting and everything else smells like mold. I love it here, even after my husband left, because everyone has been so kind and supportive to us. We can't leave. Sean has two more years of high school and Kelly just made the color guard. I've spent every last dime I have on Caitlin's college and don't know how I can pay to rebuild.

"We don't want handouts," Malcolm said. "We just want options."