It seemed like fall never came this year; first we were in darkness and
then it was Thanksgiving. Anyone who lives along the east coast from southern
NJ through central Long Island shared this common experience. And here we are,
still sweeping up, mopping out, piling the debris at the curb and wondering:
will it ever be the same?
I should be writing about decorating or “design”, I know. But that seems
a little frivolous in the wake (excuse the pun) of our recent losses when so
many people are still wondering when the heat will be back on, or when they can
go….Home. On a quick pass through coastal towns, one sees the surviving shells
of houses from which the interiors have been stripped clean; many have been
lifted onto platforms as contractors infill below to the “new elevation” for
the adjusted flood plain. As we watched our life savings float away, we wonder-
what will it take to rebuild? And when we do, will it wash away again? How do
we protect ourselves?
We’ve become frightfully atuned to insurance adjusters, mold
remediators, loan officers and FEMA. Bridges closed, reopened; grassroots
organizations have brought neighbors together in an effort to bring awareness
and assistance to those devastated by this incredible storm. We wear “Restore
the Shore” sweatshirts and “I Survived Sandy” stickers on our cars. And still,
so much remains to be done.
I was in a house this week that has been stripped down to its bones- 4’
of sheetrock remain, but all else has been removed, including the creaky
subfloor. A faint whiff of mildew in the air left one wondering if that was
enough- how dry does it have to be? I’ve been in many other homes like this
since Sandy, as people are looking for advice on what to save, what to change,
how to come full circle from this experience. Some are taking this as an
opportunity to think about what else is possible, others are just looking to
have their lives return to normal. All are reeling at the costs involved, the
complexity of solving the problem and the length of time it takes just to find
answers. And then there are those who have no resources, for whom their home
was their only investment and in one sweep of a wave, it’s gone.
As in all disasters, the immediate aftermath brought a flurry of
attention to the needs of our shorefront communities. But when the cameras
left, what happened to those who are still waiting for help? Where did the
money go, and when will the help come?
And in the midst of this, I wonder how I can help? Besides the
occasional volunteer day or tray of ziti, what real impact can I have? What’s
the new role of “interior design” in my community? Because if the economic
downturn of the last five years revised how I think of my work, Sandy put the
cherry on top. It will never be the same, nor will I. I’m certain of that.
For years my focus was on the “luxury” market- clients who wanted the
latest, greatest toy- all the accoutrements of the upward climb. There seemed
no end to the increase in value of homes and no reason to rein in the spending.
Clearly, all that had changed before the storm- but this has made it even more
imperative that our design dollars are spent wisely, with care and forethought.
And that- only after we’ve rebuilt a solid foundation.
So, my message of the moment is stolen from pre-blitz London: Keep Calm
and Carry On. We’re tough here in New Jersey; we’re the birthplace of The
Sopranos and Jersey Shore. We’ve got chutzpah galore and we’ll be back next
summer on the boardwalks from Keansburg to Cape May, singing Springsteen and
eating Italian hot dogs as the warm beach days slide Sandy into… just… a memory.
In the meantime? We’ve got some work to do.
