As I sat at home Tuesday morning with electricity and a dry basement, I was happy that Hurricane Sandy had left me largely untouched by its visit – except for piles of leaves and thin tree branches on my street, sidewalk and driveway.
Millions of people were affected, though, and my thoughts go out to them, especially to the families of those did not survive the hurricane’s wrath. I watched the newscasts on TV all day Monday, not knowing what to expect as Sandy churned its way up the Atlantic and took a crazy left turn into New Jersey and then through my state of Pennsylvania. The not-knowing what to expect was the most difficult part of its trek.
When I lived in Tampa, FL, for five years, I expected to be threatened with hurricanes, but fortunately, I was never touched by one. But now I’m in Pennsylvania and I’ve been accosted by two hurricanes in the last two years. I don’t live on the Jersey coast, so why am I feeling the anger of Sandy so far inland? Is this an effect of global warming and the havoc we’re wreaking on our environment and earth’s climate?
I tried preparing for the storm: Twice Monday, I went outside to hand-rake leaves from around my drain to keep it from clogging under the deluge of rainwater expected to pour from the sky. The downpour ended up being both moderate and even-handed – there was more wind than rain – so my basement is completely dry.
I had already moved stuff in the basement to a higher level – my basement floor is on an incline – and placed other items on tabletops and shelves. I had bought three daisy mums for a very good price over the weekend and placed them on my porch to save their blooms. I had even removed any sharp objects in my yard that could come crashing through a window. Since my front porch is glass-enclosed, I’m always worried that a branch from the Japanese maple in my front yard will come crashing through it.
I also pulled together items for a potential blackout when I realized that, except for the dollar-store flashlights and batteries, most of them were things I’d picked up at auction.
Like the Juliette electric/battery portable radio that I tuned to the local all-news station. It’s a black radio with a leather strap that I’ve had for a long time and likely got in a box lot at auction. Luckily, I decided to keep it; it came in handy the one time my lights went out more than a year ago.
The radio is Model FPR-1293, AM/FM-AFC. It operates on a 9-volt battery and has a power cord, along with a compartment inside the back for storing the cord. Curious about its maker, I googled but couldn’t find one exactly like it. I did find others with a similar model number that were said to be from the 1960s or 1970s. Juliette radios and other consumer electronics were apparently imported by Topp Import & Export of Miami from such countries as Japan, Korea and Hong Kong, according to the radiomuseum.org website.
I don’t believe the Juliette brand was the most optimal radio, but it worked for my purposes, although I had to turn the dial a few times to get a clear reception.
The next items were two beautiful cobalt blue and clear candlestick holders shaped like a mound. There’s no marking, but I did find the clear one on the Blenko Glass Co. website, and it was listed as a Hurricane Candle Holder #990-1A. I found cobalt blue candle-holders (and several red and green ones) with a Blenko label on the web and on eBay. They were said to be from the 1950s or 1960s. They, too, came in handy when my lights went out more than a year ago.
I got a dozen white candles in a box lot at auction, have used a few and still have several left.
All together, my little emergency kit of radio, candlestick holders and candles probably cost me about 10 bucks or less, but their value in the face of a hurricane like Sandy was worth much much more.
