Watch out for the under toad!

Woof! What a storm we had the other night! As I sat at the desktop watching a documentary on the history of the internet and the influence technology has had on the world, the powers-that-be reminded us that something much more awesome is in control here. Far away thunder rumbled its warning signs when, suddenly, a torrential sideways rain swept through the neighborhood. I anxiously ran from window to window trying to see what was happening in the dark and waited for the storm to pass before drifting off to sleep, counting the seconds between thunder and lightening to figure how far it had traveled away…

The next day I headed to my go-to place so that I’d be close to home in case the roads were flooded and/or impassable. Aside from a tree branch hither and dither, the roads were clear, but this is what the riverside looked like:


At the Camden County Yacht Club, the buildings, boats and docks were submerged in water with geese and ducks swimming in the parking lot. Two weeks ago I was walking around the grounds taking pictures of the kids sailing camp. I don’t think there was any sailing lessons that day…

Down the road a piece, my dolphin friend looked like he was really swimming in the water…


…the bike trail was non-existent…


and the Veteran’s Park was flooded out…


It was a dreary day, but at least the heat had subsided, so I decided to ride a few loops around the river. With each round, the water slowly receded and I found myself determined to ride in circles until the sun came out. After 1 1/2 hours, the sun sheepishly peak-a-booed through a break in the clouds, then quickly hid its light. Telling the sun that it wasn’t enough, I continued on…but the sun refused…and I gave up…two hours is enough I’d say.

I thought about all the summer storms I’ve experienced in my lifetime – in childhood being chased from the public pool by the lifeguards when thunder boomed, getting stranded as a teen at various friends houses or waiting out the rain under an awning on Main Street and riding out the remnants of Hurricane Gloria in my parent’s stilt house along the Jersey shore during my college years, along with various other storms in my adult life – Irene, where we lost power for over a week, and Sandy, the worst and most devastating hurricane on record in New Jersey and one that affected a number of acquaintances, including a meteorologist friend who decided to stay in his home despite government warnings to leave the island. As the water crept up to his front door, he could hear the waves of the ocean and bay meeting as they crashed on the sides of the house. He told us how he had planned to climb into the attic and punch a hole through the roof…luckily, in the end, he and his home were left undamaged.

Water makes me panic…and I actually know why. Aside from my father freaking out every time the basement flooded when it rained, there is one occasion I have never forgotten in 46 years. In the summer of 1971, my family and I were on vacation at the Jersey shore. My sister and I were jumping the waves in the ocean when I suddenly felt a force tug at my feet as if some giant hands were wrapped around my ankles and pulling my body upside down. I felt my body flipping somersaults over and over again – forward and backward and forward again. Unable to breathe, I was terrified of the unknown battle I was fighting. Too frightened to shut my eyes, the salt water stung as if a hundred needles were piercing them and I cried. I remember thinking that this was what death felt like – that I would never be free of the force and never see my family again…when suddenly, the sea spat out my wilted body onto the beach. Sobbing, I ran to my parents to tell them what happened…and they didn’t believe me. Many years later I would learn that I had been caught in an undertow. Needless to say, I didn’t go into the ocean again until my daughter was 2 years old – 30 years later in the summer of 2001.

Thinking I had overcome my aquaphobia after all these years, the toilet poltergeist reassured me that the panic was still alive and well. If I could just get through a Sunday without checking and rechecking the downstairs toilet, there may be some hope…

and, by the way, I’m also afraid of closets, but that’s a story for another time…

“Blame, no one is to blame
As natural as the rain that falls
Here comes the Flood again

Wash away the weight that pulls you down
Ride the waves that free you from the dusk”

The Flood – Katie Melua

“I had run for 3 years, 2 months, 14 days, and 16 hours.” – Forrest Gump


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