Superstorm Sandy is heavy on the shoulders, and on theheart.

Soaked carpet and padding weighs quite a bit, especially afterthe twelfth trip to “the pile.” So do wet magazines. Water-loggedmattresses weigh much more, as do couches, refrigerators,furniture, boats, floating docks and pieces of lumber.

And my family hadn't yet started to tear up the floor and cutaway wet sections of sheetrock when we traveled last Saturdayto Brick, NJ to work and take a look at the damage to our summergetaway—which also serves as the home of my grandmother.

(We cut the sheetrock Nov. 11. Scroll down and click tothe next page to see the pictures)

The house is across the Barnegat Bay from some areas Sandyslammed hardest: Brick's beachside, the famous Seaside Heightsboardwalk, Belmar, Point Pleasant, and countless little beachcommunities. Have you seen the picture or video of the MantolokingBridge that now goes nowhere (and which looks to be damaged as wellafter just being built to replace a lower, older bridge) becausethe Atlantic Ocean made a new inlet? We're across the bay fromthat, more or less.

(We're the “A.” The ocean is tothe east, and the now-famous Mantoloking Bridge to thenorth)

Up north in Morris County, NJ we've been dealing with poweroutages, if you're lucky. I was dealing with no power until lateNov. 7.

A lack of luck means what you're dealing with is an oak tree inyour bedroom or across the roof of your car. I was stunned by theamount of fallen large trees in my hometown of Roselle Park, wheremy brother and I met up with family before heading south. The townprobably lost hundreds of trees—the ones it is known for—the onesafter which streets have been named. It wasn't uncommon to see fourmammoth trees over within one block, each toppled in the samedirection. And in a town like Roselle Park, when a treefalls, it lands on something.

Down south you're counting your blessings if you only got 10 inches of waterin the house, like our family did. And you are thanking yourneighbor for storing his boat on a trailer rather than on cinderblocks. Because it doesn't take a detective to quickly concludethat boats on cinder blocks floated away into a house across thestreet—or wherever the tide took it—if you can find it. Trailersmust have been good anchors. Boats on them stayed put. Let'sremember this for next time.

Before cutting wet carpet smelling like a marsh into manageablepieces, my family surveyed the house and property. We appear tohave a new paddle boat. It found its way onto our deck. Thefloating dock that holds our Sea-Doo's in place on the water is inour neighbor's yard. Thankfully, the Sea-Doo's were put on atrailer before the storm.

A table from a house across the waterway was also in ourneighbor's yard, standing upright, with a sheet of plywood stilllaying across its top, like it had been picked up and set backdown.

We accomplished our carpet-removal goal rather quickly—ourclothes soaked with the bay's water. The rest of the work can wait,we decide. Then we went to talk to the neighbors. Many stayed forthe storm and each might have bragged about it had the ocean notbroken through at the Montoloking Bridge. But because it did, thebay filled up and houses got water inside.

(Our pile…Part I)

Each one of their cars was totaled. A brand new Volkswagon satstranded in one driveway. Still with a temporary license plate, theinside of its windows dripped with condensation. But most said theyhave comprehensive auto insurance. It's covered. I think: “Wow…howmany total losses are there going to be from this storm?”

We helped neighbors move refrigerators and other things intoDumpsters, some already provided by insurance. We gave the guyacross the street a hand moving a safe so he could get startedpulling up his newly-installed wood floor. He had alreadyhired an independent adjuster.

The women across the street had no flood insurance. I wonderedto myself: “How could this be? Your house is 15 feet from water.”Nevertheless, they, as well as most people, were surprisinglyupbeat. I took a lot of insurance questions once they realized Imight know some answers, especially about hurricanedeductibles.

“Just take pictures of everything,” I say, adding a few bitsabout watching for fraud. I was in charge of pictures of ourhome and took them as much to document family history than forinsurance purposes.

Our next door neighbor pulled up while we were getting ready toleave. We left him alone as he went inside to see the work ahead ofhim. “I don't even know where to start,” he came outsaying.

As we rolled out of the development in the pick-up we sawsome residents already had huge piles of constructiondebris on the side of the road—wet insulation and wall studs andfloor boards. Almost each had a stack of random lumber,about the width and length of a dock, or of a boardwalk from acrossthe bay. The sound of rumbling generators replaced bubbling, idlingmotor boats.

The streets were lined with piles—small rivers of drained floodwater flowing from each of them into the street. A couple spenttime trying to separate wet family photos. You see people making atrip with a couch or a warped coffee table and they pause fora couple of seconds, looking at the pile. I did the sameseveral times while creating our own pile. These were ourpossessions. The things in our homes. Little pieces of value, withnot as much value as some of the items being tossed by others lessfortunate, and certainly not as valuable as a life. But littlepieces of the movie-frame memories we have in our heads.

A sign in front of one house reads, “You loot, Ishoot.” Police were regularly patrolling and we heard some peoplehad identification checked on the way into the marina.

Damages got worse as we neared homes closer to the bay—the onesthat took the brunt of the surge when the ocean broke in. Debrispunctured holes in walls. Windows were blown out. People on thesestreets looked much more sullen and sad and frustrated. Thefuture of some of these homes involves a bulldozer.

But most were intact. That is to say, most were on theirfoundations and could be repaired. Across the bay, the same cannotbe said. There are homes on the other side of the MantolokingBridge that aren't there anymore. And the land no longerexists to rebuild them.

This area down here—it isn't just bungalows and boats andrestaurants and salt water and sun tan lotion. The Jersey Shore isa place where nearly every person you know has a good memory—has alot of good memories—and you look at them funny if they don't. Ilived in Roselle Park but grew up during my summers on Long BeachIsland. We've all rented houses, and rode the Octopus with dad, andlearned to surf, and enjoyed Kohr's ice cream or Sawmillpizza, and got the worst sunburn ever, and had summerromances, and came here after prom, and have taken the bestnaps or built the most impressive sandcastle on theJersey Shore. Mothers and fathers take their kids to the oceanbecause they went to the ocean with their mothers and fathers.

And then you realize next summer isn't going to look the way thepictures in our minds say it should look. Things could, for themost part—by some miracle, be the same. But they'll be different.At least for a while.

The shore is still going to be the shore. Maybe come MemorialDay it'll call us a little louder and we'll rally, and we'llrespect it a little more.

Pile Part Deux

Another look at Pile 2,with new and improved Pile 1 in the background. Word istrucks will be by soon to pick this up.

I took many pictures like this.I'll spare you them all. But the next two give you a good idea ofwhat a foot of water in your house makes you do. I can'timagine some other harder-hit places. We thought we'd get away withcutting 2 feet of sheetrock. But the water was absorbed higherthan that–so we went up to 4 feet.

Someone else's mess. Theydo say the Christmas season starts earlier every year.

Insulation could be the worstpart of clean-up…from the juxtaposition of the bright pink to theway the a giant pile of the soggy stuff just looks depressing.Plus, you feel it in your throat the day after. Trust me.

Sunrise in Brick, NJ. Nov. 11,2012.