After the storm

I had always wanted an indoor pool, but this blew my mind.

When Hurricane Irene tore through the Hudson Valley en route to decimating New England last summer, she left behind 6 feet of filthy water in my basement. It happened so fast, so unexpectedly, that the partial dirt-floor crawl space was transformed into a whirling stew of personal belongings and toxic sludge in less than an hour.

It was only with the help of FEMA’s new high-tech approach to disaster relief — and our (heel-dragging) homeowner’s insurance — that we’ve recovered. In terms of home repairs, I’m out of pocket only about $1,000 after getting money from FEMA and my insurance company.

Helayne Seidman

Thanks to FEMA and insurance, things are getting closer to normal for Don Kaplan and his Rockland County home.

Helayne Seidman

HARD RAIN: Don Kaplan has drained his basement, which was destroyed when Hurricane Irene hit in August.

Kaplan's flooded basement.

Still, even with assistance, it wasn’t easy.

Recovering from a disaster of any magnitude is a full-time job. It’s also frustrating and frequently overwhelming.

In our case, we were forced to flee our 83-year-old Cape Cod-style lake house in Rockland County for almost three weeks, after we learned from an air-testing company I hired that the basement was a dangerous brew of loose asbestos and rapidly growing mold.

We also had broken pipes, a waterlogged boiler, a fried hot-water heater and a submerged electrical box that would have set our home ablaze with just one spark.

Good thing the power went out.

The nightmare began around 5:30 a.m. on Aug. 28. Our screaming burglar alarm woke me up; confusing, since the alarm had been disconnected for years. Apparently, it had a backup battery that had short-circuited.

I peeked out the living-room window and was shocked to see a jet of water shooting out between the doors of our cellar. There was so much force behind the water, it resembled a garden hose with someone’s thumb over the nozzle.

When the rain finally stopped, I went outside and opened the doors. Instead of a flight of stairs leading down into the basement, I was looking at the surface of a cloudy pool.

I put on a pair of fly-fishing waders and boots, grabbed a 100-foot long extension cord, strapped a small flashlight to my head and went looking for the sump pump, grateful that we had rented an emergency generator the day before the storm hit. I never dreamed it would be needed for this.

I had to push past familiar items as they floated by, bloated with water. I saw my daughter’s waterlogged baby clothes, parts of my beloved book collection, pillows, blankets, an upended kitchen table, DVDs, home movies, pictures — all swirling around like vegetables in a bowl of soup. (Our damaged personal property, which wasn’t covered by FEMA or insurance, was estimated at $50,000 by an independent adjuster.)