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Page 3


I listen to the radio on reduced volume at my bed side. It is just audible to me. The hurricane report breaks in on the all night music: "  … off the lower New Jersey coast. It is thought the center will pass New York about 9 am."

I get up, again. There are still lights on in many shore-front houses. I am not the only one awake. It is now 3 am.

At 5 am, another item. "The hurricane may go out to sea. It is thought it will not hit New York City ….

The dawn is leaden with drenching rain and gusts of wind.

We eat a gloomy breakfast.

The ladder leading down to the beach has disappeared. The steel chain used to fasten it to the sea wall is not visible either.

The water has not receded from the base of the sea wall. The spray breaking on the wall and the heavier beat of the water against it cause an aggravated shake and shiver of the house.

The wind begins to blow the rain furiously. The shore front is deserted—nothing living in the downpour. Looking through the window, I do see something. It is a black scotty pup, wind-driven and rain-pelted, confused and disoriented. I recognize him as a neighbor's pet. I telephone her and she sends someone to his rescue.

The local radio, again: "All Milford shore-front homes will have to be evacuated. High tide will be at 1 pm. It is expected the storm will be at its worse then.




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