And I am a part of the most amazing village! 

As many of you know our town was hit hard by Sandy and then again by the Nor'easter that followed less than 10 days later. There's been such tremendous media coverage of the New York and New Jersey areas that had seen such devastation, but it seems that my small part of the state has pretty much gone under the radar. Perhaps it's because we're seen as a wealthy community. That really shouldn't matter. Loss is loss no matter what your financial status happens to be. And while we do have a good deal of wealth in our town, we are also to a lot of working class families, and a lot of elderly families. We're a town of total and complete diversity in terms of money, religion, finance and age, and it's one of the reasons I love it so much. I've always loved Fairfield for many reasons but I've never felt so devoted to my town and my community until yesterday.

Last week, a group of three women whom I have never met, all lifelong Fairfield residents, decided to organize a small beach clean-up to help with the homes hit worse by the storm. A Facebook page was create and suddenly word spread like wildfire. What started out as an attempt to gather 50 - 100 people together to clean up the beach area soon grew to something that can only be described as epic and awesome. Within days people such as myself were signing up to help. I didn't know Katie or her two friends involved but I knew I had to do something to help my own community. Without a moments' hesitation I signed myself up... as well as my three kids. I had no idea what I was getting into until I pulled into the parking lot of one of our towns' beaches and was astounded by the sheer number of cars and people all wearing orange shirts. People of all ages, sizes and shapes were here on a Sunday morning to support and help in any way they could. 

It was a glorious and magnificent day. The sun was out and her brilliance illuminated everything beneath her. It felt more like a Spring day, or perhaps one in early September. It was the type of day you expected to see people at the beach, but armed with towels and sunscreen, coolers, picnic baskets and books. Not wearing work boots, carrying shovels, rakes, leaf bags and garbage bags. It was so warm I took off my down vest and fleece jacket. All I needed was the large orange shirt that was handed out to me at one of the tents when I checked in. That, and my sunglasses!

My kids and I were armed with our own rakes, masks and gloves. We were given a destination on Fox Street. We were group 16 and I was to be the group leader. But really, everyone was a leader. After several more joined our group we headed toward our destination near another one of the town's beaches. These streets had been under several feet of water and saw total and complete devastation. While, of course, my heart goes out to the people and my friends in Long Island, New York City, Staten Island and New Jersey, I felt that no attention was given to us and we needed help. There was a mess and devastation in my own backyard. 

Soon we'd all be doing whatever we could to help out and make a difference.

I thought I'd be doing some raking or shoveling sand. I certainly had no idea that I would be going into people's homes and removing all their personal possessions that had accumulated in the past 30 - 40 years and tossing them to the curb. 

We all use our basements as storage and living spaces. I think of all the things I have in my own basement - the clothes and well loved stuffed animals and dolls and toys that my children have since outgrown. I have extra sets of dishes, clothes from different seasons, gift wrap, craft supplies, our entire Christmas decor collection... there's a fridge and a freezer, spare furniture waiting, perhaps, for the children to move into their own homes when they grow and leave the nest. I know the sentiment attached to each item in my own basement.

We appeared at the scene of the home of Mrs. Bolger and the first thing I happened upon was a pile, thigh high, of what seemed like hundreds and hundreds of wet, waterlogged and mildewy books that had been pulled from a basement that had seen several feet of water. I was taken by the sight of these books - there's a personal history here. There were books of fiction and literature, on religion... There were old school text books, and cookbooks. There were books that took me to a different place and time - That took me to my youth and childhood. I knew nothing of Mrs. Bolger but I was certain she had children roughly my age. We leafed through some of the books as we tossed them into industrial sized garbage bags. And when the books had all been bagged and placed curb-side, we moved on to other items. We did whatever we could do and whatever was asked of us.

In the basement a crew of volunteers were busily tearing up the floors and walls... down and out went the drywall and the insulation that was heavy, dripping, dank with dirty seawater. Those us who weren't chipping away at the walls were bringing what we could out to the curb.

It didn't take long for these piles to grow and take on a life of their own. A lifetime of memories along with the walls of a home being ripped out... it seemed so senseless and cruel. How could Mother Nature be so heartless? I wondered this several times yesterday. Below you see piles of "junk" most of which is no longer identifiable. In these piles were people's lives and livelihoods. I was struck by the individual pieces I carried out from the still waterlogged basement across the street. Sheets, clothes, a priceless doll collection, LLBean boots and sneakers. There were collectibles, and work tools. Canned goods and dry goods. None of it salvageable. None of it. As we carried heavy wet material from the basement to the ever-growing mounds at the end of the driveway we were certain that we were almost done. Furniture, drenched and moldy and to quite literally hacked apart to to be removed. A baby's Moses basket... 

I think of the saying "one person's trash is another person's treasure" in a whole new light. In fact, I think it's quite the reverse. One person's trash was once his treasure. I know first-hand how hard it is to part with the loss of items we love.

Below our team worked hard at tearing out all the walls down to the studs. The waters were so high that in many parts of this basement the insulation was so wet and heavy it was nearly impossible to lift. 

Before I even signed up to participate I told my three children that they would be cleaning up the beach area with me on Sunday. As you can imagine, this was not really well received. How could I get them to clean up a downtown, when they can't even pick up their rooms! I did not give them an opportunity to say no. This was not a question. This was not a choice. This was a demand. And as they whined in the back of the car I took them down by the beach area so that they could see the sheer devastation in person. I've never seen my  kids stop complaining and get so quiet so quickly. From the back of my car were gasps and sighs.With such little media coverage my children had no idea how bad things were in their own backyard. Suddenly they too were eager to help and make a small difference. They were eager now, not because they had to. Not because they were going to get credit or points or graded but because they genuinely wanted to! And did they ever make me proud!

Remembrances of Christmases past...

Even Alexander, my littlest one, who was perhaps the most eager of my three, made me so incredibly proud. He tirelessly helped carry whatever he could. He never complained. About anything.  He endlessly chatted everyone's ears off (and for that I apologize!) As little as he is, he understood the gravity of the situation at hand, was eager to help appreciated the teams of people banding together and bonding as we did.

And there was an incredible sense of bonding. I listened to the stories about Mrs. Bolger and her home as told to me by one of her daughter. She was described as an Innkeeper with a revolving front door. The home was rarely empty of guests, friends and family. Stories were told as we stood talking on the front lawn, taking a much needed lunch break, enjoying all sorts of wonderful food donated by so very many wonderful restaurants from our town. I felt a connection then, a kinship if you will, with the other wonderful men and women who had volunteered, as well as with Mrs. Bolger, her two daughters and niece. 

It's human nature to want to help others in need and less fortunate than we are, is it not?

And certainly I never offered to clean up the beach area to get something out of it. After all, I have my entire back yard (oh Gosh, don't remind me!) with downed branches and limbs and more leaves than I care to think about. Maybe my volunteering was a means of procrastination! I never anticipated getting anything from the day but perhaps some calloused hands. Instead, what I got was a sense of accomplishment and pride that I've never felt before. These amazing and wonderful people of my community are proof of just how spectacular the human race can be. I am amazed at the selflessness and generosity of my peers - of everyone in my town. The three high school girls with whom I worked on the house across the street, worked tirelessly all day - not because they had to, because they wanted to. I think our town's younger generation has made us all proud. There was an energy and a spirit, that day, that I haven't seen in a long-time. Maybe ever!

I participated in the Fairfield Beach Cleanup because I wanted to help make a difference. I never imagined just how much of a difference I really would make. I did what I could. Some people did more, others did less. We all gave 100% of our abilities and together we quite literally moved mountains. One person could not have handled the sheer amount that needed to be done, but one person, when working together with a team of a thousand can make the biggest difference. I left Fox Street yesterday with a feeling I had never felt before. I felt satisfied, complete, proud - incredibly proud, grateful, appreciative and appreciated. As I sit back and let the events of the day replay over and over in my mind, I cannot help but smile. 

THIS is what it's all about. THIS is a town working together. THIS is my town! THIS is my home!

And now I have to ask, what about a reunion? Same time, same place next year? But instead of work gloves, shovels, rakes, garbage bags and masks, we have champagne?!!

XOXO,

Fairfield Beach Cleanup, via The Connecticut Post