We took a trip down to Paradise Avenue in Piermont this afternoon. It's mostly small, old charming houses that were originally built for workers I think, from the railroad, and later the paper mill that once dominated the town. (Rumor is, at one point many years ago, it was also a red light district). Many have been lovingly restored and are beautiful little jewels of a certain period of 'Hudson River' architecture- sort of gothic late victorians. The street is basically just above sea level along a marsh on the Hudson. The street was already flooding a little, from the tide. We were helping friends and people we didn't know who live on the street put their kitchen appliances and furniture on sawhorses. A local plumber essentially donated his time, he helped disconnect gas lines and move the appliances and only charged 50 bucks a house, working pretty much all day. Most of these houses have basements that are nothing more than gravel floored pass-throughs for the water- everything essential, from AC power/breaker panels to hot water heaters, are installed on the first floor of these houses because of water.
As mentioned, we are on the river too, but much higher, on the mountain side well above the river line; these folks basically live through storm after storm on the river, and get hammered every time. A guy down the road who is on the river just finished replacing and repairing all the damage from the last big hurricane, a year ago, from floor joists and planking to his entire kitchen, on the first floor of his beautiful old restored carriage house -it sits about 5 feet above, and 5 feet back, from the river itself. I went to visit him this morning on my walk. He was still in his bathrobe, sitting in the living room facing the river, watching the waves and the weather channel and just seemed resigned to the fact that he's gonna get wiped out again. It's just awful, and you ask: how can these folks build, and rebuild again, and again, and again, facing the same hazard. I don't know.
