Writer Harriet Bernstein volunteered in Lexington, New York in the days after Hurricane Irene wiped out bridges, roads and power throughout the Greene County town. She has sent us this report of the scene at the Lexington Mission, a church which fed and comforted most of the village for weeks after the disaster. Bernstein wrote this account on September 2. To see Bernstein's photos with her captions, click the Flickr slideshow above. -- Julia Reischel
Hurricane Irene didn’t spare Lexington, NY, from damage. It did, however, remind residents of how lucky they are to live in this small town. Nestled on the “mountaintop” along with several other little towns in the Catskills, Lexington boasts trout streams, hunting grounds, expansive mountain vistas and a population under 1000. Summer residents mix with locals, many of who moved here from urban areas to raise families.
It is day five after Hurricane Irene whipped out bridges and homes and power to much of the mountaintop. My friend, Annie, whom I am visiting in Hunter, one town over, asks if I want to help feed the emergency workers in Lexington and off we go by 4pm to see what we can do.
Two small white tents are set up in front of Lexington Mission, a tiny old wooden church that just opened its doors five months ago. Under the tents, tables are crowded with pans of chili, rice casserole, salads, cinnamon buns, colorful cookies and celery sticks for starters. Other tables are set up for people to sit and eat. Half the community is still without power. Showers are at a premium. Phone service, internet and hot meals are sparse as well. Outside Lexington Mission, members of the community, emergency workers, and the tireless Lexington Fire Department and Rescue Crew are all milling around.
We quickly meet Helen Kerr, a native of the mountaintop. Helen extends us her hand. Her cheerful smile matches her friendly handshake.
“It’s a Greek wedding,” she chirps, alluding to the fact that she and other volunteers have been serving three meals a day here for the last five days since Monday after the storm. She is giddy and overtired, and sits at the food prep table as we begin to prep and chop tonight’s dinner.
I find a good knife and split open a pineapple. Annie sets herself on cutting up peaches. And before we know it, other volunteers are cutting up apples and melons and bananas for a fresh fruit salad.
Lisa Mafucci arrives with a stack of disposable roasting pans held high above the gathering crowd, a bag of food balanced inside. She heard the announcement on the radio that help was needed and drove 40 miles from Athens, NY, to be here.
A young man named George mans the grill. He sports a spiffy straw cowboy hat with sunglasses nestled in the brim and a T-shirt with the words BLUE FOREVER that looks like a 911 reference. Chunks of venison sizzle under his spatula on one side of a grill. Two juicy London broils simmer on the other side.
“This community means more to me than where I live,” he tells me. His folks have vacationed in the area from New Jersey since the 60s.
Next to him, a young husband from the nearby Bruderhof Community tirelessly flips hamburgers on another grill. His wife, in proscribed religious attire of blue plaid dress and head scarf, cuts up vegetables with the rest of us as an entire aluminum roasting pan begins to brim with the bright red of local tomatoes.
A New York State troopers’ SUV pulls up alongside our prep table. One of the troopers gets out and asks us in a quiet, reserved voice where he should put what’s in the car. He points to eight boxes of hamburger patties, 40 in a box, and a trunkload of sodas. A gentle demeanor comes through the stiffness of his navy blue uniform when he tells us this contribution was left over from a benefit. He is directed to the little store across the road. It has power.
“Last night we served 200 people,” Helen says, her spirit calm and glowing, the gold cross around her neck clearly serving her well.
She and Debbie Valerio, who grew up across the street, welcome us volunteers like old friends. The two of them and another native, Charlotte Jaeger, have been coordinating breakfast, lunch, dinner and, before they can catch up on their sleep, breakfast again for the better part of the week. No one has had much sleep, but everyone remains upbeat. The outpouring of help has kept spirits up.
Jack Jordan, the Lexington Mission's pastor, and his wife Kathy, opened church doors to distribute food and clothing and other supplies just after the town was hit by Irene. Sunday night, when she could get out, Kathy went to Dolph’s, the deli in Tannersville, to buy a few things to serve the community. Dolph dismissed her offer to pay and donated cold cuts, rolls, pickles and chips.
Jack and Kathy run a food pantry in the church. When the storm subsided, it was the obvious place to bring food.
“First everyone was taking stuff from their freezers,” Kathy tells me. Electricity went down early Sunday -- and is still down for much of the town. And soon people from all over the mountaintop came with trucks and trucks of food and supplies. Donations came from far and wide -- organic apples from an orchard in Red Hook, a farmer’s crop of field vegetables in East Jewett. Albany airport, Freihoffers, Hunter Mountain, Scribner Hollow Restaurant and many more all contributed.
“Everyone was crying,” Kathy tells me. “It was very sad, but by Wednesday it was like this,” she gestures to the community gathering outside her church. “You can see the healing begin.”
Kathy interrupts herself to address a young volunteer fireman who tells her he hasn’t had much sleep. His family’s house is fine on the upstairs, he reports, but the downstairs had the Schoharie Creek run through it at six miles an hour.
Hurricane Irene made the Schoharie Creek rip through the lower side of Main Street in Lexington and flood ten houses. On Route 42, two bridges went out, leaving 36 residents stranded on what was soon dubbed the Route 42 Island. Some were second-home owners from New York City and opted to be helicoptered out. Others stayed with their homes.
The National Guard has been working on the top of the notch for the last four days. The road is closed. The Army Corps of Engineers is here. New York State police on all-terrain vehicles bring food and water to stranded residents. Roads in nearby Spruceton are out. Between Walkill and Lexington, a seven-mile stretch across three towns, a total of nine bridges are damaged or gone.
Emergency workers have averaged two to four hours of sleep a night since Sunday, despite regular assistance from a large number of fire and rescue squads from all around.
Paul Dwon, Fire Chief of The Lexington Volunteer Fire Department, and his wife were too busy to pay much attention to their daughter’s third birthday yesterday. The food volunteers made sure she had a chocolate birthday cake that was complete with decorations, made in one of the town’s few working stoves. And her friends who could all came to the church in party clothes. The birthday girl is Pastor Jack and Kathy’s granddaughter.
Finally, Helen and Debbie are able to sit down and grab a bite to eat. The sun is setting behind the mountain and the day’s heat subsides. I ask Helen if she is a member of the church behind her.
“Not now, but I will be,” she says as she sits straight, her shoulders comfortably back and a smile broadens across her face like the silver lining of a cloud.
