Two weeks ago, a storm with no name sat off our coast for three days and reminded us how little it takes.
It was a September nor’easter, the kind of system older Long Islanders might once have shrugged off as just a wet, windy weekend. This one sent wind gusts past 80 miles per hour in Montauk and pushed as much as two feet of water into coastal streets with a near-full-moon tide.
Freeport residents raced to move their vehicles before high tide, and some Long Islanders paddled kayaks down roads they normally drive to work. The Long Beach Branch of the LIRR went dark. Nearly 112,000 residents lost power at some point.
And we got off easy. The storm stayed offshore. If it had tracked a few dozen miles closer, we would be writing a very different editorial.
Some things went right, and they deserve recognition. Anyone who lived through Tropical Storm Isaias in 2020 remembers hundreds of thousands of households in the dark and an outage-reporting system that collapsed when people needed it most.
This time, PSEG had more than 850 workers in the field, plus nearly 300 brought in from off the island. Most customers had power restored in short order. Village crews, volunteer firefighters and highway departments worked through the night clearing roads and pumping streets. Those men and women earned our thanks.
A fall storm that never made landfall is yet another wakeup call to the South Shore’s vulnerabilities that we have known about since Hurricane Sandy: low-lying roads that flood with every strong tide, storm drains that back up instead of draining, aging bulkheads, and a single rail branch that cuts off a barrier-island city whenever Reynolds Channel rises.
Which brings us to our elected officials. In the days after a storm, Long Island’s politicians are everywhere: touring flooded streets, standing beside downed trees, promising action. Their concern is real. But the photo opportunity is the easy part. The money that would have kept those streets dry is won or lost months earlier, in budget negotiations in Albany, in committee rooms in Washington, and in the unglamorous back-and-forth with federal agencies over which projects get funded first.
That’s where our representatives need to be fighting, all year long. Resilience funding doesn’t go to the region that suffered most. It goes to the region whose delegation shows up, makes the case relentlessly and doesn’t let the issue drop when the skies clear.
Long Island’s members of Congress, state legislators and county officials should treat flood mitigation, drainage, bulkhead replacement and grid hardening as a standing priority, not a talking point that surfaces every time the water rises and fades once it recedes.
Voters can hold them to it. With Election Day weeks away, candidates for Congress, the State Legislature and local office will be knocking on doors and filling mailboxes. Ask them, specifically, what they plan to do about flooding and the power grid. Which projects will they fight for? How will they get them funded? What have they already delivered? A candidate who can answer in detail has been doing the work. One who can only talk about the last storm probably hasn’t.
Long Islanders would like to see results on the ground: raised roadways and upgraded drainage in the neighborhoods that flood first, bulkheads that are replaced before they fail, and hardened transit infrastructure that doesn’t shut down every time the tide runs high. Local governments have homework, too. Residents shouldn’t learn that their street floods by finding their car underwater.
The next storm may have a name. It may track closer to shore, or arrive when the moon and tides line up worse. The nor’easter gave us a warning at a relatively low price. Our leaders’ job is to make sure we heeded that warning, and that work starts now, in the quiet months, long before anyone needs a kayak.
