One of my early and vivid memories: Toward the end of May, 1968, we got rain in north Jersey. Lots of it. Not just in Pequannock, but that’s where I lived then; that was my world.

I’d never experienced the sight of water coming up our street, reaching our driveway, surrounding our house… and, finally, getting into our house.  Filling the basement, and inexorably climbing the basement stairs. Heavy stuff for three young boys as their parents did what they could to save our stuff.

Many say this is still the benchmark by which all subsequent floods are measured.

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