Know your street before the storm does

Quick answer: Make a one-page sheet for your street with names, phone numbers, who has which tools and skills, and who might need a knock on the door. Agree on a simple signal for "we're fine" and "we need help." Do it before hurricane season, ice season or tornado season, whichever is yours.

Emergency managers say it the same way every time. After a major storm, roads close and crews are stretched, and for a while the people nearest you're the response. FEMA's Ready.gov guidance says to talk with neighbors about how you'll help each other, especially anyone with a disability, a medical need or no way to get around. That's the official version. Here's how to actually do it.

Start with a sheet, not a meeting

Don't call a block party. Meetings get postponed, and the three people who show up are the three who were already ready.

Walk the street with a clipboard and a pen, or just a stack of index cards. Knock. Say you're putting together a one-page list so the street can help each other in an outage or a storm, and ask if they'd like to be on it. Some will say no. That's fine. Cross them off and move on.

Twelve houses is a good size. If your street has forty, take your end and let someone else take theirs.

Each household gives you:

• Names and a cell number (and a text-only preference if they have one)
• Who lives there, including kids and pets
• Anybody who'd need help getting out or staying warm
• One skill or tool they're willing to lend

Print copies on actual paper. When the power's out for three days and your phone is at nine percent, a printed sheet taped inside a cabinet door is worth more than any app.

The skills list that matters

People undersell themselves. Ask specific questions and you'll find more than you expected.

Who has a chainsaw, and who knows how to run one? Not the same question. Owning one doesn't mean wearing chaps, eye protection and hearing protection. The man with the saw who is 71 shouldn't be the one climbing over a downed oak. Let him run the saw from the ground and let a younger neighbor drag brush.

Who has medical training? A nurse, a retired EMT, a lifeguard, anybody who's taken a CPR class. Write it down. That person isn't an ambulance, and nobody should pretend otherwise. Serious injuries still mean 911 first. But somebody who can stop a bleed and keep a scared kid calm until help arrives is a real asset.

Who has a generator, and does he know the rules? Carbon monoxide from generators kills people every year in outages, and the guidance is consistent: run it outdoors, well away from windows and doors. Our piece on generator rules covers the details. Ask the owner to share the rules with whoever borrows power from him.

Who has a truck, a ladder, a tarp, a come-along or a pump? After wind or water, those are the tools that get used first.

Who can cook for a crowd? Somebody with a camp stove or a gas grill and a good head for feeding twelve people out of the freezer before it thaws is worth more than a second generator.

Who has a well, a pool or a rain barrel? Water for flushing is a big deal on day three. Drinking water is a separate matter, so follow your local health department's guidance on treating anything that isn't from a safe supply.

Who has a battery or hand-crank radio? Local alerts keep coming when the internet goes down. We wrote about that in when the internet goes down, the radio still works.

Who gets the knock

Every street has a few households that are one outage away from trouble. An elderly widower. A young mother alone with a newborn. A man on home oxygen. A teenager home by himself while his parents work two jobs.

Ready.gov's guidance is plain on this: if someone relies on electricity for medical equipment, they need a plan that doesn't depend on the grid. Many power companies keep a priority or medical list for customers who depend on powered medical devices. A phone call to the utility is how someone gets on it, and a neighbor can help them make that call. Your county or city emergency management office may also keep a voluntary registry for people who'd need help evacuating. Dialing 211 connects people to local resources in much of the country.

Don't diagnose anybody. Just ask: "If the power's out for a few days, is there anything you'd need us to know about?" Then write down what they tell you, and ask permission to share it with the neighbor who's closest. Those are the only people who should see that part of the sheet.

If you live alone yourself, read what to do before the power goes out when you live alone. Then put your own name on the sheet. Being the helpful guy is easy. Being the guy who admits he'd like a knock on the door is harder, and it's what makes the whole system work.

Agree on a signal

You can't knock on twelve doors in a storm. Pick something simple that works with no power and no signal.

One that works: a sheet of paper or a towel in the front window or on the door. Green means fine. Red means need help. Nothing at all means somebody should check. Pick the colors and the rule now, tell everybody, and write it at the top of the sheet.

Decide when the first check happens. A reasonable rule is that once it's safe to be outside, the closest neighbors walk to the doors on their side. Nobody goes out during active lightning, tornado warnings or floodwater, and nobody drives through standing water. Safety comes before the check-in.

Keep your backbone

Serving your street doesn't mean being everybody's supply depot. Decide ahead of time what you'll share and what you won't. Your family's food, water and medicine come first, and you can say that without apologizing for it.

Don't hand out house keys, garage codes or details about what's inside your home because someone asked nicely on day two. Lend a tool, but only to someone who'll bring it back. And if the sheet has one person on it who takes and never gives, you aren't obligated to be the street's only well. You can be warm and still say "I can spare this, but not that."

Two small rules do most of the good here. Bring something when you come to help, even if it's just a thermos of coffee. And return anything you borrow cleaner and in better shape than you got it. The chainsaw you borrowed should come back with a sharpened chain and a full tank. Do that and you'll never struggle to borrow one again.

Start this week

Print the sheet. Knock on the first four doors on Saturday morning. Then ask your neighbor if he's got a ladder.

The best time to meet the family three doors down is a clear afternoon in the driveway. The second best is when their basement is flooding, and you'll wish you'd had the first.