Rolex returned to owner after 9-year-old finds it washed away in storm in Stony Brook
Ron and Hui Borghese with Alex Canosa, 12, and his brother Joseph, 9, at their home in Stony Brook on Wednesday. Credit: Newsday/James Carbone
Floodwaters early Monday that began filling the basement of a nearly century-old home in Stony Brook churned up daunting challenges for the owners, but also, so far, a pair of minor miracles.
Minor miracle No. 1 came in the form of Snowy, the powder white pet bichon that barked Ron Borgese and his wife of about a month, Hui Yan, awake sometime after 2 a.m. Monday as the cascading rainwater rushed into the home on Main Street, close to Mill Pond. The couple, as well as Borgese's 30-year-old daughter, Dongren Guan, and Snowy, safely got out of the home, which was built in 1925, and have stayed at a hotel in the days since.
They were back Tuesday and Wednesday, combing through the two-story home, which was condemned after part of it collapsed and ended it up in a small stream leading to Mill Pond.
They were thankful for the diminutive Snowy's hearty bark and noted their good fortune, but also fate's sometimes rough hand: The family lost shoes and clothing, furniture and personally priceless family photos, even the wedding album of Borgese's parents.
"If we hadn’t decided to leave, we wouldn’t be standing here. We would probably be in Stony Brook Harbor," he said. "We were in bed and would have gone with it. It was devastating."
Missing from the family's expanding to-do list Wednesday, which included many questions surrounding the future — both for them and their damaged home — was an entry for "Expect Another Miracle."
Enter Miracle No 2.
This time it was a 9-year-old boy visiting his grandparents nearby, not the 18-month old family dog, that served up something special at a moment when it was needed most.
The boy, Joseph Canosa, trudged through the muddy bed near Mill Pond, using a metal detector at times as he searched for something of value, or maybe just something cool. He dug through the thick mud and eventually came upon shiny, precious and pricey objects.
"I was looking for different stuff," Joseph said, "and found a bracelet and the watch."
Not just any watch, but a Rolex. Along with the expensive timepiece and bracelet, he also turned up something more akin to his demographic: a commemorative coin of former Yankee catcher Jorge Posada.
The watch and bracelet belonged to Guan, who, amid all the chaos since Monday, had no idea her silver Rolex was missing. Joseph returned the watch, bracelet and commemorative coin Wednesday.
"I asked whose it was and kept it until we found who it belonged to," he said. "It feels good."
Said Guan of her burst of good fortune: "I didn’t expect people digging up stuff. I thought it was all gone. I’m so surprised that stuff started showing up one by one. People are amazing."
Joseph's grandmother Jane Taylor said he often comes over for beach cleanups.
"He’s a curious kid. I think once he found the watch and it was a Rolex, we thought it might belong to my neighbors," Taylor said. "He did the right thing, and he was really pleased to give it to the rightful owner."
Guan said someone else found a suitcase she brought back from Alaska that had washed downstream. She plans to hang the watch, which was still working, on a wall in the home to show how the good can sometimes mix with the bad.
"As long as we still have each other, we can start over again," she said. "Our lives are so much more important. As long as I have my mom and daddy here, their life is priceless."
Borgese said it was too early for him to know what comes next, for him, his family or their condemned home. Until then, they'll live as much as they can in the moment.
"This will pass and let’s see what tomorrow brings. Right now, we’re taking one day at a time," he said. "The best thing is that my wife, daughter and dog are still here."
John Asbury is a breaking news and general assignment reporter. He has been with Newsday since 2014 and previously worked at The Press-Enterprise in Riverside, California.
