My eyes have been staring at The Weather Channel, CNN, and online as much as possible the last couple of days, watching the heart wrenching reports of Hurricane/Super Storm Sandy. David is from New York and I lived there for many years. It's a relief to know our family and friends are ok but impossible to fathom the destruction and disruption in Jersey and the city, across Long Island, and everywhere else in the Northeast. What does ok mean anyway? They're alive; their homes are intact. But can you get from home to work? Does the lightbulb work? Can you drink the water?
The mind tries to make massive tragedy specific to understand it. Flooded subways? I thought of the RR and the D trains I used to take. Can't get there by subway? I thought of the days Brooklynites walked together back and forth or hitched rides with strangers (sorry, Mom) over the Brooklyn Bridge after a blizzard or subway strike. East Village under water? I thought of the good meals on 6th Street and good times in bars and bedrooms, of still feeling brave wandering around Alphabet City.
Of course humans are resilient--New Yorkers may be the most--but saying so minimizes the mess you have to deal with. We shouldn't ignore tragedy, any more than we should wallow in it. Lives are gone; lives are disrupted. Let's think about that and honor them, grieve with them or their survivors. Let's also take time to ask and say what lessons have been learned here.
Anyway, I'm off the podium now. No more lecture.
David and I did do our teeny bit to soldier on. We sat down and made plans for the Ginger Choo Choo stop in Manhattan Nov. 19. More than the book though, I just have to see the great city and my friends. It's been a while. It's been too long.
New York, baby!
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