Here's to New York

I am so overdue for a blog post, that many of you (at least 2 of the 5 people who read this) probably thought something had gone terribly wrong (in which case, thanks for checking in…).  The truth is, the summer and early fall were filled with so many trips and activities, I was a bit MIA, but I did manage to write a post or two and then somehow neglected to post them.  My apologies.  However, in light of the recent devastation to hit New York and New Jersey, I will hold off on publishing a sarcastic rant complaining about first world problems for just a bit longer.  Instead, I’d like to do something uncharacteristic and dedicate this piece to the people of New York (and New Jersey, but adding these parens each time is going to get real old, real quick). 

When the meteorologists started predicting the super storm slated to hit the northeast, I did not take them seriously.  I, like many New Yorkers, remembered the hype of Irene where we were mercifully spared from any real damage.  As a result, it was difficult not to underestimate the predictions.  Nonetheless, I obediently went to the grocery store to stock up on non-perishables, water and batteries.  I hunkered down, as directed, and planned to wait out the storm.  By the early hours of the evening, I started to get scared.  The wind gusts were punishing and the news reports started showing images of coastal towns that were already feeling the impact of this storm (which had since been downgraded from a hurricane, giving people –or at least me - a false sense of comfort).  As the trees outside my window started beating against the glass, I took additional precautions.  I moved couch cushions to my bedroom and set them up beside my bed in the hopes that the bed would block any blown in window shards from hitting me directly.  At this point, naturally, I was convinced that I would be impaled by broken glass by morning, as I had simply never heard wind like that before.  In Manhattan, my friends were losing power one by one.  NYC had not lost power since the blackout of 2003.  This seemed serious.  When I woke the next day, I realized my lights were still on.  I had escaped the storm’s wrath completely unscathed (though likely 5 pounds heavier as a result of all the wine and hurricane snacks I managed to devour while I prepared for impending doom).  Outside, the sun appeared to be shining.  Perhaps this storm was not that bad after all.  Only then did I turn on the television. 

I can’t fully describe my reaction to the images on the news.  The images that only increased in number and devastation over the next few days.  And I can’t do justice do those images in writing.  Entire towns were destroyed.  People were displaced from their homes with nowhere to go.  Breezy Point had burned to the ground.  Staten Island looked like a war zone.  The Rockaways were unrecognizable.  Long Beach and Hoboken were literally under water.  And the death toll began to grow and grow.  And that is saying nothing of the millions of people without power.  Many of whom are still without power, as the nights are getting colder and another storm, supposedly, is approaching. 

In the days after Sandy, the city was devastated.  There was flooding and collapsed trees and debris everywhere.  New York City, the center of the universe, was virtually shut down.  The transit tunnels were full of water and trains and subways could not be quickly restored.  Buildings were flooded and businesses could not function.  People were walking miles to work or spending hours commuting on the limited bus options.  With power out downtown, the images looked like something out of a movie.  (I am told “I Am Legend” is the movie you're thinking of.  I haven't seen it, but I'll take everyone's word for that.).  Driving down Broadway with no traffic lights, no people, and very few cars was creepy and surreal.  And, without doubt, we were the lucky ones to be driving down Broadway on our way to our homes. 

But, it’s not a hurricane and its destruction that I want to express in this post.  We’ve all seen the news and the images displayed do a far better job illustrating the realities of this aftermath than I could ever hope to do.  Instead, it is the reactions of the people of New York (and New Jersey) that deserve note.  Say what you will about New York City, but the people who live here are truly a remarkable and inspiring breed.  And, I have never been as proud to be a New Yorker as I am right now.

Within hours of the storms exit, friends and families opened up their homes to those who had lost electricity and running water.  It felt like Brooklyn had become a refugee camp for Manhattanites below 39^th street.  So together we all watched the continued destruction unfold.  NY1 felt like a 24 hour movie, every time I turned on the television I watched another tragic story about a family who was dealing with the loss of a house, or worse, the loss of a loved one, as a result of Sandy.  To see this level of devastation just miles away was beyond humbling.  I felt so fortunate to be safe and warm, surrounded by friends and my property and possessions, all unharmed.   Each day I learned of another friend who had lost something, most things, or everything.  Offers of "anything I can do" felt so trivial.  I wanted to help, but felt so helpless.  And as people struggled to put their lives back together, together New Yorkers came out to help. People started putting their own issues aside.  They made the long commutes to work without much complaint, acknowledging they had little to whine about in light of what had happened all around them.  They asked only what they could do to help others.  It’s amazing what a little perspective can do. 

Over the next few days, volunteer opportunities started popping up all over social media and the internet.  My friends and I signed up for countless lists and sent many requests for information.  People started going through their closets and donating anything they could.   New Yorkers dropped bags and bags and bags of donated items at donation centers all over the five boroughs.  When I showed up somewhere with my second bag of sweaters, I was told clothes were actually not a priority at this point because they had received so much.  Imagine that; within 24 hours, the need for clothes was minimal because so many New Yorkers had already stepped up.  People then went to stores and picked up specific items requested by those in need.  Cases of water, medicine, personal hygiene products, and food, among others, started lining the walls of the drop-off stations.  Over the weekend, people went from shelter to shelter and clean-up initiative to clean-up initiative, asking for ways in which they could help.  People showed up willing to be assigned to do just about anything, just desperate for the chance to do something.  The response was so overwhelming that people were actually turned away.  I spent a few hours at a shelter before realizing there were simply too many volunteers to be useful.  I went to donation sights and helped in any way I could (however small) and attempted to get rides to the hardest hit areas (as part of an organized volunteer movement, not simply hitchhiking, although the end result was probably not that different).   My experience was the same as my friends.  Too many people today.  But thank you and bless you and please come back tomorrow.  (Of course, some of those hardest hit areas are also the hardest to access by public transportation and as a result were still in desperate need for assistance but until the gas crisis was resolved, it would be harder to get to them.  Oh, did I forget to mention the gas crisis?).  In the process, I met so many inspiring and selfless people all trying to do the right thing.  To watch and experience this reaction to such a heartbreaking situation was incredible.  Perhaps it was something like survivor guilt, perhaps it was genuine selflessness, likely it was a combination of many things, but whatever it was, people showed up ready to roll up their sleeves and help those who had been less fortunate during the storm.  And as the days pass, the relief efforts only increase.  I continue to receive emails each day with new opportunities and look forward to joining my neighbors and trying again and again until this area is returned to where it needs to be. 

One important thing to take away from any crisis is the response that follows.  In New York, the response was overwhelmingly positive.  I was blown away by the lengths people went to try and make a difference.  I am impressed and amazed and so very inspired by my many friends who found their way to the Rockaways and Staten Island and helped clean basements, organized donations or gave blankets to people who were cold.  The sheer generosity of NYC residents gives me pause.  I am grateful to witness such goodness around me.  In the aftermath of a natural disaster, New York powered through and it powered through together (yes, even without power.  too lame?).  In the wake of a tragedy, the thousands of volunteers carried the same message of hope, the same promise to rebuild, the same determination and pride and genuine compassion that I am not sure exists everywhere else, or even anywhere else.  It is a true testament to the people in this city, in this state, in the whole tri-state area, really.  The relief efforts, so strong in the face of despair and devastation, restore my faith in humanity and make me so proud to be part of this great city.  Here’s to you New York, because today I am truly honored to call myself a New Yorker.  Thank you.