Aftermath

My next door neighbor posted the above photo on Facebook, showing the powerful contrast of lower Manhattan two months ago on September 11th anniversary and last night.  

I took the photo above of New York Harbor few minutes ago  where I ritualistically look out at the water from my little kitchen window when coffee is brewing.   The harbor is typically full of life -

ferries, barges, small motor crafts, sailing vessels, helicopters during 'rush hour' flying from New Jersey to Wall Street and back, and frequently cruise ships leaving port from the Hudson going out to sea.

The stillness, the quiet, the absence of light - distinctive characteristics of New York City - are temporarily hushed during the aftermath of 'Superstorm Sandy.'

I personally fared so much better than many - never lost power, never was flooded (though the parking lot and road by the soccer field pier above was shockingly a lake during the height of the storm), temporarily lost internet and cable tv, have food, water, shelter, very very okay.  

It's hard not to think about how life was in New York City in the days, weeks and months that followed September 11th attacks, when invincible city dwellers were humbled with loss of lives, power, homes, public transportation, not knowing when you might return to work, the grumpiness of not having ordinary convenience of local businesses that you are used to, and the mere shock of the enormity of it all.   

Friends in New Jersey are surrounded by devastation and some suffering significant home damage.  A few in NJ and NY are without power, potentially for many days, and likely feeling that dull reality of how good life really was when you could just turn on a light, charge your phone, watch TV or have a hot shower.    

Family and friends from all over are checking in, and we are frequently checking in with each other locally, grateful to have texts from friends and colleagues in Manhattan that you're temporarily cut off from with flooded subway tracks that may take not days but weeks to pump out.

Many are gaining a much wider perspective of New York City as not just being about tall buildings, dense population,  bright lights, 24/7 activity, but in reality a small geographic area that's part of one of the largest natural harbors in the world.  (We are part of it, it's not just a small part of us...)

Like others who emerge from natural and man made disasters, we will be okay.  We will move forward and take care of each other and clean up.  We will temporarily remember again what matters most. 

Storm Watch

A few years ago when I was living in California, I remember being at a Labor Day weekend barbecue in San Francisco's Noe Valley and my friends calling me "Doppler" because I kept running inside to check the Weather Channel.  This seemed very strange to everyone under California's ubiquitous blue skies and sunshine, a beautiful day like many countless beautiful days out there, where weather changes are on the whole a lot more subtle.

When your family lives in Florida, paying attention to Hurricane Season becomes second nature.   You know that if certain storms stay on track, a sense of automatic pilot takes over: lawn furniture and plants go inside, provisions and extra water are purchased, boats are secured, generators come out, hurricane shutters are closed, quick calls are made to friends in the Bahamas and then everyone hunkers down to wait it out, and hope that it passes quickly.

Of course the Labor Day storm I was paying attention to under California's cloudless skies was Katrina, that took an unexpected turn, and didn't hit Florida after all, and instead dramatically impacted a beloved city to many.

This year, a late season storm missed Florida again though my niece Ellie took advantage of the giant storm's feeder bands for a spin around the neighborhood yesterday, while further up the East Coast we all prepared for the arrival of Hurricane Sandy.

Hurricanes definitely aren't second nature to us here, though 'events' certainly are, and yesterday seemed quintessentially  "New York" as little kids were out in full costume going to Halloween parties, and other people hitting bars and restaurants to stock up on social time out and being around a lot of people, two things we are very used to here.   Liquor stores were packed, stores were cleared out, with notable empty bread and salty snack aisles.  "There's not even chocolate donuts left," someone grumbled to me in line yesterday. 

Schools and offices sent closing notices yesterday, and our mighty public transportation artery of subways, buses, ferries and trains that powers a city of over 8 million people and greater metropolitan area over over 18 million people closed at 7 pm yesterday. Mayor Bloomberg issued mandatory evacuations for neighborhoods that might be flooded by tidal surge, and the stock market closed for the first time since September 11th in 2001. Atlantic City closed and the Jersey Shore evacuated. Governors in the Tri-State area had press conferences. Jim Cantore arrived on the scene.

Earlier today, the air was calm and still, and neighbors were outside with kids and dogs, getting some fresh air before the rain and wind arrives.  Friends and family sent texts and emails- New Yorkers checking in with one another in the city, others from around the country reacting to news and hoping for an easy storm.  I cooked while listening to early U2 and kept the Weather Channel off. 

So now we wait, a type A city that isn't good at "pause", waits.