Sandy: A lot like grief

In New York, tired is a way of living. But it's usually a weariness of mind that you come to accept and shake off every few months with a trip to the suburbs or a less frenetic city.

The tiredness I have now is nothing like that. It feels a lot like grief. My city's buses and trains are moving, but so much else is still on the outside edges -- in tatters and hurting. Things here will not be a type of normal for many people for a very long time. And I know it, but sometimes I forget for a while, and then it washes over me again. Grief. 

I feel blessed to know what my neighbors in Staten Island and Far Rockaway and New Jersey are going through from my work experience over the past week, but guilty for dusting off my boots, taking a shower and settling into clean sheets in a warm bed to watch "South Park."

I have nothing to grieve for. Rich and I were so lucky in so many ways. Lucky we lived in a high place, unaffected by the storm. Lucky we have electricity. Lucky we have heat. Lucky we have employers that accommodated us. Lucky we had each other. Lucky we're alive.

I want to stress this. So many others were not so lucky. So many. I've been in the news business long enough to know how quickly the images become a blur. The houses. The garbage. The crying children and mothers and wandering, lost pets. The stacks of supplies. You've probably seen it all, and you're already sick of hearing about it.

But let me tell you something now. This is Amanda, your friend or relative or casual acquaintance. I've never seen anything like what I saw on Staten Island in the United States. It looked like a Third World country on the brink of breaking down. Have you seen this? The news coverage is beginning to turn away from this reality. It's the way of things, I know. Other things. The election. Back to the Upper West Side toddler murders. Remember those? You'll be swayed to turn away from the devastation. "Anything but Sandy." I get it.

But let me assure you, people will still be in need. I thank everyone who offered us assistance (there were many people!) Thank God I didn't need it. But there are so many that do. I was in a young couple's basement tearing out their walls. Their home was less than 15 years old. An elderly couple was too frail to come down and help our team as we hacked away at the saturated drywall in their basement bathroom they renovated just last year. Through it all, I thought over and over how easily the young couple could have been Rich and I, the other residents there -- my grandparents. What toll would that take on me? Would I be on the next plane to help my family? People are reacting as I hope I would, working to exhaustion on their homes and driving through garbage piles to help their loved ones.

But really, things aren't going to be all right for quite a while. Think about donating to someone.

And just a little P.S. -- A couple of things I learned about my city in the storm's aftermath:

1.  There are good people here. 

My cabbie picked me up and drove me through a maze of dead skyscrapers to get me to work. He nursed his cab to my workplace, running on fumes to get me to my destination. He has regularly waited hours on line to get gas. He has three kids and is currently looking into getting his mortgage payment adjusted because he couldn't work when his cab ran out of gas. He apologized profusely that he couldn't take me to work every day after Sandy. 

       

      2. This is a dramatic, beautiful place. 

NYC is lacking a mountain, in my opinion. It can be loud. It's manic. But it can be other things, too. It's devastating in its beauty -- and its quiet. I took the East River Ferry one day home from work. For two hours, I took in the gray skies and gray tides and iron skyline. I couldn't stop watching. Another day, I walked across the cold Manhattan Bridge in the light rain and stared between the fences and concrete slats at the rushing brown water below. I didn't breathe. It's not my typical standard of beauty. That's usually green and blue and bright. But New York's dark and melancholy and beaten look has its draw. Lucky that, because most of us are taking on that allure these days.