Hurricane Sandy, You Are NOT the One That I Want.

Two weeks ago, Hurricane Sandy rolled through and made landfall in the New Jersey/New York region.  It was a huge mess.  We all expected our power to be out for a week or something, so everyone raided the stores in preparation.  Obviously, I followed suit.  How is it that impending power outages inspire you to make food purchases that you never would otherwise?  I mean, I bought Teddy Grahams, for crying out loud.  They are good and all, but I would never buy them.  It was like the need to buy food that didn't need to be cooked gave me license to buy some serious junk food.  Weird.

Monday, October 29th, I stayed home all day, and just listened to the wind and rain.  It was pretty insane, but we were totally fine; in fact, we didn't even lose power.  Truth be told, I was a little disappointed that nothing happened at all, not even for a few hours.  But I am more grateful than anything, especially after seeing what happened in other areas of New York, just a few miles away from me.  The destruction was incredible; people lost homes, some lost their lives, and even more people were evacuated and are still, two weeks later, just barely getting to go home.  And to what?  A damaged or destroyed home.  So many homeless from this disaster.  Really sad.  I have felt so helpless, up here in Harlem in my own little world, just fine.  The trains were down for a few days, so we really couldn't get anywhere.  So, my friends and I just laid low or spent time together, honestly.

I went out on a walk on Halloween morning, and found that the storm did not actually leave my neighborhood untouched.  But there was some great beauty to the receding storm as well.

St. Nicholas Park

This tree pulled up tons of sidewalk, and destroyed this car.  That is some strong wind.

St. Nicholas Park

Harlem Piers

Riverside Park

Kristin and Jeff on the train on the way to Brooklyn to catch our bus to Rockaway.

Today, I finally got to do something.  My stake was mobilized, and I went out with a bunch of other members, mostly single adults, to the Far Rockaway area of Queens, which was particularly hard-hit.   It was odd in a way,  at the beginning of our journey we had that little kid excitement of just going on a field trip.  But as soon as we got there, we saw the reality of what these people are facing. 




My team was sent to an area called Breezy Point.  We helped a man named Frank clean up his basement that had flooded from the storm surge.  We walked down into the abyss, and I couldn't believe what I was looking at.  Everything was destroyed in that room, and still wet, with standing water on the floor, after two weeks.  The water line was about 7 feet up on the wall.  There was nothing else to do but just get to work.  We cleaned out his basement, took the paneling off the wall, and also got rid of the sheet rock and insulation.  It was a huge job.  Frank had lived there for 40 years; he had grown up in that house.  There were 40 years of memories in that basement.  Frank is a writer.  The books I found!  So many books, and writings, of whose, I don't know.  I hope/think he had most of his work digitized by now, but still.  It broke my heart over and over again to find things and throw them away because they were in-salvageable.   Books and notebooks.  Encyclopedias (remember those??).  An old train set, probably from Frank's childhood.  Everything waterlogged, even the things that we could salvage.  His mother's china.  Really old, beautiful tea cups.  So much history.  I just couldn't believe it.

I wanted to take so many pictures because I was just in awe, but didn't because I thought that might seem a little insensitive.  But in the end, I got a few, with Frank's permission.  I also got a couple of shots of the neighborhood.  There was sand, just... everywhere.  Everywhere. 

Jamaica Bay, just over the rise.  The bay met the ocean on Oct. 29th. 

This was just on a break.  We weren't even done.

Our team with Frank and Mary.

I had many emotions very close to the surface all day.  Sadness, for Frank and his sister Mary, who was there, and for everyone who's lives were so affected by Sandy.  Humility, that I was so lucky when others weren't.  It didn't feel right.  Gratitude, for the privilege and ability to be there doing SOMETHING.  I have wanted to help since this happened, and have been frustrated and helpless.  It was so good to get in there and take some action.  And pride, that I belong to a church that knows how to mobilize its members in this way.  We can be part of the first response to an emergency, but we also are in it for the long haul.  I know we will continue to help.  I am just so proud to be a part of that.  This all sounds really pretentious, maybe.  But I really mean it.  I don't feel like I can adequately describe what this day has meant to me.

I was there with two friends who also sing, Jeff and Kristin.  Kristin had the idea to sing a song for Frank and Mary.  So the three of us sang "How Great Thou Art" for them, impromptu fashion.  I was so glad we did, and they both really liked it.  I think the Spirit was present, and it just felt good to leave them with one of my favorite hymns about Christ.  They are Catholic, so I am pretty sure they knew the song.  Probably a better option than "If You Could Hie to Kolob."  Probably.

Dirty and happy.  Rockin the Helping Hands vest.

It was a great way to spend my sabbath.  I would do it again in a heartbeat.  Judging from the amount that still needs to be done, I am sure I will get another opportunity.  Hopefully.