thoughts after a hurricane

I had a post all ready to go about French Women Don’t Get Fat. But much has happened this week. Suddenly, musings about correct portions of soft cheeses and restraining oneself from nibbling at the piece of dark chocolate that’s served alongside the cappuccino seemed so… insignificant.

Not that I have anything to complain about. Compared to our fellow residents in the Tri-State area, we weathered the storm very well considering. We may have done a happy dance (and immediately felt guilty afterward) when Time Warner defied expectations and restored our Internet and cable last night. But we’ve remained aware and grateful of the fact that we’ve emerged post-Sandy dry, with the lights on, and most important, safe.

So many others haven’t been as lucky.

The media reports out of NYC, the boroughs, and New Jersey may start dwindling soon, but the situation is still devastatingly sad.

Much of lower Manhattan is still—four days out—pitch black and completely without power. Restaurants and other small businesses could go out of business if it’s not turned on in time. Art galleries and other buildings of import have been ruined. There’s a lot of standing water in the tunnels and the subways. Hourly workers like freelancers, servers, baristas, you name it, can’t work and, therefore, can’t get paid. People who must get to work in the city face a nightmarish commute. Residents are bickering about whether this weekend’s marathon should continue as planned or be postponed.

There’s a lot of suffering, a lot of pain, a lot of anger, a lot of feelings of helplessness, and a lot more to go before things are back to normal.

But one good thing to come out of the hurricane—if it’s even appropriate at this point to look at the upside of the situation—is the outpouring of care not just from New Yorkers, but from everyone and anyone who knows a New Yorker.

Inside the region, there’s a stranger on every corner offering a free phone charge, a ride in a carpool, a show of support. People are scrambling to volunteer time and energy and donate much-needed supplies.

And people outside of New York are being generous with their concern. Practically every friend and family member—some of whom I haven’t talked to in months!—have checked in to make sure I’m okay.

And guess what? Lest you are besieged by helplessness these last few days like I’ve been just know:

It’s the little things, little demonstrations of care and concern, that make it better.