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| Back home after Hurricane Sandy. |
“We must define ourselves by the best that is in us, not the worst that has been done to us.” –Edward Lewis
Looking back at where my life was six months ago is difficult.
I’m sure it’s hard for many Canarsiens like myself, who are still getting back on their feet after Hurricane Sandy took away everything they held near and dear. It took me awhile to think about how I wanted to express – in words – where I am now in comparison to where I was on October 28, 2012.
The weekend before the storm, as
forecasters were predicting how Hurricane Sandy would tear across the
Atlantic, everyone conducted themselves as normal. I spent most of
the weekend cooking and enjoying time with my friends. Forget about
not living in “Zone A,” my home wasn’t really even in “Zone
B” to consider making any preparations.
When I remember the fear that washed
over me the night of the storm, I thank God that I’m alive to talk
about it. However, the sensation of not being able to do anything –
and the feeling that we’re all so much smaller than a natural
disaster – still lingers in my mind.
Where were you the night of the storm?
Safe in your home with a few rolling blackouts? Did you lose
electricity for a couple of hours or days? Those of us who scrambled,
as sewage and salt water crept up into our basements and then burst
through pipes, wish we only suffered a few days in the dark. For
residents who had to wade through flood-ravaged streets and leave
their cars to float away, they’ll never feel the same while looking
at the creek or inlet near their home. Sure, we’re strong enough to
recover and rebuild our lives, but the fear that’s instilled in us
has changed our lives and took away more than just material items we
can “easily replace.”
An avid walker, I often trek to Gateway
Mall on the weekends and I wind up walking through areas
of Canarsie that were hit hardest by the storm. Avenues
along East 105th to East 108th streets still wreak of disaster –
garbage piles of moldy furniture and walls are piled up on the
sidewalk. Six months later, homeowners who probably haven’t yet
collected on their insurance still have messes in front of their
properties, including downed trees and fences. Passersby can still
see contractors working hard to replace sheetrock and various
amenities that probably came with the home decades ago.
I have to admit, whenever I pass a
house that’s being worked on – or one where storm-soiled
household trash is piled up nearly five feet, I become saddened and
teary-eyed. Everyone is lucky to have survived the storm – even if
they were displaced and had nothing but the clothes on their back.
For many having to face what we lost, rebuild and start over, is the
hardest part of moving on with our lives.
I’ve lived in Canarsie all of my
life. But for those who have only lived here for 10 or 15 years, you
might not understand how much our community has been through and how
much has gone into improving our infrastructure – how much money
has gone into revitalizing our streets (I doremember dirt roads that
were dangerously flooded every time it rained). To see a disaster in
my community is like seeing years of hard work go down the drain.
That’s the same way I feel about
having lost everything when my apartment was flooded with 14 inches
of water. Even though the sewage water receded 12 hours after the
storm, there was still an inch of water in my apartment the next day.
I know people say you shouldn’t or can’t get attached to material
things – or places – but it was heartbreaking to throw away
precious documented moments of my life, such as letters to and from
old friends, journals written during my father’s last days and
historical memorabilia that sculpted my professional development.
The week of the cleanup, I was
physically sickened and exhausted from wringing putrid water from my
clothes, breathing in the stench of mold-destroyed furniture, sorting
out what was salvageable and lifting hundreds of pounds of garbage to
the curb. When you looked at each block impacted by the storm and how
many people’s lives were out on the street, it hurts to think that
everything you worked hard to preserve and attain can be demolished
in a matter of minutes.
Everyone, including myself, is a
different person as a result of Hurricane Sandy. No longer feeling
secure and safe in their home, victims will now panic each time they
hear that a storm is heading our way. We will think about what
valuables, if there are any left, we should save. When do we evacuate
and who will we stay with if we’re forced from our homes? It’s
not enough to have candles and water and emergency medications if we
have to fear leaving our homes to begin with.
Already, I’m going through the
motions in my head of how to prepare in the event of another flood.
My emotional security has been breached, as I’m sure many others
dread the news of hurricane season’s arrival – which is only a
few months away. Some of us no longer look at our homes like we used
to. We will always remember where that water line reached and how we
struggled to get our lives back together.
Growing stronger, in an ideal world,
means moving on and being thankful for the little things. But when
even the little things are taken from us, it makes it that much
harder to keep our strength alive for next time.
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| My living room after Hurricane Sandy hit. |
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| All of my belongings on the street after Sandy. |
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