Transitions

Change is hard – the small changes as well as the big ones. Lately, there are moments when I think, I can’t believe the things I have been through, and where I’m headed – not in a “poor me,” kind of way. No, I rarely feel sorry for myself – I’m far too aware of how many people have it worse than me, and I’m grateful for my relative good fortune. But still, there are those moments when the transitions feel as though they are getting the better of me.

I like to know what to expect as I head into a day, a week, a month. I plan some of my activities seasons ahead, and as my schedule gets busier, I’m getting more of a sense of the overall shape of my year. So when curveballs get thrown my way, I tend to get a little anxious.

There’s the major life curve balls – the death of a loved one, losing a home. Even the good ones can throw your life into disarray – birth of a child, or a new job. With every significant change in our life circumstances comes a revisioning of who we are and what’s expected of us. It can be as extraordinarily unsettling to come into good fortune as it is to weather a tragedy. Just think of all those people who win the lottery, only to find their lives in tatters a year later…

I have lots of experience dealing with illness and death. They’ve been a part of my life and my family for decades now, and though it was never my intention, I’ve become quite adept at dealing with both the large impacts and the daily intrusions wrought by unpredictable health circumstances.

My husband, friend and life partner of 22 years passed away about three and a half years ago, from complications due to a lifelong chronic illness, sickle cell anemia. He left me a single mother to our son, and the owner of our two-family home. Now, my son is almost 10 years old, and I’m preparing to sell the house I can no longer afford to keep. At the same time, I’m busy launching my own business and digging into a new romantic relationship.

My changes are unique to me, and matter most to me and my family. In other words, I’m pretty sure they are not keeping other people awake at night. However, the way in which I deal with them does affect other people in my life. As they are all dealing with their own issues, my anxiety has the potential to rub off on them, just as my relative calm may actually reflect back to them another alternative.

This is the motivation behind my desire to share my experiences with you. I’m not in the business of identifying myself by my trauma. Sure, I could, but I choose not to orient myself around my losses. Instead, I like to think of my life as a series of stories – some more harrowing than others, each with a beginning, middle and end that when combined, have become an amazing blending of lessons and challenges, one informing the next.

And I guess this brings me back around to the topic at hand. Transitions. For me, each day is a series of transitions. Every time I wake up in the morning, I have to negotiate my way out of bed. Moving from one task to another requires a shifting of focus. Getting my son prepared and off to school is but the first phase of the day. From there, I have to put on my professional hat, my creative hat, or my domestic goddess hat (that’s the one I wear when I have to do the dishes, or fold the laundry). Sometimes moving from one small thing to the next can be as difficult as managing a major trauma.

I’m not sure why this is… I only know that fear and anger can rise up, ready to dismantle us, at any given moment. I’m not a psychologist. I don’t have the patience to examine the reasons, and I certainly don’t have any advice as to how to prevent those feelings from occurring in the first place. Just be different? Ha ha.. I think not. We are who we are, much as we’d like to pretend otherwise.

What I do know for certain, is that in every moment of our lives, we have choices. We can act on our feelings impulsively, reflexively, in ways that we may even know to be destructive, but somehow feel helpless to change. Or, we can endeavor to take just a few extra seconds, enough for one good breath, long enough to give ourselves a chance to calm down a little, consider a different path, even wait on a response.

In all the complexity that comprises the many layers of our lives, there is one thing we all have in common. As long as we are alive, each of us continues to breathe. In that one mundane yet somehow miraculous act, we are, every single human being, connected. There has got to be some potential in that – some way to drill down from the biggest, most dramatic and complicated circumstances to the myriad of small moments in a day, each of which gives us the opportunity to pave the way for a smooth transition to the next…

Photo courtesy of LaserGuided

The Porcherator

Four days ago, my refrigerator broke. Fortunately, it’s the middle of a very cold winter, so I was able to store my perishable food on the porch.

On the first couple of days, there was plenty of ice in the freezer so I was able to use it as a cooler, having moved the frozen items outside. But then, since the unit was completely dead and the ice gradually melted, I eventually had to bag everything else up tightly (protection from critters) and place it outside the front door.

I live on a quiet block in a pretty good neighborhood, so I wasn’t concerned about someone climbing the stairs to my illuminated second story porch to rummage through the shopping bags sitting under my mailbox. Although it was a bit of an inconvenience to have to unlock and open my front door and the storm door every time I was ready to fix a meal or a snack, at least I didn’t have to throw away all my food.

I confess, it took me about a day or so to figure out that I had this great outdoor cooling unit at my disposal. Duh on me. But once I figured it out, it was kind of like indoor camping, without the bugs, or the blackout.

One thing that was a real pain in the ass – I have this front door that leaks air really badly at the bottom. Rather than permanently fix it, I just use a rolled up towel to cover up the gap and stop the breeze from blowing in. I lost track of how many times I had to move and then replace that damn towel over the weekend. Must. Fix. Front. Door. OK, it’s on the list.

Do you know, there are ways to eat that are so simple, that you could get by on about one quarter of the amount of food you might think you need to have in your refrigerator at any given time. For five days, we’ve dined on various combinations of the following staple items: eggs, milk, plain yogurt, butter, cheddar cheese, bread, corn tortillas, pickles, strawberry preserves, avocado, chicken soup (OK, I went out and bought all the ingredients to make that, because my son has also been home sick with a cold this entire time), pan fried fish (OK, I had cooked up an entire batch of dover sole I bought on sale at Whole Foods the night before the refrigerator died. Both the soup and the fish made great, easy to store leftovers that we’ve dipped into over the course of several days), frozen strawberries, peaches and mangoes (slowly defrosting, used in smoothies), kale, mint, celery (all three of which also went into the smoothies), frozen tamales, frozen peas, bananas, and one nutrition bar I ate by myself after my son fell asleep one night. Beverages have consisted of water and various varieties of tea.

What’s my point? Well first of all, things are not as complicated as we think. I know I could do with a lot simpler shopping list, cook meals that last for several days, and not feel like I have to snack endlessly. I could eat healthier and not spend as much money.

Secondly, I am very lucky. So our refrigerator broke. So what. Yes, we were lucky in that I had a service contract. What a good investment that turned out to be. Although we did have to wait for four days to get on the service schedule, since it happened just before the weekend, we were able to make do, and it was only temporary. Also, it wasn’t like we also lost heat, electricity or water, as can happen in large scale disasters. This minor inconvenience reminded me that people can and do survive interruptions to the flow of their daily existence much worse than this. And today, my favorite GE repairman showed up to replace the faulty circuit board that was the cause of the problem.

Having my son home sick this entire time (fortunately, though he feels pretty miserable, it’s only a bad cough and a cold) reminded me of how it was when my husband and I used to cope with his periodic sickle cell crises. That kind of major medical situation would stop the flow of our lives completely. Everything optional got put on hold, and all of the essential activities, such as working at my day job, took on a kind of vibrating intensity colored by the underlying urgency of his condition.

Without the red alert status of a life threatening disease flare-up, what’s left is reminiscent of those times I got to stay home from school as a kid, sick enough to enjoy my mom’s nurturing care, but not too sick to prevent me from enjoying hours of reading a good book, or watching cartoons or other silly shows on TV. Of course, that kind of liminal time-out-of-time is not fully mine to enjoy now. I still have work to do – assignments to complete, deadlines to meet. But in between, I can watch my son, wearing his pajamas all day, lolling from one activity to the next, most fairly mindless, just trying to pass the time while his body fights the germs that take their time doing their dirty work inside their body, just waiting for them to clear out.

I give him as much water and soup and herbal tea as he can stand. I help him blow his nose over and over again, rubbing soothing vitamin E oil onto the irritated, reddened skin above his lips. We spend more than the usual amount of time cuddling together reading Harry Potter, and yes, I’ve seen a few too many mindless Disney Channel pre-teen situation comedies.

I’m sure I will be climbing the walls shortly. Another day of this is about all I can stand. Plus, I have appointments coming up later this week outside the house that I can’t cancel, so I’ll have to start coming up with alternate childcare plans. And my son has some big overdue homework assignments that I will have to help him complete, despite how crappy he feels. Oh yes, I can feel my patience and calm evaporating. I can hardly finish one article on my to-do list. I wish I could just let him play and loll and leave my own work behind and just watch hours and hours of TV with him on the couch, eating soup and drinking smoothies…

But in the meantime, the bags of food are off the porch just in time for today’s icy rains and tomorrow’s forecasted warmer temperatures, there’s still a half a pot of chicken soup waiting for us in the refrigerator, I think I have some stuff to make pasta and homemade marinara sauce, and tomorrow we should be getting the next Harry Potter movie in the mail courtesy of Netflix.

Really, life is good…

It’s a New Day

Well, I couldn’t muster a year end Top 10 list, and honestly, New Year’s Eve has always made me a just a little uneasy – so much performance pressure to have a good time. I can’t really blow my mind with happiness on cue. I mean I am pretty upbeat, but when it starts to feel forced, I just want to slap kittens.

I think I’ve found the key to New Year’s Eve happiness. Church. I’m serious. But not just any church. For the second year in a row, I’ve attended New Year’s Eve Watch Night service at Canaan Baptist Church in Harlem. From the exuberant gospel choir to the pastor’s fiery sermon to the commemorative countdown to freedom just before midnight (the Emancipation Proclamation came down 150 years ago, on January 1st, 1863), I felt awash in the glow of faith and optimism in the face of struggle. That kind of spirit speaks to me across all lines.

Of course, after church, there’s a house party, complete with food, friends and my new favorite, coquito – Puerto Rican coconut eggnog with a kick. I was not the designated driver this year, so I felt completely free to get buzzed on my little half a glass.

Heading back into the work week today and jump starting the new year with good intentions, I do have a few thoughts I want to share, in no particular order.

Boundaries. I’ve thought a lot about these suckers over the years. Now that I’m a parent, I understand more than ever the need to impose them on a child. My son, now 9 and a half, has fully embodied his assigned task of pushing said boundaries at every juncture. I realize it’s his job right now. Just as it’s my job to impose as strict a set of standards and practices as I can muster.

Boundaries. I was deprived of them at an early age by a mom who did not know any better. Little did she realize the kind of work she was setting me up for later in life. She enjoyed the comfort and reassurance of having a precocious little friend, and I developed an outsized sense of my own capabilities and responsibilities. It was a curse and a blessing, I suppose. I’m sure I’m also unwittingly giving my son a ton of mixed messages, but I’m really conscious of the process here. Even though I applaud his rebellious super confidence, I know it’s my job to show him the rules before he can grow up to break them in his own way.

These are lessons learned from training in music and theater and writing. It really helps to learn music theory basics – time and key signatures, scales, arpeggios and intervals of all kind, before you jump off into the land of improvisation. It’s good to know all about Aristotelian dramatic structure before you tear down the 4th wall and deconstruct narrative. Understanding the fundamentals of storytelling allows me to play with expectations yet still deliver good drama or suspense in my writing.

I am all about breaking down walls and operating in hybrid territory. I resist categorization of most kinds in my life and my work, and as a human being. Sure, I’m a woman, I was born and raised Jewish, in Long Island. But it was at a time when family structures and notions of personal and cultural identity were breaking down all around me. Now I’m a widow and a mother in an age when family units are being further redefined in countless ways. I pick and choose my elements of worship and belief from multiple spiritual traditions, and I define my politics, like my sexuality, on the relationships I cherish most, and the priorities I see before me.

Nobody puts Baby in a box.

I see a new year full of redefinition on the work and creative front, as well. More now than ever, I’m living my life as an entrepreneur and a freelance writer. Some of my projects take up more of my time than others, and my focus shifts with the priorities of any given moment. Imposing structure into such a free form lifestyle is my latest challenge. How does one create a routine that’s based on an internal to-do list, instead of orders from a boss? Many of you are familiar with this challenge already. Many more of you may confront it, as our economic system continues to evolve at a heady pace.

Do I sound optimistic? I am! Even as I’m preparing for some major and potentially frightening changes in all aspects of my life. I maintain that the calamities and sorrows of my past have armed me with more than enough resilience and perspective to manage whatever is preparing to come my way. And if not, I’m prepared to bluff my way through…

Can you feel the buzz? It’s a new year, a new time, a new day… can you feel it??

The STREB dancers, jumping off into action, 12/22/12

Christmas Thoughts

Christmas. My Christ-leaning friends celebrated his birthday with varying degrees of piety, while many of us navigated the pervasive lure of gift giving and receiving. How could we not be pulled in, or at the very least aware of its presence? It’s sparkly, inviting – shiny new things, or quaint, hand-made, artisanal… it’s everywhere we look, on the streets, our TV’s, our computer screens, in the eyes of our kids who have such high expectations and must constantly be brought into balance with financial reality and spiritual exigencies… It’s Christmas spirit, in all its complex dimensions, rolling through town on a wave of commercialism buffeted by blankets of wet snow, and on the night after, I’m so glad to be inside, not battling the hazards of driving in such a mess.

Meanwhile, yesterday…

12/25/12
In the wee hours of the morning, I see a light on the horizon, even though it is dark outside. I feel a connection to the suffering of children who have died needlessly, families who have lost their loved ones, their homes, their jobs, their identities… and people everywhere who continue to ask themselves the question, who am I in this world?

What rhythm does my heart seek? Do I wish to vibrate alone, or in concert with others? Do I seek agitation or compromise, challenge or resolution, peace or combat? What will it take to satisfy me?

Is it the accumulation of things? Of money, of matching sets of collected pairs and groups and duplicate, triplicate redundancies for safety’s sake? How much is enough? What will it take to protect it all? How afraid am I to lose it?

Why do I ask these questions on this day? is it religious belief, or seasonal pressure? The collective, commercial push to reckon, end of the year style, with all that has transpired lo these many days since the last quickening of the morning?

The darkening will cease, wheels will turn, groaning, grinding along the fault lines of the inevitable shift. Yes, the tide is turning… in the sky, in time… in my heart.

I enjoy being in love, even as I’m afraid to enjoy something I may lose – afraid to let myself go in the not knowing. I’ve weathered so many losses, that a profound gain would seem a welcome respite, but it’s not that simple. The passion of loving another, like the passion of creation, entails an exploration on both sides of a pendulum’s swing. Happy face, sad face. Each stretches the skin, the direction of the pull is almost inconsequential.

So I choose love. I choose passion, and brilliance. I choose to believe I’m worth it, and it’s possible, and everything I know to be true really is true. I choose to believe in universal connectivity and higher forces and controlled chaos, and that random kindnesses are actually part of a larger plan that we are powerless to control. All we can do is adjust our level of resistance.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

This simple yet deeply resonant day means so many different things to so many. Some feel insulted by the naming of it, while others feel negated by the non-naming. Through time, people have died for the right to celebrate it, while others have died for somehow denying its significance. And yet, drilled down to its essence and origin, it’s a day to celebrate the birth of someone who embodies goodness and love and caring for all living things… including ourselves…

Can we agree that there is room to celebrate this in so many ways? I come in peace. I crave calm. I look for goodness everywhere. Aren’t all of these things still possible? (I believe they are.)

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night… and much love…

GET INVOLVED with Ongoing Hurricane Sandy Relief Efforts

Hello to all my fellow New Yorkers, tri-staters, out of town friends, and all of you who have been impacted by Hurricane Sandy. Although I’m grateful that my son and I and our immediate family were spared the worst of Sandy’s wrath, I have several dear friends whose homes were lost in the storm, and I’m disturbed that so many of our community members are still suffering way past the point of acceptability. Business as usual is resuming for so many, but not for others. Fortunately, there are still many of us who care and who are doing something about it.

For the past several days, I’ve been collecting information regarding events and ongoing work on behalf of the people who are still without power and basic supplies in the wake of the hurricane. I’ve assembled a list of articles and notices for those of you who want to know more about the various relief efforts and how you can support them or get directly involved.

This is by no means an exhaustive list, but it does speak to the various communities with which I’m personally connected. Feel free to comment with additional information that you’d like to share with one another.

• In Brooklyn, active relief efforts have been undertaken by Red Hook Initiative and Occupy Sandy. These groups both still require volunteers for this weekend.

• The NYC Service page lists a number of agencies and programs that can use your help or contribution.

• Runners from around the world who had come to NYC for the New York Marathon redirected their energies towards helping storm victims after the event was cancelled. Read here about the continued activities of New York Runners In Support of Staten Island.

• The venerable international organization, Doctors Without Borders, has applied its technical and logistical expertise towards assisting local aid workers in the most affected areas. They can always use more financial support.

• The organization Acupuncturists Without Borders is offering a series of free acupuncture clinics for trauma and stress at locations in Rockaway Beach, Point Pleasant, NJ and Manhattan, including one this afternoon (Friday November 9th) at the Pacific College of Oriental Medicine (PCOM, 915 Broadway, 5th floor at 21st Street NYC) from 2:30-6:00.

• The Shambhala Meditation Center of New York is organizing a day of service to assist Hurricane Sandy victims on Saturday, November 10, 2012.

• Advocate for New York is holding a Far Rockaway clean-up tomorrow, Saturday November 10th.

• Families United for Racial & Economic Equality (FUREE) is monitoring official activity and providing ongoing assistance at Brooklyn’s Gowanus Houses..

• A group of Long Island ex-pats, their families and friends have galvanized relief efforts in Western Massachusetts on behalf of beleaguered residents of the Long Island towns of West Babylon and Lindenhurst. With operations based in Turner’s Falls, MA, they will be trucking supplies to Long Island this Sunday, November 11th.

• On his blog, New York Theater, Jonathan Mandell has assembled a list of resources for theaters and theater artists affected by the storm.

On the Lighter Side:

• One of our venerable lower east side eateries, Russ & Daughters, has done its part by keeping the lox safe.

• Here are some heartwarming messages from Katrina survivors in NOLA to NYC’s Sandy survivors…

• At Silk Rd Tavern, for the month of November, $1 from every entree goes to City Harvest for Sandy relief efforts.

• The good folks at TrivWorks have decided to convert their scheduled November 13th trivia night at The Bell House in Brooklyn, into a full scale hurricane relief fundraiser.

ALSO: This AMAZING article by Deanna Zandt in Forbes Magazine: When Good Intentions Aren’t Enough: How to Improve Sandy Relief

Thanks to everyone who is contributing their time, money or energy. Our community grows in strength and resiliency with each person’s participation!

The Eve of Election in Mercury Retrograde

OK, so did y’all know that Mercury goes retrograde tomorrow? What the hell does that mean, you say?

It means that all hell is going to break loose. Communication is going to be challenged (ha! that’s an understatement…), technology may break down (voting machines, eegad!) and wires are going to be crossed whichever way you turn. I predict (and honestly, it doesn’t take an astrological expert or a rocket scientist, of which I am neither, to figure this one out) that the election results will not be decided for at least a couple of weeks. Maybe longer.

I hope I’m wrong. Damn, I hope I’m wrong. We need to know what is going to be happening with our stupid, broken, (yes, better than so many others, before you start calling me un-American, God forbid) political system for the foreseeable future. We have to make plans. I need to know which way the gloating is going to go, so I can prepare myself to be either a) humble and appreciative or b) quietly resentful… or maybe that’s c) ecstatic and manically expressive of my boundless joy and relief or d) really, really, really pissed off or e) disgusted and pondering a relocation to Vancouver.

I’ve already made my feelings known. I’m an unabashed Obama supporter. You should see the back of my car. It’s got several, OK six Obama stickers on it. I can’t help it. I really think the President rocks. And obviously not ashamed to share that with the world. Despite the fact that not once, but twice, some kind neighbor left some very profane and hateful anti-fan mail on my dashboard, proclaiming Obama to be an Israel hater and other nasty things I don’t want to repeat here. I reported it to my local police, but hey, it’s not a burning cross or a spray painted swastika, and nobody got hurt. Hell, they didn’t even break the windshield.

I figure I’m OK driving around most of NYC, but take if a few miles too far to our West, or park it in the wrong neighborhood, and I feel the heat of lunch counter racism breathing heavy down my neck. I don’t love that in this day and age, it feels rather radical and a bit risky to be openly supporting the President of the United States. I’m talking beyond the usual partisan divides. This self-consciousness is grounded in a whole other awareness of historical violence and unthinkable atrocities aimed at human beings who look just like Barack Obama, my son or anyone else at least as dark and lovely as Halle Berry.

It’s confusing and humbling, to say the least. Yeah, it’s still a little dangerous to support the Black man in the highest office. Wow. Really? Yep. That’s right. This here’s America. Love it or leave it.

OK, I HATE getting political. But it is the night before the election.

Here’s a couple of questions I just want to pose…
1) If I think that everyone should be taken care of equally in the wake of a natural disaster like Sandy, or Katrina, does that make me a socialist? And why is Socialism such a dirty word, anyway? Is it because there have been corrupt socialist leaders? Or is the idea of shared responsibility and reward really so heinous?

2) Seriously. Is Mitt Romney really such an admirable man that we should want him for our President? Or is he just THE Republican candidate, the one to be supported by the party, no matter what? (I’m SO tired of our political system.)

3) Republican women… do you honestly think that the far right agenda is going to be good for you, as a woman? Have you thought this through carefully enough?

4) Does anyone think that Mitt Romney is really genuine and sincere? Or do they just hate Barack Obama, or THE IDEA of Barack Obama so much, that they will elect anyone the Republican party puts on the campaign trail?

5) Republican friends – will we still be able to talk civilly to one another after tomorrow? (I hope so!!)

Please give me strength.

Photo by jetheriot

Stormy Thoughts

It’s calm here in NYC, in this upper west side Starbucks, five days after the fury of Hurricane Sandy hit our metropolis. I am still trying to make sense of my feelings and the significance of the experience to me, to my family and friends, to the city and region as a whole, and of course, to our world.

I was not severely affected. My home lost power for a couple of days, but my son and I had a warm and loving place to spend the blackout days and nights. Aside from the inconvenience of having to relocate ourselves, some bags of food and basic supplies to another location, we were not significantly impacted. We did not lose our lives, get injured in any way, or incur damage to any of our property.

I have friends who are still without power. Again, none of them are in shelters, and none are in any life threatening positions of which I am aware. SO DAMN LUCKY!!! One friend’s mother lost just about everything she owned out of her home in Long Island that was completely flooded with about three feet of water. Despite the fact that her childhood home was ruined and her mother will no doubt be living with her and her family for at least the next six months, she is now in Ohio working to get out the vote for President Obama. I love her more fiercely than I can say for her commitment to our future, despite the shambles of her past and present.

On Wednesday night, I went trick or treating with my son and some of our friends around our mostly dark neighborhood, gathering what candy there was to be had from the sporadically electrified or otherwise determined to celebrate homes (our neighborhood always incurs random outages from block to block). It was an act of optimism. We didn’t mind letting the children get sugared up and run crazy for a couple of hours. On the flip side, it was a bit desolate and creepy, and we parents had to work to keep the atmosphere festive. Also, I ate too many bite sized candy bars, and now have two massive pimples on my way-too-old-to-be-going-through-second-puberty face.

Evil Sponge Bob on Halloween – note the evil eyebrows, bloodshot eyes and bloody fangs…

I have another friend who recently went through a period of renting out a room in her apartment on airbnb. After a half a year of that, she maxed out on having strangers living with her and swore she would never do it again. This week, after being offered large sums of money from individuals through that online platform, she’s been giving people access to her bathroom to take showers. She’s only accepted a fraction of the dollars they offered, and has used a portion of it to buy diapers for needy storm victims in nearby housing projects, who are still without basic resources. Unable to travel to her usual place of employment, her volunteer service has become her job for the week.

Today my next door neighbor and I donated some clothes, water, juice boxes and tampons to a local temple collecting supplies for people still in need of basic supplies. I had a bag of baby blankets from my son that I was saving for my cousins who are expecting their first child. After taking out one special piece, I donated the rest of those, too. I feel confident that my cousins will understand and support our choice.

My sister, returning to the east coast several days ago from California, spent two nights with us at our house with her cat, because her dark apartment is in what was until last night the dark and largely deserted east village. After emptying my own refrigerator and then bringing things back home again two days later, we did the same from her apartment to my place, and then back again this morning.

And so, this week has felt like one big disjointed moving sleepover party. Warm and loving, yet tinged with the pressing knowledge of the desolation and suffering happening in other places. I do not know how to make sense of this, only to report random details of the experiences. I feel grateful and sad, exhilarated and drained at the same time.

Workwise, it has been a lost week. Internet service for me was gone for several days, and even after I got it back, key people with whom I work have been unreachable. But mostly, I have been unable to focus on anything significant for any length of time. Transporting my and my sister’s bags of food and toiletries all over town has been a welcome distraction – tasks with a distinct beginning, middle and end.

Today I took my son to a friend’s birthday party at Dave and Busters. I stuffed my face with pizza, chicken, french fries and tortilla chips. I talked to the waitresses. They told me that people who have lost their homes and are staying in various Times Square hotels have been coming in for their breakfast buffet, spending time there distracting themselves while they wait for their government disaster assistance.

Come Monday, some NYC public school students will be sharing their buildings with shelter residents still living at their schools. The subways may be almost completely up and running again. Some people are still trying to put their lives back together again. Some of us who have already known hard times in our lives are putting our hard-earned muscles to use dealing with this latest manifestation of the spooky and random great unknown breaking up our familiar reality. Some of us, not quite as adept at handling major obstacles, have been forever scarred by the trauma of this new and frightening intrusion into our sense of safety. The latter group is learning that they will have to get in shape, sooner than they’d like…

My heart is fluttering. I am aware that everything is changing. I knew that things would be different after Wednesday, but I didn’t know that it would feel so diffuse, so raw and random and unfocused and paralyzing. My emotions are so close to the surface, but any sense of logic I could impose on this is absent. I am not sure. Of anything.

Honestly, did you think I was going to try and wrap this up in a neat ball and deliver it to you? Shit. It doesn’t work that way.