NYC… What is it about you?
You’re big, you’re loud… you’re tough.
It has never been tougher than right now for some New Yorkers. Today has been a breakthrough day for me, but as I skipped along the streets of midtown the overpowering fumes from gasoline being siphoned and shared in the middle of the street was one of the numerous reminders that many New Yorkers are struggling through the most traumatic experience of their lives. A gasoline shortage is just one of the ripple effects that can range in intensity from a pain to a major problem. While many New Yorkers in the most tragic of circumstances resulting from Superstorm Sandy insist they are grateful to be alive and are ready to rebuild, I just can’t imagine that even once they are safely tucked within their new future home that the nightmare will be behind them.
It seems impossible to grasp the gravity of losing “everything” unless you’ve been there. Everyone in this city was directly impacted and the continuing effects weeks after the storm still ripple. Even if your neighborhood appeared just fine the next day, every block of the city is still far from normal… as is still the case with so many states in the northeast.
People in more fortunate situations are somehow making their way to the most devastated areas to do what they can. A friend was handed a sledgehammer when he went to Staten Island to lend a hand, and proceeded to help a family rip out their flooded basement. They worked without a break, in silence, pounding away. After an entire day, when they’d finished what needed to be demolished the family offered him money for his work, but there was no way he was going to take it.
This is the nearest I’ve ever been to such devastation. Yet, because I’m someone who was lucky enough to be in a neighborhood that was only slightly soggy after the storm, I have the luxury of hope and inspiration on this cushier side of the wake of Sandy. There’s a marked difference in my hunger for success – being on Broadway has always been my dream, but this week I’ve had two, you know … dreams in which I had finally gotten my first big break. And when I awakened to find they were only dreams, the dagger or the knot or whatever in my stomach tightened or – twisted – or, you know. It hurt. And made me hungrier.
Ok, wait. Really? You’re going to go from writing about mass devastation in your backyard to your showbiz dreams? Do you want to be the blogger equivalent of the thankfully canceled 2012 New York City Marathon? Ummm… no… but I am going to tie this into a much more fondly remembered Sandy – Annie’s dog in the Broadway musical. Here’s a heartwarming Huffington Post article about rescuing the beautiful pups for the current revival.