Living in this city your entire life gives one the opportunity to experience things you would not normally encounter in any other part of the country. Many of these experiences are deeply unpleasant and disturbing, including periodic attempts, with varying degrees of success, by terrorists to blow up large sections of it, along with its inhabitants. Putting aside the preternatural feeling that I’m living in a very bad Michael Bay film-as if there is any other kind-there aren’t many things that occur to or in New York that shake me out of the existential torpor which stems from spending most days trying to avoid 8 million people.
That said, if you had told me a decade ago that there would be another nationwide, star-studded telethon created with the intention of raising millions of dollars for relief and recovery efforts ostensibly helping the victims of an epic disaster in New York City, I probably would have scoffed. Granted, New York has seen its share of momentous climatic events, including nor’easters, earthquakes, and even tornadoes. Yet not many people expected a natural disaster that would kill over forty people in this city, nearly half of whom came from Staten Island.
The idea that there would be scenes of devastation less than two miles from my home which echoed images from catastrophic tsunamis across the globe is something that I still have trouble reconciling with my conception of New York City. The dislocation experienced by thousands of New Yorkers was something that hadn’t occurred since September 11th, and which will probably persist well into the next decade.
Living within the borough that has born perhaps the biggest brunt of Hurricane Sandy was disconcerting, but not because of any hardship I had experienced personally. Thankfully, except for some damage too miniscule to speak of I came out of the storm relatively unscathed. I wish I could say the same of my friends, some of whose lives were completely upended, an experience that included being driven from the places into which they had invested blood, sweat and tears for decades in order to make a home for their families.
Despite the regrets I have about leaving Brooklyn two years ago-and I still miss it every day-I don’t think I can properly express the gratitude I have for the people of Staten Island-friends, acquaintances, and in some cases complete strangers-who’ve shown me over these past two months the quality of character they have, regardless of how trying the circumstances they face might be. These are people who didn’t wait to be rescued by some benevolent factotum from the Office of Emergency Management or staffer from the Red Cross...
The Forgotten Borough (The Character of Staten Island)
