look: after the hurricane

A ribbon hanging off the flag at our local public school

I’ve never lived through truly extreme weather – I’m from Southern England. The most dramatic storm I remember was the 1987 gale that downed trees and caused a lot of damage in the southeast, after weather reports scoffed at any danger. It gave my eight-year-old self nightmares whenever the wind made tree branches scratch my bedroom window. Since living here, extreme weather has been more frequent, but it’s always worse somewhere outside New York. I watched Katrina footage like I watch scenes from war zones – without being able to wrap my head around it by reference to any memory of my own. The stories my midwestern friends tell about racing tornadoes in their car are as alien to me as the weird green color that they say the storm turns the sky. So I had no idea how to react to Irene over the last couple of days – was this overreaction? Or sensible precaution? We wouldn’t really need a flashlight and a bathtub full of water and canned foods, would we?

Petey's on 30th Avenue baits amateur photographers.

In the event, no, we wouldn’t. But it seems absurd to criticize the mayor and the city for an overreaction to an inherently unpredictable event, or even to mock those panicking bottled-water hoarders, because sitting and waiting for something to strike that might hurt you or not is panic-inducing in its very nature. Everybody was keyed up, but because it was a weekend, and because things could have been so much worse, the whole experience took on the feeling of a very tense carnival.

I'm... not sure what happened here.

After last week’s earthquake, too, there was a similar sense of people needing to make fun of the danger, but at the same time the enforced community spirit that such mass panics can create is something people seem to yearn for. It is some kind of relief, some kind of respite, to stop having to worry about your own life for a moment and to worry instead about all of us, together. At one of Bloomberg’s press conferences a reporter asked if he was worried about looting. ‘This is New York,’ he said. ‘We don’t do that sort of thing here.’

I think this car's seen worse.

Of course, after the UK riots that ‘here’ was especially pointed, and it stung a little. Nevertheless, I think that moment showed real leadership – that simple expression of faith in community and civic pride, no matter that those things can so easily be dismissed as a fantasy and a fiction. In contrast to all the divisive anger stemming from real failures of leadership at home, I found it comforting to have my faith reaffirmed. (El Bloombito certainly helped as well.)

Next time: back to food & booze, I promise! How do fish tacos and margaritas sound?


5 thoughts on “look: after the hurricane

  1. I’m glad you and Tony are both safe and there was little or no damage to the area you live in. I called yesterday to check in and he downplayed the effect. I didn’t know you had such limited exposure to extreme weather. Over the last 10 years or so and certainly since Katrina, government warnings have erred on the side of caution rather than set realistic expectations.

    Can’t wait to hear about tacos and mararitas…. love

  2. Loved your little piece, Joanna – much more lucid and well-written than reports in our press, even the Independent and Guardian. Well observed! Lots of love… Mumxxxxxxx
    Fish tacos and margaritas sound, um, interesting??

  3. Hi there just wanted to give you a quick heads up. The text in
    your content seem to be running off the screen in
    Safari. I’m not sure if this is a formatting issue or something to do with internet browser compatibility but I thought I’d post to let
    you know. The design and style look great though!
    Hope you get the problem fixed soon. Cheers

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