And then there was a hurricane.

As soon as I returned from MoMA, I tried to reschedule my flight for that night. The Delta automated message said that they were experiencing an unusually high volume of calls and the hold time was approximately six hours. Of course, my Monday flight was then canceled and there were no other available flights out of the city. At this point, you couldn’t find a loaf of bread in Brooklyn. For the following three consecutive days, my “rescheduled” flight was cancelled promptly between the hours of 5AM and 7AM. Kai, Meridith, lil’ Ed and I walked around surveying the damage, napped and ate wherever we found open restaurants still serving food. Each day, their menus became smaller and smaller; one place even had “Superstorm Sandy Super,” which as far as I could tell whatever was going bad in the refrigerator thrown into one pot. Walking around Brooklyn was surreal, especially the Williamsburg-Greenpoint waterfront. At one point, I even recognized a Swoon wheatpaste on a brick wall refusing liberation from the wind and rain. Heading home, we ran into Virgil and Claire, old Grad School buddies, kids in tow, on a similar walkabout.

None of my friends suffered in the storm, none of their homes or studios were flooded. For that I am extremely thankful. I’m thankful that Kai and Meridith didn’t mind an imposed unexpected extended stay. I’m thankful that I was able to see so many of my friends before and after the storm hit. I’m thankful that Emily had a full tank of gas and that she was able to drive me to the airport when I finally got a flight back to Seattle. However, even two months later, I’m still extremely aware of and continually shocked by the class and race lines literally drawn in the sand by this storm and its aftermath. As thankful as I can be concerning my friends’ safety and health, I’m terrified tenfold by the thought of our society’s continued class warfare and the devastating, imminent environmental effects of global warming that I’m certain we will all experience in our lifetimes.  Woe unto you that laugh now! for ye shall mourn and weep…

Best buds!


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