Thoughts on being away from NYC in the aftermath of the damage wrought by Superstorm Sandy

I finished my Masters degree in architecture in December of 1999. I still remember packing up our little Civic in the cold December winter in Ann Arbor and driving through rural Pennsylvania to travel to our new home, New York City. We arrived in Brooklyn on January 4, 2001 and settled in a tiny studio/1-BR in an iffy part of Brooklyn. Our first year in New York City proved to be an eventful year. September of 2001 brought the events of 9/11. I remember walking home from Manhattan to Brooklyn amongst the tens of thousands of stranded and bewildered New Yorkers in the suffocating summer heat. It took about 4 hours to walk home, primarily because the sidewalks were so packed with people that we could crawl along at a snail’s pace. As I crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, practically being pushed along in the dense humanity of Brooklynites, I felt like I was living in the news; millions of people around the world will read about these events and see the pictures, but here I am, actually walking across the Brooklyn Bridge! Later, we all wandered downtown, trying to give blood or donating supplies for the workers. For several years following, I remember looking towards downtown when crossing Brooklyn Bridge on the subway, and seeing the two pillars of light that eerily signified the lost profile of the fallen towers.

Later, we were also there for the Blackout and again found myself walking across the Brooklyn Bridge. Again, it was a hot summer day. As we crossed over to the Brooklyn side on the bridge, I remember people sitting on stoops with big drums, pounding a beat; it was like a festival! I remember people handing out cold bottles of water to strangers. I remember people yelling out encouragement to people obviously not used to walking this distance in the hot weather, their suits drenched with sweat, they yelled out “Welcome to Brooklyn! You’re almost home!”. Shopkeepers were outside handing out ice cream since the power was out and they would all be ruined soon enough. The sense of camaraderie was palpable: The City and all its millions of inhabitants were living through yet another slice of history again.

Since our move to Upstate some three years ago, we have been largely spared of large scale natural disasters. Hurricane Irene did flood our basement, but it was unoccupied (since I knew it was prone to flooding) and mostly harmless; it receded on its own accord in a few days. This time around with Sandy, again we were spared. We had some extra water on hand and tried to keep our cell phones fully charged, but that was the extent of our “disaster” preparation. I think the wind blew the cover off of our picnic table, but that’s about it.

Seeing the images of NYC and especially Brooklyn, I am struck by the immensity of the damage there and the disruption to life, but also the fact that we are this time not part of this latest chapter of NYC’s coming together to pull through this latest disaster. With subway systems paralyzed, no one is going to work, or anywhere for that matter. Everyone is coming out, taking stock of the fallen trees and debris, looking for opportunities to volunteer, clean up, make donations, or to extend a hand to a friend that may have been affected more by this latest disaster. And while I am in no way implying that this is a fun experience or that I would wish it upon myself and family, I am familiar with how events like this brings the community together and everyone’s busy lives stop for a moment as they converge to get through together. A small part of me felt like I was somehow “missing out” when I read the news coverage of the subways being down, people all holed up in their homes, or the photos of the giant tree that fell right in front of our old apartment building. I had lived through the previous events in NYC where among the mass panic and destruction of 9/11, the immense standstill bought on by the blackout, New Yorkers came together to help each other out, to bond, to forget their career ambitions and class divisions for a moment and to come together as a community. This is what I am missing.

We chose one of the more denser neighborhoods in Albany to settle down, and one with a nominal “downtown” within walking distance. We can and do walk to the library, church, and are very close to the various destinations that our family frequents, such as the YMCA, or the town pool. I have biked to Emma’s school, with her on the back seat, and I felt so happy as I coasted along, with friends occasionally passing me by in cars waving out the window. I felt connected to my neighborhood and felt good about being able to physically travel to my destination and live my life without the aid of internal combustion. I love to see cars I recognize when driving or biking around town, to honk or be honked at, and know exactly where they are going right now. In some way, it is my attempt to recapture the experience of living amongst neighbors and friends, where happy accidents can happen, where you can run into friends at the local grocery store.

Once, Yayoi was biking to drop off Emma at her Montessori school one morning when the chain fell off her bike. She was not able to slip it back on, so she decided to push the bike (with Emma sitting in it) all the way to her destination. Our friends, also enrolled in the same Montessori and on her way to drop off her son, noticed Yayoi trudging along and gave Emma a ride. These are the kind of moments when I feel we are successful in finding a new community in our new home in Albany, and while it’s not exactly the same as what we left behind in Brooklyn, it does embody a quality that is important to us in where we live.