I know I’m terribly late, chiming in on the devastating Super Storm Sandy that has, as of this writing, claimed 110 lives and severely damaged or destroyed thousands of homes, buildings, and infrastructure.
The reason: Having been born and raised in the New York-New Jersey area, I really can’t get my head around the images I’ve been seeing online.
Like this one:
That’s Seaside Heights, New Jersey, and can you blame me for not being able to conceive of the magnitude of the storm damage, when, for most of my life, when I’ve thought of Seaside Heights, I’ve seen an image like this in my head:
My most cherished memories of childhood through young adulthood reside in New York City and the Jersey Shore.
There is nothing cliché about hanging out on the beach, walking the boardwalk, nursing a sunburn, eating junk food, gawking longingly at the bikini beauties, and then driving home with the windows down and Bruce Springsteen blasting out into the summer night.
No, it’s not cliché. It is quintessence, and I was in heaven.
And so, my thoughts remain with the millions touched by Sandy, from annoying inconvenient interruptions to daily routines to the displaced, injured, dead and mourning.
I encourage everyone who might read this to consider a donation to the Red Cross, no matter how small. Every little bit helps.