Searching for Normal

    

    

    Last Friday, all NYC public school staff was called into work, and while it would take some effort to get to my Brooklyn school, I was really eager to go. Like many New Yorkers I was ready for some normalcy.       
     Since public transportation was still crippled, I decided the best way to commute was to ride my bicycle the 15 miles from home to school.  I've enjoyed this cycle commute before, but this time I was looking forward to seeing more of the city firsthand post-Sandy.  For days, I'd only ventured a couple of square miles between Harlem and Washington Heights.  I was anxious to view what I'd only seen on the news and on Facebook status updates.
     The morning was crisp and clear, and the cold air seemed to expand and cleanse my lungs. After days of being inside, it felt freeing to zoom along on the bike.  I cycled through my quiet, fully-powered neighborhood.  With the exception of a few smashed cars under felled trees, it looked like a regular Friday morning in Harlem.    I breathed silent relief when I saw Prophet, my old homeless friend, sitting in his normal spot.  I didn't wave, but I was thankful he had weathered the storm.      
     When I reached the northwest edge of Central Park, yellow police tape and metal barriers blocked the corner entrance.  I hadn't known the park was closed, but having seen the damage done by fallen tree limbs, it made sense. I continued riding south, skirting the park along Central Park West and enjoying an easy ride to Columbus Circle.
     The circle offered first signs of mid-town congestion.  Streets were closed, so I threaded my way through the 59th Street parking lot with other two-wheelers.  Energy was more frenetic, but not impatient.  Everyone seemed to accept that any trip, no matter how short, would take a while today.  Pedestrians were out in full force.  The city was alive and moving even if the traffic was at a stand-still.
     I made my way over to the east side's 2nd Avenue and started down to the Manhattan Bridge.  Second Avenue was a freeway of heavy traffic moving at breakneck speed.  I braced myself as I merged into the densely-populated bicycle lane.  Many who are not normally urban cyclists were braving the roads.  I vacillated between silently cheering and cursing them.   

     As we rushed downtown, traffic peeled off, moving east and west, and when I hit 42nd Street, suddenly things felt eerie.  I found myself alone again and soon realized the reason - no power, no traffic lights.  Traffic cops stood at every intersection, waving traffic through.  The Queens Midtown Tunnel, normally a log jam at this time of day, was desolate. The unearthly quiet lasted almost all the way to the base of the Manhattan Bridge.  Surprisingly, as I rounded the on ramp, the energy of the city shifted again, and I was greeted by a throng of happy cyclists.  

      "Free coffee!  Free donuts!  Free air!" someone sang out.  I couldn't help but smile.  Transportation Alternatives was out there, greeting and assisting cyclists.  I stopped for a minute to chat with one of the volunteers and say thanks.  I liked being part of this club, and what a packed club it was on the bridge.  The bicycle traffic was heavy coming into Manhattan - I was one of the few going out to Brooklyn - and I couldn't stop smiling at my people as they whooshed past.  I kept thinking about the resilience of our city, or our ability to adapt and evolve.  Amazing.   

     As I rode through downtown Brooklyn, I passed a line of commuters waiting for shuttle buses... a line with at least a few thousand people over four blocks long.  I could have kissed my bike then and there.  Downtown was bustling.  Again, lots of people out and about, enjoying the freedom from enclosed spaces.  
     Park Slope, Brooklyn looked no worse for wear than Harlem with its few downed trees. Some neighborhoods were lightly touched while others were decimated.  We had been so fortunate while others had not.
     I arrived at school and the stories began. The first question was always, "How are you?  How is your family?" We huddled in groups and listened to tales of horrible devastation.  My hand kept moving to my wide-open, disbelieving mouth.  "No," I found myself repeating. "Oh, no."  Colleagues whose families' houses had been leveled, living without power or heat, volunteering time and energy, gathering resources for others... the stories kept coming.  The stories overwhelmed me.  Even with all of the news I'd listened to on the radio, read in emails and had seen on TV and the Internet, it hadn't felt as real as this.


       The work day wasn't terribly valuable, but the coming together was. 
     As I got back on my bicycle to return home, my mind was chock full of mixed messages and mixed feelings.  I rode through different neighborhoods on my way back, and everywhere I looked, I saw our city struggling desperately to rebound, rise up, and reject the idea that we'd been knocked down and possibly out. We're New Yorkers!  That's impossible!  
     It's still difficult to put it all into words. My mind keeps bringing me back to an image of a fighter, bruised and bloodied, his eyes and mouth swollen and deformed.  He's struggling to get up off the mat, trying to convince his coach and the ref that he's still in, he's still able to fight, but he can't quite focus.  He's seeing double. I think that's part of why the NYC Marathon was still scheduled to run today. Our city really wanted to believe we could do it.  But there's something in coach's eyes that says, "Stay down."  We need to prove we are all right, and we will be, but not yet. Right now we need to heal.  And slowly as neighborhoods catch a glint of normalcy, we need to reach out to other neighborhoods and people who are still struggling. 
     Many of my NY and NJ neighbors are still waiting for normal... and will be waiting for a long, long time. 
     On Friday, we got the news that the NYC Marathon was cancelled.  But the real marathon is still on; it's this region's recovery.  
     So many friends across the world have reached out to ask how we are doing.  I can't tell you what it's meant to feel such an outpouring of love and concern.  As I've said, we have been incredibly lucky while others haven't.  Here are some ways you can help in the marathon effort to rebuild and restore:

1. CROWDRISE - Fundraising set up by the New York Road Runners and the NYC Marathon.
2. RECOVERS.ORG - Helping to coordinate goods and volunteers for the places most in need.
3. HABITAT FOR HUMANITY - Long-term rebuilding.
4. COMMUNITY FOODBANK OF NEW JERSEY 
5. NEW YORK CARES - "the city's largest volunteer organization, running volunteer programs for 1,300 nonprofits, city agencies and public schools."
6. HUMANE SOCIETY OF THE UNITED STATES and AMERICAN HUMANE SOCIETY- Help with pet rescue and care.
7. AMERICAN RED CROSS - Donate blood, goods, or funds.

I heart New York.