After a Storm

Twice lucky. Aside from localized power outages, Vermont was spared Sandy's wrath. And thank goodness – there's no graceful way we might have taken a second hit. And when Irene came raging through a year ago, our home was left entirely unscathed, physically. Psychologically, not so much. It simply isn't possible to witness nature's full fury and not be deeply unsettled, to be reminded that (like that wicked witch) you have no power here.

But to then see your surroundings turned into a kaleidescope of unimaginable wreckage, to see entire towns swept away, friends' homes destroyed, bridges and miles of road washed away in a churning torrent – leaves behind a kind of warzone trauma. And it's hard to get a grip on because you haven't really lost anything. You start to feel like one of those idiot drama queens.

My solution was to tear myself away from the endless loop of recycled terror on my computer screen and to go out and help wherever I could. In the immediate aftermath, TJ and I went and helped neighbors tear out their sodden flooring and carpeting and move their remaining belongings to safety. I joined up with girlfriends to deliver a few truckloads of relief supplies to be ferried into a town completely cut off by the storm. On our way home, we stopped at a farm that had just watched their entire growing field sucked downstream; they still had their barn and their garlic harvest, which needed to be cleaned and packaged for an upcoming festival. So we spent a few hours prepping garlic, quietly chatting while the methodical trimming, batching, and bagging started to reset some internal rhythm. On another day, we helped at a little village market – a town hub – that had been badly flooded. We scrubbed and disinfected shelving and stacked it in the sun to dry. And then we raked and shoveled and righted their back yard, so the owners' kids would have a sane and ordered place to play.

I'm recounting all this, not because I think it makes me special or heroic, but because it's what made me start to feel 'normal' again. Connecting with neighbors and strangers alike, giving what I could where someone else needed it. It's basic humanity. And I'd implore anyone feeling stunned and overwhelmed in Sandy's wake: if you have the time and the ability, hand it out as freely as you can.

To those who've seen their homes or livelihoods damaged or destroyed, there is precious little I can say without feeling and sounding deeply insincere, having never suffered catastrophic loss myself. I can only offer this, gleaned from observation: it may be hard to ask for or accept assistance, but do. There's plenty out there. And it's the give and take that starts to put the world right again.

Comments

[Joel Baumwoll]

GG, I love your "After a storm" post. For me, giving money is the main way I choose to "pitch in." Though, if neighbors needed my body, I would be there. I'm just not up to driving 3 hours to a "war zone" to look for ways to help.

XO
Joel