There was no Calm Before the Storm

As news and personal accounts of the impact and aftermath of Hurricane Sandy continues to come in, I find myself feeling awkward. It’s a feeling that can best be explained with the example of a person who narrowly escapes injury or death and walks out of a situation that others were unable to avoid. Please understand, in no way are my feeling equivalent to such a plight, it is however, the best way I can describe it. You see, I am a product of Far Rockaway, Queens. I know the beauty of the beaches, I rode my bicycle up and down the boardwalk as a kid. I rode the A train, the Q 22, the dollar van, and used the Q footy footy to get around town and out of town (although, we didn’t leave Far Rockaway much back then…everything we needed was there—at least we thought so). I went to P.S. 105 back when it was known as “The Bay School”, traveled to the opposite end of the town to attend P.S. 114 in Belle Harbor and junior high school 180 in Rockaway Beach, and made a u-turn to attend Far Rockaway high school smack dab in the middle of Far Rockaway, NY. I lived in public housing in what some considered one of the worst housing projects in the New York City—Edgemere Houses. Some years back, the name was changed to Ocean Bay Houses, but it will always be Edgemere to me.
When I think of growing up there, I remember a sense of community. The tenant patrol was the watch group of concerned citizens who wanted to keep the neighborhood safe. As a teen ager, I thought they were a bunch of nosey old people. Now I know better. I recall having friends who lived on nearly every floor in my building. They were like family. There was no need to go out of the building to meet people, but we did. We walked up and down the blocks to see our friends from other buildings too. We all knew each other and could spot an outsider in a heartbeat. We played hop scotch with a piece of broken glass or a rock. We played skelly with candle wax or gum pressed into a milk top. We played hand ball on the wall underneath the buildings. We played “Red light, green light” and “Mother may I?” We played tag, red rover, kick the can, spin the bottle…oh I could go on forever!
There was however, an ugly side to life there. Gun violence claimed the lives of friends and acquaintances on a regular basis. People went to Rikers Island jail so often that it became a rites of passage for many young boys. It was not uncommon to answer the public telephone on the corner of 54th Street and talk with someone incarcerated who used the telephone number of the pay phone as a life line to the community. Poverty ran rampant in my old neighborhood. So much so, we didn’t even realize that we were poor. Making the most of what you had was normal. Sharing a cup of sugar, two eggs, or $5 until next week, was a regular thing. We looked out for each other. We knew how to handle adversity because it was an everyday thing.

For as long as I can remember, there was always talk of the bay and the ocean meeting and causing devastation. I’d heard it so often that it didn’t scare me at all. But then again, neither did the gun violence, robberies, drug dealing, or regular police activity. It was all a part of life in my neighborhood.
As the years passed, I was exposed to life outside of my neighborhood. The experiences opened my eyes to a brighter future and I stepped into the light. I got out before the storm. Lots of people did. However, there are those who didn’t see it coming. They were unprepared or under-prepared. They were blinded by the winds of reality. Some fell victim to low expectations and statistics. Some were overcome by a sense of hopelessness. Some made a conscious decision to stay. The awkward feeling comes in when I realize that many are in complete darkness trying to find their way, and struggling to survive the chaos, while I am doing just fine. You see, the trouble didn’t begin when the bay met the ocean; there has always been a black cloud over my old neighborhood. We just didn’t notice it, because it was always there. When you’ve lived in a tumultuous environment for your entire life, you’d never imagine that a little storm could be a problem.

I am certain that those remaining in my old neck of the woods will come out of this bruised and battered…but better. They’ve always had the skills to overcome adversity…we learned them through our lives filled with challenge and struggle. It is my hope that this experience has changed the definition of “normal”. The notion of the bay and ocean meeting is no longer just an old wives tale. It’s a reality. Hopefully, people will begin to rebuild not only their homes, but their lives. There is light just beyond the darkness, but leaving the familiar is a personal choice. Those who choose to stay must prepare for the storm while there is calm because one thing we know now is, it’s coming.