This blog post is written
By TERESA M. PELHAM, tpelham@comcast.net
Teresa came with us to volunteer in Brooklyn after Superstorm Sandy.
www.familytc.com
www.facebook.com/FamilyTravelConcierge
Despite my exhaustion and serious need for a bath, I returned home
from Brooklyn this past weekend insisting that my boys listen to my
stories and look at my pictures. I couldn't quite decide which message I
was trying to get across to them: Be thankful? Question authority? Take
care of your neighbors?
With other volunteers, I went to the pile of sand and debris that once was New York's Coney Island, Sea Gate and Sheepshead Bay. You can look at pictures and watch news coverage of the mess caused by Superstorm Sandy,
but you will never grasp the devastation that these families are
dealing with. I will do my best to put what I witnessed into words, in
the hope that you'll appreciate your safe, healthy families and your
intact homes as much as I do now.
We worked with one of the
grass-roots groups formed when it became clear that nobody else was
going to help. I'm not declaring the Red Cross
a failure in this disaster. But what I do know is that in the areas we
visited, the Red Cross had only appeared with aid the day before. As in,
almost two weeks after the storm had hit.
Our group of five was
assigned to visit a handful of apartments in a high-rise near Coney
Island. We entered a sand-filled, dark lobby that probably doesn't look
much better in good times. We turned on our flashlights and filed up the
pitch-black, smelly staircase. The residents of this building who were
still there had nowhere else to go or couldn't physically make it down a
dark, wet (not from water) stairwell.
We unloaded our backpacks of toilet paper, adult diapers, water,
blankets, food and flashlights to the obviously weary residents. We took
down information, such as which residents were running out of their high blood pressure medicine or insulin.
We took notes while we were up there, paying attention to which apartments had barking dogs
and no people. Was someone really coming by to visit those dogs?
Walking down and up and back down 12 flights of stairs to let those dogs
out?
It would make sense to be able to get those pets out and
keep them safe while their owners were away (or were their owners still
alive?) but we had no master key. No superintendent or property manager
was anywhere to be found.
Back on the street, a truck rolled down
the street, past the mud-covered and mud-filled cars that hadn't moved
in almost two weeks. People appeared out of nowhere, grabbing for the
bags these volunteers were handing out. A National Guard dude tried to
hand me a bag from the Red Cross, containing a blanket, hand warmers and
a flashlight. "No, I don't need it. I'm going back up there," I said,
pointing to the high-rise. "Then take it up there," he said, handing it
to me.
I watched as a man caught up to the truck too late, and all
the bags were gone. This man just needed one good thing to happen, but
he walked away, dejected.
"Buddy!" I yelled, running after him. "Take this."
If
he had any energy left he probably would have picked me up and spun me
around, but instead smiled and said "Thank you. Bless you."
We
still had donations that we'd collected in Connecticut, so we drove to
the Sea Gate community, which was especially hard-hit by the storm.
Every
house is now seriously damaged or is just gone. Sand, garbage,
furniture, clothing and family memories are piled in front of houses
through which you can now see. Nearly two weeks after the storm,
shell-shocked homeowners shovel sand and try to figure out what to do
next.
At the center of this broken neighborhood stands its
"chapel," which serves as a community center for this gated community.
Residents —- along with friends and family —- took matters into their
own hands and cooked meals over gas grills while their hungry, unwashed
neighbors stood in line to receive the same necessities we'd just
delivered to those who could not leave.
Nobody was really in
charge, they told us. But it was clear that those who could help did as
much as they could to get things done. It was an organized, effective
system to which we were happy to donate our supplies.
As I've told
these stories the one thing I keep emphasizing is that even though
everything sucked and that the organizations that were supposed to help
seemed to have forgotten about some areas, people came together to help
each other.
Life, strangely enough, goes on. Just a few miles
away, people are going to the movies and running their washing machines
and restocking their refrigerators. But for the people whose homes were
invaded by water and sand and sewage, their lives will not be the same,
ever. Where do they even start? I guess they start with each other. They
start with us, helping them take those first steps back to normalcy.
We've taught our children to take care of others. Now is the time. Visit
http://www.nycservice.org or http://interoccupy.net/occupysandy/.
Teresa
M. Pelham is co-blogger for the Courant's "Mommy Minute" parenting
blog. A freelance writer based in Farmington, Teresa recently published a
children's book entitled "Roxy's Forever Home," with proceeds
benefiting dog rescue. Go to http://www.roxysforeverhome.com for more information.
