I always worry about people who live in the paths of storms, earthquakes, and other natural disasters. Having lived through quite a few large earthquakes in Los Angeles, I can definitely sympathize. But Hurricane Sandy’s arrival 3,000 miles away on the eastern seaboard is having a bigger impact than usual. Why? Because I was on one of the last planes out of Boston on Sunday night – just as the wind and rain were really starting to pick up steam.
I look at the pictures of the crashing waves in places I just visited - like York Harbor, ME, Rockport, MA, and Cape Cod – and think, “These can’t be the same locations I just strolled through, marveling at the sunny skies and crisp weather!” I can’t believe that the news photos showing flooded streets and boarded up windows are where I just snapped pictures of trees bursting with red, pink and yellow leaves, and sunrises glowing purple and pink on placid water.
I worry about the kind and lovely people I met and chatted with on my recent trip - those who are in the path of what is predicted to be unprecedented destruction, with their homes, livelihoods, and even their lives at risk. Those who have nowhere to go, except maybe an evacuation shelter. I worry about the people who’ll return to find mud-filled stores, homes and restaurants; smashed windows, and torn-away roofs; downed trees and electrical wires; or just a pile of debris instead of the place they called home.
My thoughts are definitely with everyone in reach of this epic storm. My hope is that you are someplace warm and safe and dry; that your electricity stays on throughout; and that whatever the damage you have to deal with afterwards is minimal, and easily fixed.