Oh, Sandy.

I live in a little hamlet in Brooklyn called Red Hook. I don't really know the reason why it's called that, probably because 100 years ago a sailor with a giant red hook-hand lived there, I don't know. For all intents and purposes it is just a name (though a good one at that). It is a small, isolated part of Brooklyn right at the mouth of the East River, with spectacular views of Lower Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty. There is no train that runs to Red Hook, for reasons I didn't fully understand until now. but that's ok because a lack of transportation has made for a vibrant and tight-knit community of artists and artisans, killer restaurants and tremendous dive bars. I have been fortunate enough to call Red Hook my home for the past year.

When the news of the impending Hurricane Sandy came to us, I generally wasn't that worried. Yes, Red Hook is a neighborhood below sea level and, yes, Red Hook is an area that tends to flood if enough rain falls, but Red Hook had also weathered Hurricane Irene without too much damage (though I wasn't here to experience it) so most people weren't worried. When the severity of the coming hurricane was reported, my roommate and I, despite living on the border of evacuation zones A and B, decided that our apartment was far away enough from the water (a solid 5 minute walk) that we'd be fine and that there was no need to leave. Even when Bloomberg announced mandatory evacuations for all of Zone A, most people we knew in Red Hook decided to stay and weather the storm close in and around the neighborhood.

We had no idea what we were in for.

Because you can't prepare for a 14 foot wall of water. You just can't.

Most places were braced for flooding (again, we are below sea level so it isn't unprecedented). Absolutely no one was braced for 8 feet of flooding. And what Kyla and I were the most unprepared for was that the water would come all the way up to our street and, by some extreme stroke of luck, stop there as it filled all the homes and businesses behind it with icy, cold, briny water. We got extremely lucky but there was an hour where I was pretty terrified. I'm glad I ended up staying, especially in the aftermath with the transportation debacle, but there was a chunk of time where I (and my mother) wished I had made a different choice.*

What happened to Red Hook (and other parts of New York City and the outer boroughs) was astounding and awesome in the truest sense of the word. What happened to this beloved city I call home is beyond the scope of what I have the ability to really conceptualize at this moment. What happened to surrounding states, especially New Jersey, completely boggles the mind and hurts the heart. But what is really incredible to me has been the response.

Oh, the response.

Because, while Red Hook has been somewhat overlooked in the post-storm media coverage, that hasn't stopped the clean up effort. The amount of clean up to be done in Red Hook is immense. Most businesses won't be back up and running for a month at least. The lucky ones will be closed for at least a week or two as they reset. Many, many, many people lost almost indescribable amounts of personal property. It is overwhelming.

And in the wake of all of this, with no power and no heat and no hot water and everyone hurting, in the days since the hurricane (or Superstorm, should I say), most people in this isolated hamlet in Brooklyn have laced up their boots and rolled up their sleeves and turned to their neighbors and said, "You are hurting and so am I, but please let me help you so we can heal our neighborhood together."  It has been astounding, the way people in the neighborhood have responded to the relief effort. Every day, people are walking down Van Brunt Street, looking what's really needed, whether that's a hand emptying out a basement or carrying bags or offering a place to charge a cell phone, all without question or hesitation or want/desire for reciprocation. People from other neighborhoods in Brooklyn and Manhattan, people who do business in Red Hook, and people have never been down there are showing up and stepping up, with helping hands and bottles of water and up-beat spirits and a desire to help. Being able to look around me and see people I've never met and people who are fixtures in the neighborhood working together (in, it should be mentioned, physically exhausting, gross work situations) is the most comforting thing of all. It makes me believe in Red Hook and its future.

The days ahead for many neighborhoods in New York and dozens of towns in New Jersey are going to be long and grim and exhausting. Entire lives and ecosystems have been altered by this one storm. But in other ways, in other deeply important ways, this storm has shown us on the East Coast who we really are and where we really live. And I've got to say, I'm liking what I see.**

*It should be mentioned that our apartment building sustained no water damage, nor did our apartment sustain any damage from the Superstorm. We have been without power since Monday night and don't expect to gain power back until next Friday at the earliest. While this is inconvenient, my roommates and I know we got incredibly lucky. We are all very appreciative of the work that the FDNY and NYPD are doing to help smooth things along, as well as ConEd and National Grid. The work these guys do is absolutely thankless and essential and I, for one, feel a little bad for being so cranky when they are doing the best they can. Keep up the good work, guys.

It also is important to mention that my roommates and I have found ourselves, since the storm hit, constantly surrounded by the kindest, most caring people in the entire world who have offered hot showers and cell phone charging and hot meals without asking for anything in return. These people are true heros and angels in this uncomfortable, inconvenient time and are making the whole thing bearable. Thanks to them can not be said enough. You guys are the best.

**If you are looking for was to help out, check out the Red Hook Initiative's website and twitter for updates about volunteering with clean up. You can also follow @XCountry4Sandy to donate to the cause as some friends of ours travel across the country back to Red Hook.

Today I laughed Until I Cried.

At a video of an MIT professor drawing lines on a chalkboard.  My GOD do I wish I was kidding.  Alas, I am not.  It appears I have cabin fever and it is going to my head.  My bedroom in Brooklyn lacks a window, which usually wouldn't be a problem but when you spend the majority of your time at home, the walls start to close in and everything begins to get very...intense.  Sounds become louder, lights become brighter, and silliness becomes even sillier.  Normally I would combat this with some good ol' fashioned walking around, but it is pouring outside so my options are limited.  Until the rains let up I'm confined to the house, looking at pictures from my walk a few days ago and dreamin' of clear skies.

Seriously though, how crazy is this view? This is two blocks from my apartment. Magical.

An Ashleigh Grows in Brooklyn

view of the sunset from Ikea

 It’s official.  After 2 and a half years of waiting and longing and bitching and moaning I, Ashleigh Hill, am a New Yorker once more.  Or should I say a Brooklynite? Or a Red Hookian?  No matter how you slice it, I am back and ready for adventure.  Truthfully, Saturday was a scary day.  A month ago when I decided to move back to New York my mom decided that it was something I had to do alone; for the first time in my life, she wouldn’t be there when I moved.  I didn’t realize just how fucking big of a deal this was until Saturday morning, as I drove around Brooklyn with a lost cab driver, Googling directions to the apartment and praying to see a glimpse of something familiar.  It was scary as hell, having no idea what I was walking into, that fear that grabs your insides and makes you stop in your tracks.  As I stared at my stark room at 8 am Saturday morning, running on probably 2 hours of sleep, all I could think was, “WHAT HAVE I DONE?!!? I CANT DO THIS!”  I stood there for probably 5 minutes, just looking around the room and mumbling, “oh shit oh shit oh shit” under my breath.  Some tiny part of my brain, thankfully, had planned for this exact situation in the days before moving.  As soon as my bed and bedding was delivered a few days ahead of my arrival I began to run through my plan for settling in.  Item #1 was to make my bed so I could crawl into it and sleep.  In the midst of my freak out, that tiny pre-planning part of my brain started shouting, “ASHLEIGH: make. the. bed. MAKE. THE. BED.”  Pretty soon my “oh shit” chorus became a round, melding with “make the bed” and before I knew it, the bed was made, I had retrieved pjs from my enormous suitcase and was in bed.

Top: Dean and Kyle, Bottom: sights of Ikea

I woke up a few hours later with a plan.  I had spent the winding down to sleep time planning what I wanted to do with my room.  I made a list in my head.  I went over it as I slept.  When I woke up I wrote the list in my phone and set about preparing for my darlings, Dean and Kyle, to arrive for lunch and an Ikea trip.  There is no need to go into a ton of detail about this part of the day as most of it consisted of browsing the Ikea show room and laughing until my sides nearly split but needless to say we found 90% of the things on my list and brought them back to my apartment.  Here is what I will say about Dean and Kyle: these are they people you want as friends—the people who will haul their asses on a bus out to Brooklyn and spend 3 hours in Ikea with you, planning and mentally decorating your room and THEN return and set everything up.  These are the guys, the ones who stay until it is done.  The ones who, even though they are clearly tired, carefully move through the set up to make sure that everything is done correctly.  The ones who, after all is said and done, still want to go out and celebrate and don’t even get mad when you get everyone lost walking to the train.  These are the guys you want to have with you.  I am BEYOND grateful to them for all they did today (and to my new roommate, Kyla, as well, who has kept me sane the past week by working around weird mattress delivery schedules and giving me huge pieces of furniture).  I know that without these three I would have spent most of the day in my room, crying over a seemingly terrible decision.  These three, with their confidence and their caring, gave me the strength to be brave on a day when I missed my mom and dad more than anything.  And it is because of these three that I know that everything is going to be ok.  Because I know I have people in my corner, even if I’m not 100% sure where that corner is or what bus I need to take to get there.  And knowing this is half the battle.  Looking back on today, the best thing I did was to make a plan and then set out to execute it, detail by detail.  And the absolute best thing I did was chose to surround myself with people who wanted to help make that possible.

Things that are difficult might not always be fun, but they certainly help us learn in a way that nothing else can.  And sometimes these are the experiences we need, the ones that make us take a step back and make a detailed list, the ones that make us feel hyper aware, the ones that force us to take a risk.