Having weathered many devastating storms in the Virgin  Islands, it was very different doing so in New York City. It’s weird.  Where I was, in upper Manhattan, it felt like a minor storm.  But we are on a hill  I have not gone out yet this morning, but late last night, we went down to Inwood Hill Park and could see where the river and tide pool had intruded on our neighborhood.  Water glistening in the lights from Riverdale across the “creek”  made it obvious there was river where there shouldn’t be.

 The building where we hunkered down expecting the worst turned out to be a bunker.  You could not hear even the strongest winds outside our windows, so it was bizarre to be watching on television the devastation just a few miles away – seeing lower Manhattan go dark – while feeling completely detached from it; like we were in another country. Then, the sky lit up – once red, then bright orange, then an eerie blue. We may never know exactly what happened; transformers somewhere. We held our breath. Our power stayed on.

In the islands, with the wind, it’s inside your home and head.  After going through Hurricane Marilyn in 1995, the wind here seemed insignificant. It wasn't. The 80 m.p.h. winds had their way with power lines and in one case the facade of a downtown building. But it was the sea that ruled in Sandy. We don’t experience flooding in this way on our islands and I’ve always been aware how lucky we are in that. 

We also don’t have public transportation below sea level.

I feel privileged to be able to observe and participate first hand in how the people of this huge community come together to clean up their city and restore their lives to some normalcy. As I write, I do hear the familiar sound of leaf blowers out my window.

It will be interesting to observe the clean-up – to see how or if Mother Nature cooperates with thousands of workers to get the greatest city on earth back up to speed.

As of late last night, I heard not one whine from the people wading in thigh deep water outside their inundated homes. That's a beginning.