Saturday, November 17, 2012

Hurricane Sandy, the Aftermath

I've been thinking a lot about this.  When Hurricane Sandy was approaching and we didn't know where she was going to hit, there was a lot of nervous joking.  A lot of references to "Deathicane Sandy" and "Hurricane Sandybags" (referring to the sandbags we hauled home and stacked out back).  You know the kind of joking--borne of "oh, hell, we don't have flood insurance" and "what if the power goes out for weeks?" fears. 

Call it "whistling past the graveyard."

We did not take the brunt of Sandy's rage.  We were spared.  New Jersey?  New York?  Not so lucky.  In fact, they got whomped in a devastating way.  Including, I'm sure, the little dog-friendly beach we visited last June with Charlie.  His first (and thus far only) time at the ocean. 

I feel terribly for the folks who were hit so very hard.  And I feel like I need to explain the Sandy jokes.  They weren't borne of callousness or a desire to get a giggle at the expense of others.  No, it was just nervousness and a need to try to lighten things up and allay our fears in the face of something scary.

If it ever came across as anything but that, please accept my deepest apologies. 

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