Luck vs. Logic
The weekend before Hurricane Sandy hit, I visited Halim at the neighborhood cafe. He didn’t seem too worried about the impending storm. (Now we see that our neighborhood was largely unaffected—and we are thankful!) \
I do remember that he told Daisy and I this story, which I enjoyed. The details may be fuzzy but the overall concept is accurate:
There are two brothers, Luck and Logic, who are on a journey and suddenly become stranded. They have no way to call for help. They have to simply wait for someone to come along and rescue them.
Luck decides to lie down in the middle of the street, hoping that he will catch the attention of someone coming by.
“Are you crazy?” Logic asks. “You are going to get hit!”
Logic decides to wait underneath a tree at the side of the road, because he reasons that this is a much safer place to be.
Eventually a car does come by, and what happens? The car sees Luck lying in the middle of the street, and swerves to avoid hitting him—only to swerve right into the tree that Logic is standing under.
So, the point of the story… you may be better off depending on Luck rather than Logic.
After arriving at Brighton Beach, our busload of 75 volunteers was soon joined by 3 additional groups, putting us at a total of about 300 people. We were assisting the NYC Parks Department with beach cleanup, which consisted of 3 main tasks:
- Canvassing the beach with large trash bags, removing any litter/debris/trash/tree branches that were swept onto the beach from Hurricane Sandy
- Using 16” brooms to sweep sand off of the boardwalk (since the ocean had pushed sand far past the boardwalk and even into the streets)
- Using shovels to shovel the sand on the boardwalk into piles—which would then be wheelbarrowed back onto the beach by the National Guard.
As I picked up trash and debris from the beach, I came across items like: bottle caps, plastic bags entrenched in the sand, candy and food wrappers, a broken Corona bottle, plastic parts of ballpoint pens, an intact pencil, plastic tampon applicators, pieces of a wooden fence, a broom handle, plastic bottles, pieces of a wooden staircase banister, plastic utensils, and drinking straws. My co-volunteer, Nicole, found a children’s slap bracelet with peace symbols on it, and placed it on her own wrist.
I made a mental note to stop using plastic whenever possible.
Nicole discovered a yellow and white sail that was buried in the sand, near the shoreline. I offered to help her dig it up. We got a couple of shovels, but soon found that shoveling tightly packed wet sand was tougher than we thought. We tried to pull the sail up, out of the sand, but it was stuck… buried who-knew how deep. The sail was also folded upon itself in various places, and when we tried to rip it apart, we discovered that it was filled with shells, sand, and other debris. It was a slow process to unearth it, but we were determined to do so, even when we saw the tide coming in closer and closer to us. After alternating between shoveling sand off of it, ripping the sail to expose the sand and shells packed inside, and using our hands to scoop the sand and shells out of various pockets, we managed to free the entire sail. I enjoyed how this was a project for us and that it was a tangible outcome, no matter how small. This sail would not be littering Brighton Beach anymore. Success!
Sweeping sand from the boardwalk, as well as shoveling sand into piles on the boardwalk, were less memorable experiences. There’s just one thing of note. Somehow, the broom I chose was defective and the head kept separating from the handle. I later learned that this happened to a lot of people. Can’t the Parks Department afford better brooms? As I struggled for the second time to re-attach the head to the handle, an elderly Russian couple approached me. The man reached out and said, “I know what to do.” I held the head of the broom steady while he twisted the handle into it, then watched as he turned the broom upside down and smashed it into the boardwalk a few times, securing the two pieces together. He handed it back to me with a smile, and I thanked him. A few minutes later, though, the broom became detached again. At that point, I switched my task to shoveling instead, which was much more productive.
While I felt like we made some good progress, there is still so much to be done. Cleaning up the beach was fine, and I know it has to be done. But I think that in my next attempt to help out in the field, I will try to find an opportunity where I am more directly helping people. There are still people in some areas without electricity, running water, or access to food and drinking water. They need our help more than the beaches do.
My plan of leaving work early to go vote never panned out, and was further complicated by train delays on our fine subway system.
Instead, I decided to go vote after my class at the gym, which ended at 8:20. NYC polls closed at 9pm. I thought, foolishly, that a half-hour would be plenty of time. Surely most people already voted before work or else right after work… right?
Turns out that no matter what time you went to the polls, you would experience a long line. When I reached the local school, I saw a line of people extending down the block. Luckily, the line moved pretty quickly, and we all marched single file through the school’s entrance. When I got inside, though, I realized that the line doubled back on itself and there were more than 50 people waiting in the hallway. Everyone was grumbling. A few people commented that this was their second or third time coming here today, since they gave up the first few times due to the long lines.
We inched slowly forward in the line. When we reached what I thought was the beginning of the line, I then found out that the line continued down the staircase to the basement level. The basement level had 2 lines of people, 1 for “District 8” (which sounded like something out of a Hunger Games novel) and 1 for everyone else. We were all simply waiting for our chance to even enter the room that contained the sign-in, voting booths, and scanners. Tensions began to rise as the clock ticked closer to 9:00. “This is a disgrace,” one heavily-accented Eastern European man commented.
A frustrated man on the District 8 line started getting rowdy. He confronted one of the poll workers about why their line was not moving. The one on-duty police officer at this poll site had to step in and calm the man down, saying that as long as he was inside the building, he would get to vote—even if it was after 9:00. “When?” the man kept demanding. “When?”
Finally, I made it inside the room, only to be told that I had to wait in another line for my district—District 21. This line was about 10 people. As I waited in the slow, non-moving line, I witnessed a fight almost break out in the line for District 19. This time it was between two white males in their late 20s/early 30s, both wearing plastic framed eyeglasses. The police officer had to step in again. Somehow it took another half-hour for me to get to the front of the line and finally sign in. I noticed that the poll workers just handed me my ballot and a card without the explanations they lavished on other people. Either 1) they assumed I was smart enough to know what I had to do, or 2) they didn’t really care about making sure I knew what to do.
I noticed that the ballot said to only use “the black pen provided” but no one had given me a pen, and there wasn’t one in the voting booth. I moved to a different voting booth and saw a pen attached to the booth with a metal cord, so I began to use it… only to find out that it had blue ink. WTF. I then pulled out a black pen I had the foresight to bring on my own, hoping that any black pen would work and we weren’t meant to use some special ink pen.
When finished, I was immediately sent over to one of the scanning stations and submitted my ballot. I saw the screen saying that my ballot had been counted. This whole process (from sign-in to scanning station) took less than 5 minutes.
I finally left the polling site at 9:40. What an ordeal.
Hurricane Sandy Relief donations: bottled water, canned food, batteries, and winter hats. Not pictured: A hand-knit scarf that my ex boyfriend’s mother gave me six years ago. I would feel strange wearing it now… and to be honest, it was never really my color (it was multicolor but the overall palette was a hot pink). I hope that it is keeping someone else warm tonight, especially if they still lack electricity and heat.
Our group of 8 was dispatched (along with a few other groups) to the Lillian Wald Houses this afternoon to knock on doors, check on people who were possibly without power, and supply bottled water and packaged food to those in need. We received some direction (and 1 bag of supplies for every 2 volunteers) from GOLES but quickly realized that we were on our own in terms of organizing and making a plan as to how to tackle our assignment.
Doubtful that 4 bags of supplies would be enough to cover a 10+ story building, we stopped at a local bodega on Avenue C. There, a few of us bought 3 six-packs of bottled water, some additional snacks, and 4 large crates of gallon-sized bottled water. We borrowed a rolling dolly from the store owner to transport the crates, promising to return it within a couple of hours.
The Lillian Wald Houses included 16 high rise buildings between Avenue D and FDR. I had never been past Avenue C before, and I had also never visited NYCHA housing before, so this was an eye-opening experience.
We chose a building and then split up: 4 of us would cover the even-numbered floors, and the other 4 would cover odd-numbered floors. On each floor, our group of 4 split up into groups of 2, who went knocking on doors on either side of the elevator bank. Radha and I went as a pair. He would knock on the door, and I would say, “Hello, we’re just seeing if you need any food or water?” I thought it was important to do this along with simply knocking, so that people knew we were coming to help. I imagine that they wouldn’t normally open their doors to strangers.
We were also told to always knock on doors in groups of 2, and I think having a girl + guy as a pair made sense so that we didn’t intimidate people. Radha remarked that we had a good technique because I had a nice, friendly voice. I think it helped that I didn’t look very intimidating either. Many people didn’t answer: either they were out, perhaps obtaining food now that power had returned to the LES, or they didn’t want to open their door to strangers. In the first building we went to, power was restored as of this morning. In the second building we went to, the elevators were not working, so we walked up the stairs to the 10th floor. The stairwells were dark, somewhat dirty, and smelled like urine.
Here are a few highlights of our experience:
- Everyone we met was very appreciative of us coming by. I was surprised that many people said they were fine and doing okay, and they didn’t need anything, even when we literally had free handouts right in front of them. It was so refreshing to see people who would refuse a free handout (and know that it would be going to someone else who really needed it).
- There were a few people who didn’t speak English, so I used my basic Spanish to communicate with them, saying “Necessita agua o comida? Necessita ayuda?” but then they usually had another family member come to the door who spoke English. One of my teammates used her Mandarin language skills to communicate with someone. I then realized that my Cantonese skills were pretty horrible because all I could really say in Chinese was, “Water?” and then feel bad about myself.
- One elderly woman took the 2 bottles of water we gave her, along with a can of beans, but got very excited about the canned pineapple. It seemed like fruit was a big draw; one person even asked us if we had any fruit and we had to say no.
- There were a few people we met who seemed a bit out of it, and I am not sure if they had mental disabilities. They seemed especially appreciative of the water and food. One man kept saying, “It’s okay” to the following questions: “How are you? Do you need any food or water? Did you lose power today?” but I think perhaps he didn’t speak English and those were the only English words he knew.
- One woman was very excited to get a gallon of water and said, “This is great! This is the best thing ever! What organization are you from?” and said she would look us up next time for a donation. That was pretty heartening.
- One of my team members really helped someone who was legally blind and needed a prescription refilled urgently but wasn’t able to go to the pharmacy (the elevators were out and he couldn’t navigate the stairs). She called his doctor for him, we went to the nearest drugstore and refilled his prescription, and then returned to give him the medicine.
While we were waiting for 2 of our team members to finish going through the floors of one of the buildings, Radha and I started talking to a couple of the residents who were sitting outside on a bench. The man seemed very sweet and told us that it was crazy without power for the past few days, and how he kept bumping into things in his own apartment because it was so dark at night. The woman was talking about her sister in Jersey City and how bad it was there and how they still had no power. She said she’s been trying to call her, and kept getting voicemail. I told her that probably meant that her sister’s phone was turned off because maybe she had no power. She then asked me, “Do you have a phone?” I said yes, and that she could use it. She asked me if I could dial a number for her, and I did… then gave her the phone. I was slightly skeptical but figured that she wasn’t going to run off with it. And she also didn’t look like she would be very fast-moving. Luckily I had no reason to be worried. She was able to reach her sister and sounded very happy talking to her.
I was glad that I was able to help in this small way.
So this is what happens when you try to heat up a hard-boiled egg (shell removed) in the microwave. At least it was okay for me to be late going in to work today as a result.
After four days of hurricane-induced laziness (including almost 2 days of being cooped up inside my 525 sq. ft. apartment), I decided to re-start my workout regimen. It wasn’t completely my fault that I hadn’t worked out since last Friday… I originally PLANNED to go to the gym on Monday and Tuesday, but of course it was closed due to the hurricane. For good reason!
Today I decided to go to the NYSC in my neighborhood and try their UFX Burn class, which was supposedly a high-intensity cross training class. I saw the above video and was a bit scared, but intrigued at the same time. I thought my kickboxing class was pretty intense, so how bad could UFX be, right?
Turns out the class was nothing like the above video (talk about false advertising!). We barely did any of the things the video showed. It was definitely a rigorous cross training class with nonstop circuit training—5 rounds of maybe 7 or 8 different types of exercises using light and heavy weights, along with some sprawls and ab exercises—but it wasn’t particularly scary.
I thought it was a great workout, and good for any skill level. It wasn’t any more difficult than my kickboxing class, really—I guess depending on how heavy the weights you choose are, you could up the intensity. Since it was my first time doing the class and my first time working out in a week, I decided to use pretty wimpy weights.
I would definitely go again… It’s a good alternative to my kickboxing classes. But in all honesty, I think the kickboxing classes are better! Maybe it’s just my aversion to wearing sneakers at the gym for all these workouts… and the fact that my sneakers aren’t that good. I’m used to training barefoot. And I like the feeling of going to a martial arts school vs. a gym. We’ll see. I still have a few more weeks left at NYSC.
Photo credit: Allison Joyce/Getty Images
A few of my reflections on Hurricane Sandy.
The Before:
While lines for big chain stores and markets like Key Foods, Trader Joe’s, Whole Foods, and Rite Aid wrapped around aisles and sometimes even blocks… there were little to no lines at the corner bodegas. The nearby convenience store, Wandy’s Market, was devoid of customers, and they had about 10-12 gallons of water available on Sunday afternoon—when most chain stores were sold out. It’s sad that it’s only the large corporate chains and big box stores that are benefiting from increased “hurricane business,” whereas small bodegas and independent local stores are the ones who need our business most. This could have really helped them, and yet the masses flock to support faceless corporations instead.
As with the last hurricane, if you need D batteries for any of your flashlights, radios, or appliances, you are likely to be SOL because those batteries are the first to sell out. Luckily for some strange reason, my iPod dock/radio runs on C batteries… probably the most under-used battery type ever. If you go to any store, you will probably find an oversupply of C batteries because no one wants them. I think this is a good case for purposely buying a radio or flashlight that uses C batteries.
The During:
In the high winds, on Monday afternoon, I saw a few delivery men riding down my street. It’s sad that they continued to work during the storm… I’m sure they didn’t want to, but were motivated by economic necessity. It’s also sad that there are some people who would actually order delivery during a hurricane and expect that it would be available… or that there would be some poor person who would be willing to deliver it.
All the people who went out and took pictures during the storm… are we really such exhibitionists that we would place such importance on getting pictures of the storm to post on Facebook? It’s not like there would be a shortage of professional photographers or news reporters covering what conditions are like. It seems like our priorities are askew.
The After:
The day after the storm, many businesses, restaurants, and bars in my neighborhood re-opened. In fact, it was pretty crowded and it looked like many places were doing brisk business on Tuesday night. This is a stark contrast to a place like Midtown Manhattan, where a friend told me that only about 30% of places were open. And of course, this is because Midtown Manhattan is not very residential—the people who operate those businesses and restaurants most likely live elsewhere and commute in, if not from another NYC borough completely, from a different neighborhood at least. It made me feel happy to be living in a neighborhood that runs on the work and the businesses of its own residents. It feels good to be part of a local community, a neighborhood ecosystem.
While many people are still dealing with a lack of power, damage to their homes, flooding, and transportation issues… overall most people made it through okay. I know I am one of the luckier ones. And I’m even more lucky to have people, even people I would not have expected, checking in on me.
Walking back from a yummy Brazilian brunch at Barraco Mineiro, we start to head in the direction of my apartment. R suddenly says, “I… uh, have to pick something up. I’ll meet you back at your apartment.”
I am a bit surprised. “Ummmm… okay. Is it something embarrassing?” I tease.
He seems like he’s trying not to laugh. “Um, yes. Yes, it is.”
“Alright then,” I say, suspiciously. “I’ll see you there.”
Turns out it wasn’t medication, embarrassing drugstore items, or drugs… R went on a detour to buy me flowers!
I remember in middle school, for Valentine’s Day, there would always be some club or organization selling carnation-grams. You could purchase one for a friend, or send one to yourself. I believe that yellow or white meant “friends,” pink meant “secret admirer” and red meant “love.” The carnation-grams were delivered on Valentine’s Day to your homeroom.
I may not have gotten many carnation-grams back then, but this makes up for it. :) Thank you, R. What a nice surprise to brighten up a gloomy Saturday!
It’s the end of October, and my cherry tomato plant is still holding out. It’s struggling to survive, with many leaves dried and brown… but there are still some spots of green, along with some cherry tomatoes that continue to bloom. I appreciate its will to live.
It’s come so far since April. It started out as a tiny plant without any tomatoes to speak of, probably about 7 inches. Now it’s over 4 feet tall. Skinny and way past its prime (I believe prime season for tomatoes is July and August), but it’s a hardy one.
Too bad Hurricane Sandy has to come and spoil everything.
