The Storm

It's weird about the hurricane. Even though losing power for a week is nothing in comparison to losing your home, it was still pretty traumatic. Sitting in your house and not knowing what's going to happen next was a pretty scary thing. Nothing that you were used to doing was possible once it was over. You didn't know which roads would be open or if water was going to be limited. Could you get gas? It was freaky that the phones--both land lines and cell--were out for a period of time. So even if you didn't lose your home, it was still a tough time.

Everybody at work has been remarking about how off kilter they have been feeling since the storm. I think most are finally beginning to feel that things are back to normal, for the most part. It does weigh on your mind that there are so many people who are suffering from losing their homes, and the thought of losing big sections of the Jersey shore is really sad. Over the last 2 years, I've been spending a lot of time there, and I'm really sad to know that so many of those areas are, for the most part, gone.

The lines at the gas station are finally gone, but there are still many signs of the storm. For example, there are still lots of trees down. These are not just little twigs, but gigantic pine trees that I'm sure are very old.

Everybody I know is planning to get a generator, just in case we have another storm. In other words, people feel pretty certain that this was not the last of the big, crazy storms. I think that's definitely a shift in attitude.

I am very lucky to have good friends who kept checking in. I have a core set of neighbors who banded together and helped each other. That was a very comforting thing.

I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving! We do all have so much to be grateful for!

Dear Date

Before we go out, you must provide:

• fingerprints
• driver's license
• FBI dossier
• urine sample
• snippet of hair

Ready to go?

Fall pedaling

What is it about biking that makes one feel so free.

Today was cool and sunny with a strong breeze. Riding along, I could see the waves crash against the shore. Black Eyed Susans were blooming like mad as if it were the middle of the hot summer. Those blooms were one last gasp of summer, and I was taking one last ride of the season.

Lives

For the past couple of years, I have been following two very different blogs. Different in that one focuses on a young woman (a mother and wife) and her husband who were badly burned in an airplane accident. The other focuses on a 50+ year old man who serves as a deacon at a local church and has been suffering from cancer. Each writer writes in detail about their daily struggle. One describes the joys of raising 5 young children, the last of whom was born 3 years after the accident. The other describes the day-to-day realities of battling what appears to be a terminal and virulent form of cancer.

Each day I check in and see how they are doing. Is the chemo working? Has he been able to go back to work? What about his position as a deacon?

And what of the young mother. How are the children doing? Is the baby thriving? Is she happy to have survived but to being struggling with the stares of strangers and the future of many more surgeries?

It's a strange thing, but both blogs are the same in that both people are dealing with what must seem at times impossible situations. Ironically enough, both are incredibly hopeful people and it is rare to read complaints from either one.

Why then do I care? I can't answer that question. I guess it's a little like reading a soap opera. There's no sex and definitely no violence. What there is is a lot of hope and strength. It's amazing how strong these folks are. It is also amazing how each one continues on with the day-to-day routines of their lives. They take care of others. They enjoy new food. They react to the stories of the day. But perhaps they cannot share the deep emotions that they share online with those around them. I suspect it is a good outlet for them.

Maybe sometimes I need a little of their hope and strength. Thankfully, I am not dealing with anything even remotely close to what they are handling. But it doesn't hurt to see how others are living and struggling. That sounds very selfish, but it is not meant to. Perhaps I'm just nosey (I know that to be a fact). Perhaps there's just a need to know how others handle adversity.

Their humanness is raw. One can feel their abject pain and joy. Their lives go on while they struggle each day with their own mortality. Something that each one of us does each day

Hack, Hack, Hack...

Do you think it's possible to start coughing and be unable to stop? I'm beginning to think that's possible! Hack, Hack, Hack, Akkkkkk