Last Sunday night was the start of violent change. I felt it was an auspicious time for me. That day, I began my blog, connecting with others in a new, immediate way. I was excited, anxious to start this relatively new way of communicating that holds such vast potential. Here is where creativity can flourish in a new way, a twenty-first century way—unfettered by paper publishing problems, old habits and passé ideas of literary form.
I didn’t know how the world would change in just thirty six hours. After all, I have weathered many storms. So many times, they haven’t lived up to the hype, causing needless worry. But, as the hour of impact arrived and low-lying areas began to flood hours ahead of predictions, I (and I guess the rest of those who resisted reality) realized this was the storm, the hurricane that we in the northeast have been warned about for at least a decade.
Furious, deadly Hurricane Sandy.
It will take quite a while to recover. Towns no longer exist. The topography of the New Jersey and New York shores has forever changed. Uninhabitable are thousands of houses that once nurtured life, no longer able to provide shelter, broken and desolate—listing on their foundations like disabled ships.