Sandy

The following was composed Tuesday, 30 October, 2012:

You probably know much more about Hurricane Sandy than I do. We can’t watch the news or listen to the radio; we can’t surf the web on our laptops; we can’t even flush the toilets or fill a coffee pot from the faucet. We are, as we were after Irene, without power and without running water. 22 hours and counting.

Last time it was eight days; I’m hoping we don’t match that. United Illuminating, our electric provider, garnered a whole bunch of shit after Irene. Customers, legislators and governors all railed against them for how long it took to restore power. We’ll see if they do any better this time.

Luckily, we suffered no damage, at least none we’ve seen so far. Lots of trees came down in the woods – we heard one particularly large one last night – but none hit the house. (The image to the right only shows some very small trees that came down; far larger ones are further down the trail). The basement is dry and we are all safe, so there’s much to be grateful for. Another lost refrigerator/freezer load though – not so grateful for that.

I can’t help but think of my previous encounter with Sandy – my first boyfriend, 1972-1974. I was 23; he was 19. Remarkably, at those young ages, we were together two years and, when we did finally acknowledge we were no longer lovers, we continued to live together as loving roommates for six months, and remained friends for years.

Sandy was just as full of energy as was this storm, whose effects we are still feeling. Like a storm, he was unpredictable and spontaneous; that made me crazy at times, but it also showed me that there were other ways to see the world; my rigid, Army-brat upbringing was turned on its ear as Sandy forced me to question my behaviors and beliefs.

Unlike yesterday’s hurricane, Sandy did no damage. Like yesterday’s hurricane, he brought a mighty wind into my life, stirred things up and left me a better person. I think my fonder memories will always be of Sandy the man rather than Sandy the storm.

Addendum, Wednesday, 31 October 2012:

I am back at work and have just had a hot shower, courtesy of the Payne-Whitney gym at Yale. We still have no power at home, as is true of 70% of Woodbridge. Could be worse – 85% of Long Island is without power. As I surf the web for the first time in three days I am stunned by the storm’s effect on New York City. Learning that some subway tunnels and stations were flooded up to the ceiling tells me it’s going to be a long slog back to normalcy. I was in fact planning on going into the city tonight, but with no trains running I am not willing to face what would likely be a horrendous car commute.

So I’m enjoying my brightly lit Yale office, my fast internet connection and the ability to make a hot shot of espresso whenever I want. Tonight, another candlelit dinner with Ransom.

Or maybe a restaurant for a change. Cooking in the dark is getting old.

Romney's vision for America

Come on, Mitt! Have a heart!

And while you're at it, use your head. Public TV and Radio account for a TINY part of the Federal budget, something like 0.001 percent. Do you really think firing Jim Lehrer and Big Bird constitutes a fiscal plan to fix our economy?

You, Mitt, can afford to go to the Metropolitan Opera any time you want. Lots of people are not so fortunate. For most Americans in fact, watching Great Performances at the Met is the closest they will ever get to that fabled stage. Is the chance to watch Downton Abbey or Upstairs Downstairs on Masterpiece something you really want to take away from us?

What's wrong with you, Mitt?

Are we part of the 47% you've written off?

Wherever you want to put me, let me tell you, I'm a proud American who loves PBS and watches its programs weekly. I'm an uncle who has nephews and nieces who learned how to be good and proud Americans by watching PBS. I'm an arts fan who agreed with John Kennedy when he said "I look forward to an America which will not be afraid of grace and beauty . . . an America which will reward achievement in the arts as we reward achievement in business or statecraft."

I know you value business achievement, Mitt. Please don't be afraid of the arts.

Please don't be afraid of Big Bird.

Hurry up and wait

I attend a lot of arts events: classical music concerts in New Haven, Hartford and New York; theatre and dance productions in New York; opera at the Met and the Met in HD here at Yale. I don’t go to movies much anymore because of the incivility of the experience, but now and then I see something on the big screen.

Going to all of these events has one thing in common: I always arrive on time. I do not arrive late, ever. Is that an exaggeration? Probably. There has likely been a concert or two that had already started before I arrived, but I honestly cannot remember such a thing. And certainly I have never arrived late for a Broadway show, or any theatre event.

And what’s my reward for always being on time? I wait for the latecomers! You all know this: NOTHING starts on time anymore. Broadway curtains are almost always held ten minutes; at the Met it’s five; concerts often start 15 minutes late, sometimes much later.

Why is that? Most of us are in our seats on time. We made the effort; we left a little wiggle room for traffic or trouble finding a parking space or mass transit delays. 90% of us are here. Why do the 10% get all the power? Why are WE kept waiting because THEY are late? Venues everywhere say something like “Latecomers will be seated at an appropriate break in the performance,” but they don’t mean it. Latecomers are seated for ten minutes while we who did the right thing wait for them.

FTS!

I’m reminded of this because my local public radio station just ended its four-week long Fall fund-raising drive. OK, it wasn't four weeks long – it just seemed like it.

I hate fund drives. We all do. The radio and TV stations hate doing them. But I hate them particularly because every three months an automatic charge hits my credit card for $91.25, money that goes to WSHU, my local NPR affiliate. I give them $365 a year and I am happy to do it. But I have to sit through hour upon hour of fund-raising just like those in their audience who are too damn stingy to pitch in.

There’s currently nothing that can be done. I hope that someday WSHU can broadcast two streams: one that’s free and one that unlocks with a code. Folks who have donated can listen to the drive-free stream while the rest of the audience suffers through the badgering.

But I’ll likely be dead before that happens.

Theatres though could make the change. Years ago the Equity theatre in the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts did it. For an entire season they put an announcement in every program that the following year they would start their shows on time. “Be in your seat or wait outside” was the message, over and over. And the next year, they did it. Shows started on time; latecomers fumed – but they learned.

People can be trained.

Or, sadly, I should probably say it USED TO BE true that people could be trained. That experience in Richmond was about thirty years ago. There’s way too much evidence these days that bad behavior is on the rise and cannot be lessened.

Ah, the good old, on-time, days when 8 o’clock meant 8 o’clock.