April Fool: Unoriginal Title, Original Content

It's always an indicator if I don't make 'blog day' it's because there's so much going on I'm literally incapable of remembering what day it is, even if I thought of it earlier in the day. This time, I got in early evening after staying up almost all night without food in order to upgrade to a better dwelling on schedule. There is some peace of mind now that having been in a flood zone in the wake of Hurricane Sandy with another evacuation warning during hurricane season just the year before is really no longer an issue now.

I'm thankful and grateful having survived another displacement; there have been benefits, though not without stress. There are others who had it so much worse; we were still among the fortunate. And there were lessons learned, about the generosity of others not previously experienced in an area not well known for its compassion or hospitality. I wanted to leave New York, and ended up on Staten Island. Despite all that's happened, it's been a mixed blessing to have been here during and after the "superstorm". Even though the trauma of having lost everything more than once before was temporarily reactivated, the coping and recovery were more bearable because of so many dedicated as volunteers who traveled from across the country and staying for months on end until their assignments were finished. Most are scheduled to return home at the end of the month: the six month mark from the day after the storm.

It was not only those from elsewhere who gave generously of their irreplaceable time and other resources; it was also the nicest of New Yorkers: the true New York's Finest, as well as a few NYPD officers who actually fit the description that has referred to them in the past. There are nice native New Yorkers, they're just much fewer and further between than say, West Virginia, where typical New Yorkers who go there experience a reverse culture shock. The first state under the Mason Dixon that marks the beginning of 'the south' is known for its hospitality. To a New Yorker, people who say 'hello' to strangers and are 'nice for no reason' are almost impossible to tolerate.

In the northeast, and especially in 'the city', unless one is of the few generous-hearted who surfaced and stepped up in the wake of a 'superstorm', such behavior in their experience only happens when something is sought in exchange. Not so for West Virginians, and volunteers who displaced themselves for the better part of a year to be available and assist others who lost everything. I can only hope to be in a position in the future to do the same, or something similar. Meanwhile, the family secret saga resumes next month, about some native West Virginians two generations ago of the same blood as this author, authored by my grandfather's sister.

It is being copied from less than a hundred pages of hand written notes; and now more than half complete here. More will unfold as the story continues, woven into what has become our lives today. I don't remember ever having met my grandfather's sister, though I did know her offspring. One I didn't know was such until after their death, and it was just as well. Had I known then it may not have made a difference, though the effects of those contacts have affected more than one life forever.

I don't know how many others were also hurt; I only know when I heard grandpa's nephew had passed I was not sad. Only until I read what his mother had written did I know we were related, many years later, relatively recently.