Surviving Sandy

I am writing this laying on a comfortable bed in the Roosevelt Hotel. My Mom is in the room adjacent to mine and my Sis is a room down the hall with Rosie and her bf. We are clawing back in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. We were warned of what was to come and we prepared but not really. I had water bottles galore at home, had food stocked in the freezer and in cans. I also had two buckets of water. I didn’t do the fill your tub cause I didn’t imagine the storm to take out NYC. This is New York. We never sleep. We are the greatest city in the world. Yet, in that hubris, we didn’t think Mother Nature would prove us to be just like any other city and state. I always felt Nature’s equivalent of a knockout punch is something it couldn’t muster in the Northeast and especially in NYC. Hurricanes often fall short of their prowess down south. Earthquakes are out west. Tornadoes are in the middle of the country. Every time one of those events happened near the tri-state area, we brushed it off and stood tall. Well, Mother Nature had something up its sleeve.

Frankenstorm.

This was called another “Perfect Storm”, hearkening back twenty years to the storm that was so famous it turned into a book and then a movie. The culmination of a violent storm from the south which received an additional boost from cold weather circulating from the Northwest, created a hurricane on steroids. It turned perfectly into what is the heart of the tri-state area: Atlantic City. Destruction was its game and it destroyed everything in its path. One by one, cities, townships fell to Sandy. Then it came to New York City.

We had been receiving reports and updates that the storm was upon us. NYC shut down the subways one full day before Sandy came. While people, me included, took it easy on Saturday and enjoyed the fall weather, on Sunday we did some last minute shopping to prepare. Even with the impending storm, I had a last meal with a few friends to enjoy the outdoors as we knew we would be relegated to being cooped up at home and suffer from major cabin fever. So, on Monday, the day of the storm, we sat and waited. I worked from home while my office was closed and handled a number of different matters. I worked late into the evening, until 7pm when I shut down and watched TV to see what was going on. News was reporting the destructive winds and tides it created. Twitter was blazing with updates of areas being crushed by Sandy. The 8pm hour came and with that was the 2nd Emergency warning on my phone from the Office of Emergency Management to get indoors. With that noise blaring on the phone and the reports from ABC sounding more and more severe, the lights continued to flicker. I kept thinking, we’ll ride this out. We are NYC. Then the lights went out so did all the power. I sat in the dark momentarily and then turned on my flashlight. I heard the groans from others in my building in the hall as people went to check the hallway. Pitch dark. I too checked and then sat in the chair and waited for the lights to come on. It was going to come on. It has to. We never have blackouts like this due to storms.

It still hasn’t come on. 2 plus days later I find myself in a hotel smelling fresh and clean and think of how I ended up here. After the lights went out, I lay around on the sofa and then went to bed. I would wake up to power. I woke up to no power. I still had water pressure so I was able to use the bathroom and clean up a little but I noticed the pressure decreasing. By 11am, there was no pressure and no water. I started to use my buckets to wash hands and plates as I cooked using my scripto to light the burners. I made pizza using the oven and baked tater tots. My neighbor was also holed up at her place so we shared food. It felt like survivor. I also made stove top Italian sausage and baked beans. It was good. Ate it by candlelight. The lack of showering didn’t bother me so much. Found a transistor radio and listened to the news. Sis came up with the idea to book a hotel. It would be good for all of us to have that in case this lasts longer than a day. While I was hesitant, nothing beats home, my need for electricity was strong. My cellphone was dying. My laptop was dead. I needed power. I also needed to shower. So I agreed.

We booked a hotel for Wednesday as Tuesday was booked solid. Walking through the hallways with a flashlight and down the 4 flights made me wonder and appreciate the need for a hotel. I didn’t like paying money for a place that was in the area with electricity. I only lived 15 blocks from the hotel and it seemed unfair and expensive. Yet, as Wednesday went along and I tired of smelling and feeling gross as well as needed to use a bathroom badly with no one to vent cause my cellphone was dead, I decided it was time to get going. At this point Mom was staying with me and with her health not being great the last year, getting her down four flights was quite a feat but with the help of Derek, we were able to walk her down the stairs. With wheelchair ready, we put her in the chair, grabbed some essentials and rolled off to the hotel. Sis made sure that Mom’s room shared the double doors with mine so I can check in on her. We got to our rooms and the first thing I did was use the bathroom. I know. TMI but it was what happened. I had to get clean. Seriously, the things we take for granted, the little things, are magnified when we do not have them at the ready. I missed light and was angry and sad when I walked up to 41st street and saw lights there but behind me was pitch dark. Where I lived we lived in what felt like the stone age. Not to mention everyone just seemed sad and in a daze. Didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know where to go. I saw people in ATM booths charging phones and laptops. Same on the street between 39th and 40th and 3rd avenue. The office building had graciously allowed people to bring a power surge strip to charge their phones. A line formed and people calmly stood or sat on the ground charging. There was a niceness in the air with New Yorkers and people were willing to help as much as they could. I checked in on a few elderly people in my building whom in the past gave me no mind but were thankful that I brought them water and checked on them. Shared batteries with them so they could have full powered flashlights. Humanity wasn’t washed away by Sandy. In fact, it appeared stronger.

While Sandy may have made us bend, it did not break us. I will wait for electricity with the hopes it comes Thursday and then resume life but knowing that we were tested but we survived. That, is our strongest testimony of the human spirit.

I Am (NOT) Legend

Saturday night I was asked to sit in with a band my friend Amelia pulled together at Rockwood Music Hall. I haven’t had too many opportunities of late to play with a band and since I had a quiet weekend planned, I thought it would be a nice addition. So I agreed and joined the ensemble cast. I played the keyboard and since it was a lot of original work, played decently for the parts requiring a keyboardist. I didn’t get any solos but handled the bridges to a few songs without error. After we played half a set and took a break, I went to the bar to get a drink. I wasn’t being paid for my part but did get free drinks so I was able to down a few gins while relaxing and taking in the sounds and sights at the place. While chilling until we were going back on stage, I was approached by several people who asked me if I used to play solo or with a small band at the Continental and Max Fish back in the mid to late 90s (sounds freaking old, huh?). I confirmed that I did and than they went on to say they remember catching me play and how I sound much better now than I did then. Weird backhanded compliment but I took it in stride and said thanks. One girl went on in detail how she remembered I played some difficult pieces and it was obvious I was overwhelmed by the music but still it was a valiant effort. Soon enough, each person chimed in that I had attempted to play songs and perform like someone I wasn’t but to hear me now they noticed that I’ve mellowed out with age and play within my skills. Another girl whom I think realized that it was sounding harsh then complimented me that no one in their group could ever play up to my level and I had balls to perform in public. I was gracious and thanked them for remembering me. Then, I was told why I was memorable. It happened to be that I was the first and only guy with from an Indian heritage they had ever seen or perform live music at a bar in NYC. Apparently I was the minority among the other musicians who played the circuit. I had to laugh out loud cause it wasn’t my “talent” that stuck out but it was “me” who stuck out. I joked that I hope I made people realize that we are more than just doctors, newspaper stand owners and Apu from the Simpsons. That got a laugh and we joked some more before I returned to the stage to finish out the set with the rest of the band.

When I was going to leave, I spoke to Amelia to thank her for the opportunity. She said she heard through the grape-vine that I needed a pick me up and knew music would always make me feel better. She was right, music did help pick up my spirits after my recent relationship demise but the same time it was also talking to people who remembered me from those days when I looking back life seemed so much simpler. Everyone was doing well, the country was doing well, it was a freaking love fest. Now, I looked outside the hall and it felt like that spirit was gone. Everyone has issues, the country is doing poorly and there is strife in the world. True, the good old days weren’t always good and tomorrow isn’t bad as it seems but to recapture some of what we had in the past would make the issues we deal with today a whole lot better. Much like me playing a piano nowadays where I am no longer trying to be someone else (i.e. Bill Joel, Elton John, Scott Joplin, etc) but I still try to recapture the magic that made those days special. I wish we all would recapture that magic of long ago. It would make this world a better place

Mistakes

Even when I try to have mistake free days, I find myself haunted by past mistakes. Consequences reverberate from month old to year’s old actions. While I am remorseful about those human errors I have committed that doesn’t seem to be enough in certain situations. Luckily my mistakes only hurt me and continue to hurt me and not the ones I love. That would be an unbearable pain.

Dad

27 years ago I lost my Dad. There are times when I think about him the wound feels fresh. As if it happened yesterday. While I know this is not the case, the loss stays with me.

I miss plenty of things about my Dad. His kindness, generosity, perspective about the world. All those things. Most of all, his reassuring voice that no matter what happens in life, life is beautiful and things will always turn out well. As I have gotten older, I realize we need more of that in life.

So Shines A Good Deed In A Weary World

Saturday I was caught in the afternoon deluge that overtook New York City. Fierce and heavy rains fell accompanied by thunder claps and lighting sizzling in the sky. I had just left Trader Joe’s with 4 paper bags full of groceries on my way home. Not being prepared I ducked under the cover of Home Depot as I made my way home. Although under the awning of the store, the vertical and horizontal rain fall dampened my bags. I soldiered on to make my way to 5th avenue or perhaps even Park to catch a cab home. As I struggled with my wet bags which soon started to fall apart, I felt upset and wondered why the hell I do such stupid things. It was around that struggle that a middle aged woman saw me and politely pointed out one of my bags bottom was tearing. I thanked her and ran under the Radio Shack canopy to figure out a solution. A few moments later she came back with two plastic bags for me to use to place my bags in. All the while other people had walked by me without a care in the world. In fact a few I felt their eyes on me but offered no assistance. What an angel she turned out to be. I thanked her several times and she helped me and then went on her way. I was able with my plastic bags encased bags to catch a cab and go home.

Every time I am about to lose faith in my fellow human being, compassion in the form of a good Samaritan finds me and reaffirms my faith that there are people out there who will go out of their way for someone in need. This storm did bring out a rainbow.

Fact Checking

I had a wonderful post that I wanted to write in honor of my 8th grade teacher.  My sister had told me that through a friend she found that our 8th grade teacher had passed away. It took me by surprise but also I realized that with our teachers closing in on their late 80s – early 90s, it is logical that all good things must come to an end. So, I poured my heart out in memory of her and the effect she had on me as a person and as a professional.  Below is the post I intended for this blog:

A few nights ago I found out from my sister that my 8th grade Homeroom and Math teacher, Sister Elizabeth, had passed away some time ago. Sis has been good about keeping in touch with her and the other sisters who taught us in grammar school all those years ago. The friendship reached all the way across our family, to Mom and Dad. When Dad passed, I remember the number of condolences and well wishes that the teachers at my school had sent our way. When I reached 8th grade, Sister Elizabeth, who was known to have a very tough reputation, had greeted me and told me she had such tremendous respect for my father and wished my Mom well under the circumstances that had happened 3 years prior.

Sister Elizabeth was a talk, no-nonsense teacher. As a student I found her to be stern and she always would call me out when she felt (and most times was correct) that I wasn’t putting any effort into my education. My sister had been taught by Sister Elizabeth and she had a standard of excellence she expected from the sibling of her best student. I, sadly, was not excellent. I wasn’t even adequate. I sucked at math and overall was a mediocre student. I wasn’t bothered that I didn’t excel as my sister had, I accepted it. Sister Elizabeth would have none of that. She would implore me when I had bad grades to get better. She believed in me and while I never proved her right, I was competent enough to pass her classes.

Years later, when we talked and encountered each other, she was proud of how I had done with my life. Even though my road to law was long and tortious, she knew I would make something out of my life. I thanked her in believing in me and she told me that while my sister had the potential and used it to her fullest, she knew I needed to be encouraged cause she saw potential but also a great deal of slacker. I told Sister Elizabeth that hindsight being 20/20, I realized just how much she helped shape me. She even apologized for calling me “Radish” which she did by accident because she had a hard time pronouncing my name. I told her it was funny more than hurtful and I’ve been called worse (ask my ex-gfs lol).

So we kept in touch on and off during the years. Mostly through my sister, and when Sister Elizabeth found herself in the hospital that my sister is a physician at, Sis would make sure she had the best care. I realized as time went by, that of all the people who knew me since I was child and kept in touch with me, there are not that many who are currently a part of my life. Sister Elizabeth was one of the few who knew my Dad. Those people hold a special place in my heart because they keep his memory alive through the kind thoughts they share with me about him and his effect on them. I noticed Sister Elizabeth was getting older, a little slower, slightly stooping which didn’t show much cause she was such a tall woman. My sister related to me a conversation she had with her when talking about gays/lesbians and Sister Elizabeth, having been in the Church for practically her whole life, said, they are people and should be treated like the rest of us. There isn’t anything we can do to change someone who were born that way. Profound words from such a progressive person.

When I found out the news she had passed away, I thought about all the good she had done. She left her mark even when I hadn’t thought about it. She believed in me long before I believed in myself. I went to my local church and lit a candle in her honor, thanking her for being there for me as a teacher and friend and hoping she gets her good reward for giving of herself on this earth. 25 years later and her teaching is something I still remember. Rest In Peace Sister Elizabeth.

Well, it turned out that Sister Elizabeth had in fact not passed away, and is alive and well. She is living in a retirement community upstate! I mulled over what to do with this post and decided to post it cause while she hasn’t left her earthly bonds, I think celebrating teachers should be done regardless of the situation. I also should have known as an attorney that hearsay is not often truth unless supported by facts. So, while humbled by my legal failure, the silver lining is that I had a chance to look back on the people who educated me and shaped me into the person I am and appreciate them in my own way.

Town of Cold Spring

For the last couple of years when I have felt mentally exhausted and need a change of scenery for just a few short hours, I hop on the Metro North train bound for Poughkeepsie. In about an hour I find myself in Cold Spring, a hamlet just north of Garrison, NY, 90 miles from NYC. The sheer beauty of the place, so quaint it could be from a Currier and Ives painting gives me a chance to restore my mental balance and reenergize me for the challenges that lay ahead. I see myself buying a home here in the future when I need to get away from the hustle and bustle and embrace the natural beauty New York has to offer.

Having Children

This past weekend I encountered something I haven’t really had much interaction in my life. I spent time with 2 babies. As a dating bachelor, my world has recently become more and more involved with children of friends. I hang out with friends who are parents or soon to be parents and I see their relationships either pre-children, during pregnancy and post-pregnancy. Adjustments need to be made, in their relationships as well as in their daily lives, but it gets done. Sure, there are disagreements, but most of it has to deal with responsibilities and who feels they are shouldering more than their spouse. Still, at the end of the day, everyone gets along, they still love and they love their child(ren).

As I’ve spent more time with this sub-group of friends, I realized that I romanticized having a child. I thought of all the great things to do with a child. Watching them grow up, introducing them to sports, music, food while also learning from them. I tried not to think about the challenges of keeping a child from crying loudly in public or juggling eating in public with baby in carriage. Also the various discharges from babies wasn’t something that I was prepared for. Then I sat there on Saturday afternoon and watched my Office Wife J, wiping with her fingers when she couldn’t find a napkin/tissue, her daughter’s snotty nose or spit up. No qualms or cringing. She just did it. This is the same J who would go all “Ewwwww” if we talked about vomiting. In the 6 months since J had her daughter, I saw a different person. If these things still bothered her, she didn’t let up. In fact, her blouse was stained with spit up but she didn’t mind. As I watched her daughter S and found her looking deep into my eyes, I understood that when you love someone, a child for instance, you will not be bothered by any of those things as their well-being is what matters. At the end of the day, helping my Office Wife feed her daughter, play with her and then slowly see her ready to sleep, I felt that tug in my heart.  

On Monday, I found out that my friends Y and K had the birth of their baby daughter late Sunday night.  So, I picked up the requisite gifts of Mets clothing.  Every child of a Mets fan receives that from me. If that is the only lasting mark on leave on them, so be it. Then it is the best I can offer. Went to the hospital and met up with other friends to visit them at Roosevelt hospital. The group was large and friendly and Y was understandably exhausted from the event. Yet there she was smiling and holding her daughter. K was telling us how everything transpired and sounded  and looked as exhausted as her. Still, they were both happy. Elated in fact. I took in baby K and she looked absolutely heavenly. Asleep for the most part with a few cries in between. I know the road ahead will be filled with responsibilities but Y and K looked ready for it. They have the awesome couple vibe and I could see that this addition to their family only makes them better and happier. We all stayed a little past visiting hours before heading home but not before promising a trip out to visit them at their home once they get settled.

As I traveled home, I thought of the experiences I had in the past 72 hours. I saw the responsibilities and challenges of raising a child but also the rewards of doing so. I heard how even through the good/bad/ugly, they would not change a thing. I saw a couple who were already as tight as tight can be get even closer for their newborn. Taking it all in, I thought about what I want in life. How, when I was younger, the idealized version of having a child was slowly replaced with the reality of raising a child. There are challenges and things will not always go smoothly. In fact, you can do everything in your power to give your child the best life but life has other plans for them. Still, what I saw was the most beautiful event life can offer. I also realized, I am getting over the hurdle. Life isn’t about me. It isn’t about staying in my box and remaining comfortable. It is about sharing all that life holds. So a child is definitely something I see in my future. First, I need to work on my relationship front and see if P is child interested. That should be a natural choice, and not a choice forced by me. While I have hope for us, there is part of me that does know P’s answer. Whether I can live with it is the question.

Reflections On 38

Just as I was getting used to being 37, I turned 38 this weekend. Now I have to start over and embrace the one less step to 40. I wasn’t in a good frame of mind when getting to this point. In fact, I felt straight up old. I know, young at heart, age is just a number, blah, but I started to think about where I was in life and how I haven’t even come close to those dreams of what I thought my life would be when I was dreaming at 21, 25, 30 and 35. While a lot of things have fallen into place: Career, City Living, Strong Close Group of Friends, Healthy Immediate Family, I feel there is something missing. I had dreams of helping those who were defenseless or underrepresented. Be it through politics, law, medicine, I was going to make a difference. As of now, the only difference I make through my career is make my company rich and avoid terrible contractual obligations. Not really improving the world.

I had dreams of having a family. Sharing the fruits of my labors with someone special and perhaps teach our children (which were either through biology, adoption or marriage) the few relevant things I learned about life. I would be on the road to looking forward to growing old with her and know that she would be in my corner regardless of what I face and I would protect her as much as I could from whatever life threw at us. Instead, I am in a complicated relationship with a wonderful girl whom I love but I feel we aren’t really meant for each other. Then there is the spectre of the relationship that could be but can I hold onto that hope much longer? These are the questions that I face in this 38th year.

Lastly, I just had a different outlook on life in general. Things in the world would be better. We, as a society, would be more humane. Understanding. Caring. We would not turn our back on our fellow human being but together would work to creating a world where everyone has opportunities and are willing to give of themselves selflessly. I think that is truly a dream that will never come true. I’m not perfect so how can I expect others to be? Yet, I still dream that one day in my lifetime, I’ll see glimmers of hope. Not class wars, racial discrimination, sexual discrimination.

So, for the past 17 years I have been thinking of what is missing in my life. What will I do in this year? I will actually appreciate what I have. Embrace the great things that my life has. I’m going to be upbeat, happy about life. It is not a so-called life. It is life and while many obstacles may come flying my way, I just have to dodge and leap but with a smile on my face and determination in my heart and mind.

My Mentor

Last week and this afternoon I spoke to my long time friend/former boss Sherman. Sherman gave me my first legal position after law school. While I was working for his matrimonial practice as a law clerk, that was when I was completing my masters and law degree.  This was my first real attorney position. Mainly, Sherman had given me the chance because I was one of the unlucky graduates during 2001 when our world was turned upside down. Without steady employment, Sherman opened his arms and hired me full-time. During my tenure at Sherman, I was not only working on matrimonial matters but I was learning from one of the best in the business. A person who loved law.

Sherman would pour through the New York Law Journal, reading through the various cases and decisions as well as legal theory articles. He loved law. One evening, while I was working late, I went by his office and he was sitting reading through the paper. He mentioned an exciting article about an adverse property ruling. I asked him, why did he read about legal matters that were not in his field of expertise. He told me that he loved law, being paid was just icing on the cake. The main reason he went into the field wasn’t to make money but to surround himself with subject matter that was one of the loves of his life. It was at that moment I realized I never truly loved law. I liked it a lot, but never loved it. Still, Sherman showed me how to love the field and work through the lows that come with the profession.  Through his lessons of law, he taught me about life. About working through adversity, when life hurled all sorts of challenges my way. To rise above and also love life in the process.

All of this was almost ten years ago. Now, Sherman, while practicing law, has slowed his practice down. He is 84 years young and wants to continue practicing law, told me he would till the day he no longer is breathing. I trust 100% that he would keep his word. I have noticed in our last two conversations the frailty in his voice I have not heard before. I know this is part of the normal course of life, which is why I felt I needed to write this. Sherman has had such a tremendous effect on my life. He took a lost law school student and person and helped make me a competent lawyer as well as a better person.  While I have made visits to Sherman and his family and we have talked often on the phone, I fear that those times could come to an end in our near future. I feel everyone has had a Sherman in their lives. Just think about someone who has helped you become a better person and embrace them.