<p>Raising my hand to say that as healthy adults living in suburban CT, the loss of power, water, heat and even cell phone for some time was an inconvenience. We had plenty of room to store water, logs for a fireplace and a gas grill to cook once the rain and wind stopped. Could not drive out of the house due to downed power lines for several days, but we could get past that. Still no power and closed schools. However, with many friends in the tristate area, with a H who works in Manhattan, I am acutely aware that we are among the lucky ones. I cannot imagine being a city apt without elevator service, public transportation and that is not even the devastation in SI and other outer boroughs. We also have a house on Long Beach Island, NJ which has areas that are simply devastated. Friends have been accounted for, so again a relief. As another poster stated above, we cannot access the island by bridge or by boat to asses our damage. With apologies for length, here is a copy of post by the pastor of the Episcopal priest in Beach Haven, on Long Beach Island, who is ministering to the relief workers. This wonderful gentleman (not in his youth) has been hauling bay water to flush his toilet to stay and minister. If looking to donate to a specific church, his is Holy Innocents Episcopal Church, Beach Haven, NJ 08008
Here is his latest missive (he has been posting of FB if you wish to “friend” them):</p>
<p>Friday, 2 November 2012
All Souls</p>
<p>I cried a lot today. A part of that is, I am sure, being tired and having a narrowed emotional margin, and another part is joy at seeing pieces put in play at the beginning of the week finally fall into place…a day when several strands found their connections, and unmerited Grace of God emerged in an ancient familiar context- police work.</p>
<p>About 1030EDT, a young US Supreme Court officer and a medical student friend of his arrived to help unload 196 cases of water canned by Anheuser- Busch in their Cartersville, Georgia brewery…that’s 4704 cans neatly stacked in the kitchen. As we worked, we talked:</p>
<p>“I was on the job for awhile.”
“Yeah? Where?”
“Memphis. 1974-1879”
“W-h-o-a.”</p>
<p>The amazement clearly was not about cop-become-priest, but rather that there were police officers at all in the 1970s.</p>
<p>With increased deference toward the living fossil he had uncovered, he asked when we’d finished: “Can I get you anything before we go?” I said, “What are the odds that I can get 3 volt batteries for a Surefire two-cell?” He smiled and said “Pretty good,” and he withdrew his working light from his gun belt, unscrewed the butt of it and pitched the batteries I’d described to me. I said, “That’s your working light.” He smiled again and said, “You got the right light. Father, and I got more batteries.” This young man gifted me with respect I had no claim to, nor had I anticipated- a respect I’d shown to older cops when I was young…,and from a man unborn when I left police service.</p>
<p>A bit later a box truck with its own forklift arrived and set off three pallets 8 rows high of large cans of soup. A DC Transit officer picked up the can and tossed it to a Captain in the Saint Charles Parish, Louisiana Sheriff’s Office, who put it down on one end of a four-table long slide, where the hand of a US Air Force Special Investigator swept it hard down the table-ramp, guided as needed by the hands of two Beach Haven officers and a DC undercover officer toward a DC uniform Sergeant and a Metropolitan Nashville-Davidson County, Tennessee detective, who tossed the cans to Beach Haven officers stacking them under a line of five tables in Martin Hall. This went on for over an hour as visiting members of the Fraternal Order of Police supported fellow members here in Beach Haven…a typical practice among law enforcement officers when one department could easily be overwhelmed by a natural disaster of the magnitude of Hurricane Sandy. </p>
<p>They finished and I thanked them and we said our good byes.</p>
<p>Ten minutes later the Saint Charles Parish deputy returned and said " I have something for you," and he handed me a gold pocket piece bearing an image of Saint Michael the Archangel, the patron of police officers, on one side, and a meteorologist’s hurricane symbol on the other bearing the legend “Hurricane Katrina Response Team” …a piece reserved for officers who served along the Gulf Coast during and after the Katrina disaster. I said, “I don’t deserve this- I wasn’t there, and I haven’t been sworn for a long time.” He looked at me and said “We both know you can leave the job but the job will never leave you. Cop-to-cop, hurricane-to-hurricane.” We embraced, he left, and I was a mess for quite some time, and I am again as I write this.</p>
<p>As the afternoon progressed, it finally started to feel that we really were open for business- the place where folks could come and rest, and hava cuppa, and pick up things they needed. We had a couple drop-ins, and I returned a call from the Rector of Saint Martin’s, Metairie, Louisiana- a fine guy with whom I’d shared the slate in an episcopal election several years ago. </p>
<p>He said he’d been thinking about me, and knew what I was facing, since he’d done ministry during and after Katrina. He is sending aid from his parish to Holy Innocents- to be used in meeting the suffering of storm victims…the Church crossing long distances to alleviate human misery. </p>
<p>It was a day staggering under the weight of Graceful blessings…a day of completion and a beginning. I am so grateful.</p>
<p>Love you. See you in Church.</p>