Spreeblick

Unser New Yorker Autor Carlito schreibt zwar derzeit nur etwa alle zwei Jahre für uns, doch wenn ein Texte kommt, dann ist er auch gut. Live vom Stromausfall: Der Hudsonblick in der Licht-aus-Edition.

As natural disaster experiences go, mine has been a very benign one. We still have the comfort of a roof over our heads and all members of the family are here and accounted for. The hurricane itself only grazed us, with the effect of a powerful, lingering rainstorm with just enough oomph to take out the electricity and the trains. While entire homes on the Jersey shore have been reclaimed by sand and sea, we are high and dry, if cold and dark. We have plenty of food on hand, and it’s not the sort of neighborhood where looting is likely. We are still far from our post-apocalyptic dreams.

It is a family experience. The kids are having fun, of course. Playing on fallen trees like they’re jungle gyms, running around wearing glow sticks. Endlessly creative with the legos, tinker toys, Lincoln logs: building small cities, arranging armies of stuffed animals, throwing parties lit by tiny Halloween lights. I think my wife is reverting to a sort of latent paganism, lighting candles and turning the house into a campground. Reading War and Peace to pass the hours.

And this is the most remarkable thing – the hours. Hours without television or computers. The experience of not being too distracted by entertainment to sleep when it gets dark out. Passing the time slowly and carefully; careful not to open the refrigerator too long, to preserve what coolness we have trapped there. Careful not to use our flashlights gratuitously, or to check our phones for email too often. Cautiously preserving our link to the world. Thank you, by the way, to everyone who read the news and thought to check in. It’s always nice to hear from you, and a hurricane is as good a reason as any.

Tomorrow begins a new phase of the adventure. Shuttle buses have been organized to get us back to work, if on a strangely shifted schedule to get us home again before it is too dark. I look forward to charging my phone and drinking hot coffee. This might last a week, this might happen again. It’s the second time this year. Maybe it is the beginning of a century long arc to a more rustic time.