Gratefulness After the Storm?

In January of 1999 I was stopped at the intersection of Stewart and Washington Avenues. It was 3:15 in the afternoon---I was headed to a PTA meeting at the high school. But when I received the left-hand turn arrow and accelerated, a woman driving southbound ran the light.

It was my first car accident.

And once I was settled, I did an accounting of the preceding events. I thanked God that I was okay—I had my seat belt on. I thanked God that my children were not in the car—they had missed the experience. Then I looked over at the driver who, while her car was totaled, was also unhurt. I then thanked God that I was not far from home and that some good Samaritans had stopped and called the police from their car phone.

Yet the second I had gotten to the end of my Thank God inventory all I could conclude was God damn it—that b**** just knocked the wheel off of my brand new Suburban!

And here I sit in my kitchen nook with my battery powered laptop --too many days since Super-storm Sandy. The snow’s reflection lights my keyboard—it is the first day I have chosen to sit down and write. And I have much to be grateful for. All of my family is safe—including the dog. I thank God that the linden tree behind my house still stands—it did not fall and crush the rear of my home –nor have the squirrels who live in the top branches chosen to relocate in my attic. And I thank God that I never relented and upgraded my heating system—because while it is energy inefficient, I am warm and toasty. I thank God too that I have hot water and a gas stove and grill. I may shower and cook.

I thank God that I am so much more fortunate than many others who are homeless, cold and hungry.

Yet for as lengthy as the Thank God column is, I am consumed by the God Dammits. I am tired of long gas lines and no power to do the laundry or vacuum my flooring or run my dishwasher. I cannot blow-dry my hair or see well enough to put on my make-up. I want my internet, phone, and cable back.

 I want my routine reinstalled.

For all my good fortune, I covet those even more fortunate than I. I am powerless and power-less to fix my dissatisfaction.

It will take time. It took six weeks for the wheel of the Suburban to get placed back on its axel. It took months for the insurance company to settle the car accident claim. All I know is it better not take that long for me to get my electricity back or I am going to have to round up all those displaced squirrels from the fallen trees in my neighborhood, put them in a giant turbine wheel, and create my own power company.

Because there is no way my Squirrel Powered Energy Authority (SPEA for short) could perform any more poorly or as inefficiently as LIPA. And I understand the squirrels, like the LIPA workers, both enjoy working for a handful of nuts.