The bodegas are all sold out of bread. The liquor store has a line around the block. Modell's is selling record numbers of winter boots, and Rebecca and I have canceled our evening plans in favor of hunkering down and avoiding what would surely have been a most frustrating subway journey. The denizens of this fair city have soggy socks. The blizzard has arrived. I skim social media and read sensational stories about the storm of the century. Yes it is snowing out, but surely the apocalyptic rhetoric is overblown, right? I skim again, and see the cynics scoffing at our collective panic; this is winter -- it is supposed to snow. As a son of New England, the land where men, women, and children laugh in the face of nor'easters, I am sympathetic to the cynics. However, I look around New York, and it is as plain as the nose on the Old Man in the Mountain (RIP) that not all is well. Sensational as reports might be, many New Yorkers lack the simple resources to weather this storm. You can see them everywhere you look, seeking solace on warm exhaust vents, in subway cars, and under flimsy awnings. If you find yourself scoffing at sensational reports of a historic storm of biblical proportions, consider your station. If you have what you need, and this storm is a cakewalk, be thankful, not cynical. Be safe and stay warm.
lyrics
On our vast and crowded islands
Huddled fast against the storm
It's hard to reckon what your truth is
And wait in line for something warm
You gotta hold on to something good
And on the eve of cataclysm
You hear how still the night can be
You gotta wonder about the silence
You've gotta linger on what it means
You gotta hold on to something good