Storm Watch

A cornucopia of emotions thanks to my bi-coastal existence, which is heralded every single day on the top of this blog.

Spending 25% of my year in New York, I guess I have been lucky.  I wasn't there for 9/11.  I missed several huge blizzards.  And, now, I can say I was fortunate enough to miss Hurricane Sandy.

In an odd way, I have regrets.  I do miss the constant reminders from Mother Nature.  And, oh, yeah, some pesky terrorists flying planes.  Weather in Los Angeles is generally beautiful.  You have your rainy and cold periods during the winter, but, by and large, most of your days are presented proudly by the Southern California Chamber of Commerce.  

No snow, except for those flakes adorning the mountaintops to the east.  Or the Paramount Studios logo.

Rare thunder and lightning appearances.  If Ben Franklin had lived in Encino, we all would still be reading by candlelight.

And, when it gets super windy, the weather is actually hot, not cold, thanks to the Santa Ana winds.  I can't enjoy those breezes.  Every allergen in the air is swirled around and I simply take one Allegra and hide in my walk-in closet.

So I watch a storm like Sandy and I'm strangely envious all over again.

Until I actually witness its full fury.

In our instantaneous worlds today, you're now never more than a keystroke away from activities 3 or 3,000 miles away.  On Monday, I streamed Channel 2 WCBS on my computer all day.  Then, at night, I watched New York local market news coverage.  When there are weather emergencies anywhere in the country, Direct TV does a wonderful thing.   They flip one of their back channels to those cities and the news reporting they provide.  So, I was literally viewing Channels 2, 4, and 7 as if I was back in Westchester.  Indeed, I was watching the coverage that many folks there without power could not see.

There goes a Jersey pier.

What's that sticking out of the ocean?  A roller coaster?

Salt water flooding the New York subway system.  Umm, that can't be good for an electrical transit system built over 100 years ago. 

And the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel is only passable if your local scuba diver has an EZ-Pass.

The images kept on coming. 

A Chelsea apartment building tears apart.

It looks like the original set for Alfred Hitchcock's "Rear Window."

Meanwhile, out at Laguardia Airport, where there are major delays if a mechanic spits on the tarmac...

What time does that gondola leave for Boston?

I look at the devastation and realize there is a human face behind it.   This goes way beyond enjoying the local TV reporting boob getting blown from one side of 57th Street to the other.

I hear of people without power.  Maybe for weeks.

I hear of a good friend's sister whose Long Island home is now uninhabitable and never will be again.

I check on other friends who are all fine.  My childhood county of Westchester seems to be okay.  I call my neighbor at the apartment building I reside in there.  They never lost power and have their own generator anyway.  Surrounded on one side by a nature preserve and the other by a view of the Hudson River, she told me that the storm provided quite a show. 

But, seeing it all, the envy in my heart and mind disappeared.  I was glad to be safe and dry in the refreshingly boring climate of Los Angeles. 

I went to my closet and sought out my emergency earthquake kit.  I need to get that refreshed.  Those protein bars are likely from the Clinton administration.

Or maybe I will be lucky when the big one hits and that's the 25% of the year where I will be watching the building collapses from New York.

Indeed, wherever and whenever, I am lucky to be living  in the two greatest cities of our nation.  And my heart is big enough to care about both of them.

Dinner last night:  Beef French Dip sandwich at Cole's in downtown LA.