Storm Sandy's Side Show

The hurricane Sandy, dubbed Frankenstorm, weakened somewhat when it reached here in New York City last Monday.  If it brought a howling gale and driving rain, I was not aware of them as I slept through Monday night; I noticed only occasional gust of wind the next morning that only now and then shook the skinny gingko across the street from my window.  I had light; and I had water.  The residents along the water’s edge in Lower Manhattan were mandatorily evacuated, and we soon learned of the tremendous water damage in the subway system and the total power down south of 39th Street. On Sunday, anticipating Sandy’s arrival, I was imagining that Tatzu Nishi’s installation, “Discovering Columbus,” a modern living built around the statue of Columbus six stories above Columbus Circle, to which I had a timed ticket at noon on Monday, would be shaky and exciting, but, not surprisingly, the admission was promptly cancelled.  Then, musing on the plays I was booked to attend, I was amused how appropriate it was that Monday night I had Stephen Belber’s new play “Don’t Go Gentle,” which draws the title from Dylan Thomas’ familiar poem which goes: “Do not go gentle into that good night,/Old age should burn and rave in at close of day;/Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”  The play was cancelled and I was able to reschedule it to Saturday; so the Tuesday fare was even more fittingly “Happy with Wild” at Public Theater; but this was also eventually cancelled.  I looked forward to the opportunity Wednesday evening of hurtling myself into the raging tempest to get to Lincoln Center for the opera at the Met, which in ironic coincidence was Thomas Adès’ The Tempest, or, if the storm by then had subsided, I thought I could at least adventurously wander through the dark forest of the Central Park to Prospero’s isle since all the public transportation in the city was shut down on Sunday at 7:00 p.m.  Lady Sandy by then had come and gone, alas, and busses started running Wednesday.  By Thursday, it was clear that such musings were frivolous when we learned that the entire Lower Manhattan remained dark -- no power, no light, no phone, no radio/TV, no internet, no hot water or even cold water where the pump to send water to upper floors of high rise apartments stopped working, and no bus and no subway.  As of Friday, the power has not returned yet and the subway was only partially restored.  Living in the Upper (Far) East Side, I was fortunate.