One can learn things about oneself when confronted with nature's wrath, such as Hurricane Sandy which made its impressive mark on the East Coast this past week. What I learned, or remembered, is that I am not a New Englander. For the most part, I find it nearly impossible to relate to New Englanders. A Japanese-American college friend, from New York City, insists that, because people everywhere are different, people everywhere are the same. Not true. New Englanders are a wholly distinct specie from Midwesterners. And, being a Midwesterner, I long for home, especially when nature shows her wrath. There is a distinct form of selfishness (though they call it 'self-reliance') bred into New Englanders. It is a form of selfishness that, for all the talk of the value of community, is void of a real sense of community beyond one's own family, one's immediate tribe.
A very large limb (not a branch, a limb) broke off from the tree outside the condo where I live. It blocked the sidewalk. And, still leaning on the tree, continued to put stress on the tree itself and threatened to bring down the telephone and cable wires (which would have result in at least twenty-five percent of the street homes losing those services). It would be awhile before the city came around to remove it. So, I went out to see what I could do, if anything. Many people walked by, neighbors came out, while I attempted to remove the fallen limb. In two and one-half hours of effort, the only person who offered to help was a fellow Midwesterner. I felt I had come home.
