The great humbler
In the early days of the "October surprise" snow storm, Buffalo residents exulted in the wonderful community spirit of cooperation and self-help. Mayor Brown gloated over the normalcy of crime statistics, and residents asserted to national media reporters that here, there was no looting or violence.
Unfortunately for all this sanctimony, Buffalo residents get just as cranky as anyone else at delayed or incompetent relief efforts. There were reports of citizens pelting utility trucks with snowballs and other projectiles, hoping perhaps that such persuasive behavior would lead to an early restoration of electricity. Looting broke out, and in addition to whatever staples were seized by the parents of hungry children, other essentials were stolen: burglars took $10,000 worth of polo shirts from O'Connell Lucas Chelf, including 150 Lacoste shirts; thieves took jackets, jeans, cigars, watches, and $400 cash from Sabri Supply Shop; and -- my personal favorite -- someone broke the front window at the Rent-A-Center at 1445 Kensington Avenue and made off with a video game valued at $750. The story of just how, exactly, the video game comes to be valued at $750 will explain why this particular burglary is low on my list of crimes to solve.
The prize for the most creative criminal activity goes to scam artists who went door-to-door in Erie County claiming to be Federal Emergency Management Agency contractors negotiating debris removal and collecting a deposit from homeowners. County officials reacted to this news with what is surely a contender for this year's Golden Understatement Trophy: "FEMA representatives do not go door to door."
Indeed they do not. What FEMA officials do is land at the airport, jump into the waiting cars of the embattled Republican Congressman Tom Reynolds (named by Republican Governor Pataki as point man for the region's FEMA appeal), speed off to Williamsville and Lancaster to tour the damaged golf courses and day spas, all without so much as a by your leave from the Buffalo mayor. Ah, every day a reason to love them more!
The perennially law-abiding professoriate channelled its frustrations into poetry. Latinist Neil Coffee inaugurated a storm-related haiku series:
My basement is a site of devastation and mourning, for it is not clear that its most precious contents can be rescued. Sears will deliver a new clothes dryer tomorrow, but there's no replacing Reham's tiny pink and white leather oxfords, Ghazi's luxurious baby-sized terry-cloth bathrobe; a pink sundress; the overalls Ghazi was wearing when he petted the goat. And the favorite toy, Big Bird, revived just as Reham turns 21. The moments preserved in these objects risk dying with them. It is not a matter of learning to let go of material objects, but rather of losing the moments that constitute a life.
Of the several local personalities assigned to the weather sub-speciality of infotainment, the one who actually takes it seriously is Don Paul, the WIVB-TV meteorologist who has held court every winter for 22 years. But when he failed to call this storm, his morale inspired concern. "I feel upset with myself," he confessed. "I'm very disappointed in my work." He added: "Nature is the great humbler."
I had my own humbling encounter yesterday afternoon, on my bike, when an errant storm-related branch suddenly attacked my front wheel and arrested its rotation, utterly without regard for the considerable momentum of the rest of the bike and its passenger. The accident happened so quickly that it's hard to reconstruct anything, but I imagine it looked something like this, only much faster, and without the satisfaction of being able to hit anyone with a stick:
I landed face-first on the concrete, and was quite stunned for several minutes. I called out for help; drivers had seen me land on the shoulder of the busy road, a bike on top of me and one foot caught in the chain. No one stopped, but as they all sped past, they peered curiously into their rear-view mirrors, hoping for a little gore. The people living in the closest house came out and called an ambulance. They also called Reham, who was at work just a block away at Bocce's. "Ya mutha has been in an accident, and she has blood coming from her mouth." Later, when Reham recovered from hearing this news in this way, she had a pizza sent to the family.
The EMTs said I had a broken nose and possibly other bad things, so they strapped me to a board and hauled me to Erie County Medical Center's ER, which seemed quite a competent operation. I confessed to the EMTs and the Amherst policeman that the indifferent motorists had shaken my faith in human nature. "Don't get me started on human nature," replied the cop. My mood improved when I met my ER doctor, Markintosh Barthelemy from Haiti by way of Jersey, who smalltalked in French as he checked for a concussion or broken vertebrae. "T'as bien fait de mettre le casque," he said approvingly. Yep, without that dorky helmet, this could have been worse than humbling. I'm renting myself out now to local parents who want to impress helmet values on their cool children.
My students had a hard time concentrating on part III of "Un coeur simple" -- surely nine of the most beautifully written pages in the history of language -- because their professor looked so strange. Tomorrow I may wear a Halloween mask, just to be rid of the distraction.
Moi before:
Moi after:
There's no way around it, though. Despite the loss of a bike, a strange exhaustion, soreness all over, bruises and cuts and a face too swollen to wear goggles just yet, I sure do feel lucky. Not pretty, just lucky. And humble. Maybe I'll go find Don Paul at a bar.
Unfortunately for all this sanctimony, Buffalo residents get just as cranky as anyone else at delayed or incompetent relief efforts. There were reports of citizens pelting utility trucks with snowballs and other projectiles, hoping perhaps that such persuasive behavior would lead to an early restoration of electricity. Looting broke out, and in addition to whatever staples were seized by the parents of hungry children, other essentials were stolen: burglars took $10,000 worth of polo shirts from O'Connell Lucas Chelf, including 150 Lacoste shirts; thieves took jackets, jeans, cigars, watches, and $400 cash from Sabri Supply Shop; and -- my personal favorite -- someone broke the front window at the Rent-A-Center at 1445 Kensington Avenue and made off with a video game valued at $750. The story of just how, exactly, the video game comes to be valued at $750 will explain why this particular burglary is low on my list of crimes to solve.
The prize for the most creative criminal activity goes to scam artists who went door-to-door in Erie County claiming to be Federal Emergency Management Agency contractors negotiating debris removal and collecting a deposit from homeowners. County officials reacted to this news with what is surely a contender for this year's Golden Understatement Trophy: "FEMA representatives do not go door to door."
Indeed they do not. What FEMA officials do is land at the airport, jump into the waiting cars of the embattled Republican Congressman Tom Reynolds (named by Republican Governor Pataki as point man for the region's FEMA appeal), speed off to Williamsville and Lancaster to tour the damaged golf courses and day spas, all without so much as a by your leave from the Buffalo mayor. Ah, every day a reason to love them more!
The perennially law-abiding professoriate channelled its frustrations into poetry. Latinist Neil Coffee inaugurated a storm-related haiku series:
fridge stands wide open
only condiments remain
mustard and ketchup.
fickle bucket truck
driven far from Ohio
what will entice you?
My basement is a site of devastation and mourning, for it is not clear that its most precious contents can be rescued. Sears will deliver a new clothes dryer tomorrow, but there's no replacing Reham's tiny pink and white leather oxfords, Ghazi's luxurious baby-sized terry-cloth bathrobe; a pink sundress; the overalls Ghazi was wearing when he petted the goat. And the favorite toy, Big Bird, revived just as Reham turns 21. The moments preserved in these objects risk dying with them. It is not a matter of learning to let go of material objects, but rather of losing the moments that constitute a life.
Of the several local personalities assigned to the weather sub-speciality of infotainment, the one who actually takes it seriously is Don Paul, the WIVB-TV meteorologist who has held court every winter for 22 years. But when he failed to call this storm, his morale inspired concern. "I feel upset with myself," he confessed. "I'm very disappointed in my work." He added: "Nature is the great humbler."
I had my own humbling encounter yesterday afternoon, on my bike, when an errant storm-related branch suddenly attacked my front wheel and arrested its rotation, utterly without regard for the considerable momentum of the rest of the bike and its passenger. The accident happened so quickly that it's hard to reconstruct anything, but I imagine it looked something like this, only much faster, and without the satisfaction of being able to hit anyone with a stick:
I landed face-first on the concrete, and was quite stunned for several minutes. I called out for help; drivers had seen me land on the shoulder of the busy road, a bike on top of me and one foot caught in the chain. No one stopped, but as they all sped past, they peered curiously into their rear-view mirrors, hoping for a little gore. The people living in the closest house came out and called an ambulance. They also called Reham, who was at work just a block away at Bocce's. "Ya mutha has been in an accident, and she has blood coming from her mouth." Later, when Reham recovered from hearing this news in this way, she had a pizza sent to the family.
The EMTs said I had a broken nose and possibly other bad things, so they strapped me to a board and hauled me to Erie County Medical Center's ER, which seemed quite a competent operation. I confessed to the EMTs and the Amherst policeman that the indifferent motorists had shaken my faith in human nature. "Don't get me started on human nature," replied the cop. My mood improved when I met my ER doctor, Markintosh Barthelemy from Haiti by way of Jersey, who smalltalked in French as he checked for a concussion or broken vertebrae. "T'as bien fait de mettre le casque," he said approvingly. Yep, without that dorky helmet, this could have been worse than humbling. I'm renting myself out now to local parents who want to impress helmet values on their cool children.
My students had a hard time concentrating on part III of "Un coeur simple" -- surely nine of the most beautifully written pages in the history of language -- because their professor looked so strange. Tomorrow I may wear a Halloween mask, just to be rid of the distraction.
Moi before:
Moi after:
There's no way around it, though. Despite the loss of a bike, a strange exhaustion, soreness all over, bruises and cuts and a face too swollen to wear goggles just yet, I sure do feel lucky. Not pretty, just lucky. And humble. Maybe I'll go find Don Paul at a bar.
posted by amerune at 4:37 PM
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