This time of year.

What is it about the holidays that will simultaneously make you laugh + cry? When I was a kid (and not just at heart), it was all laughter and excitement and anticipation. I wasn't ignorant to the sentiment of the season - not at all. In fact, the solemnity of candlelight service on Christmas Eve was one of the most looked forward to events in my opinion. It's just that during those years the excitement of the season far outweighed the blues.

My sister was born on Christmas Eve. My grandparents were married on Christmas Eve (in 1938). In my house, there was always so much joy surrounding this time of year. And there still is. But as I've "grown a little leaner, grown a little colder" there's a tinge of sadness too. Maybe what it is, is awareness. 

Even though I fancied myself an in-the-know or self-aware kid, there was a degree of sheltering during my upbringing. Sure I knew poverty existed; understood there was sadness and negativity and pain in the world, but these notions didn't weigh on me daily. Then I hit the college age where I was - every college-aged kid is - decidedly unaware unless it was directly in front of my face. Unaware of anything beyond my own issues, exams, gossip, wish list, etc. Then with the passing years - mid twenties, late twenties and now early thirties - I looked back and realized time really does fly. You get to a certain age and realize the ways of the world, the haves, the have nots, the wins and losses. These realizations by no means overpower joy, but they do stand shoulder-to-shoulder with it sometimes. So much so that when that melancholy Christmas tune shuffles on the iPod your heart grows heavy, your eyes may tear and you give pause.

With Christmas coming at the close of the calendar year, it's a major moment for reflection. This year, in my world, there have been new friends, time spent with old friends, visits as precious as gold with my family and urban family, music, new opportunity, travel, laughter and celebration alongside lost friends, missed family members, health challenges, stress, a devastating hurricane, aching hearts and longing. It's this reflection that bring a little of the 'blues' to Christmas and the holiday season. 

And you know what? That's ok. To be aware, to be sensitive and sympathetic and caring and kind is a good thing. To pause during the holidays to reflect and remember and even mourn is ok. 'Tis the season, really. Just don't let that reflection overshadow the joy or steal the season. Remember to "haul out the holly, put up the tree before my spirit falls again, cause we need a little Christmas right this very minute."

And when it's over, we'll wipe the slate clean and start anew in 2013.

Merry Christmas y'all. 

New York, November 3rd.

In 2005 I sat in front of the television, unable to move, watching as the news of the devastation of Hurricane Katrina came pouring in. I sat in disbelief and in horror. And in sadness. I think I left the TV (on my own volition) once, to deliver 80% of our linen closet to the local Red Cross chapter to be driven to the Gulf. After the delivery, I came right back.

Now I’m living through Hurricane Sandy in lower Manhattan. While this devastation may not be as widespread, it is just that - devastation. Lives have been lost. Entire homes have been leveled. Millions are without the basic creature comforts we all rely on every day of electricity, water, and heat. There are many – too many – without food, drinking water and proper medical attention. There are some without candles to light the darkness that sets in early. As someone who has been rising and falling by candlelight, having none would mean a silent, black darkness that doesn’t just shroud the room but seeps into your soul. New York and New Jersey are suffering. And this time there’s no TV for me to sit in front of. This time there’s no news stream at which to stare in horror. This time, I am living it.

Let me tell you what else I’m living through up here, in the dark part of Manhattan, the part of the "two cities" deemed the ‘have nots.’ I’m witnessing acts of kindness, acts of love, super-human acts of community care and commitment to neighbors, to fellow New Yorkers. Chefs and restaurant owners are opening their kitchens – or what’s left – to feed their hungry neighbors. Volunteers are crossing boroughs, sometimes on foot, to lend a hand, a flashlight or a candle. Everyday, untrained citizens are becoming heroes, climbing tens of flights of stairs to deliver drinking water and food and light to trapped residents. Then many go home to unlit apartments, sleep through the night to do it all again.

New Yorkers are sharing stories over candlelight in businesses determined to be open – to be there. Neighbors are getting to know each other over generators as their phones charge to keep their loved ones updated. New Yorker’s have heart – lots of it. New Yorkers know community too. They take care of their own. They are resilient. They are strong. And they are hopeful. It should be said that I heard all this before I moved to the city, and believed it too, but now, as a New Yorker, I feel it and can say with conviction that it exists.

If you’ve been lucky enough to venture uptown for warmth, a shower and to recharge your life, you’ll see why the news media is calling New York “two cities.” It is as if nothing ever happened. Traffic lights work. There’s plenty of heat. You can get a coffee. Spend a few hours up here and you may think the same thing. Or, you may, like me, feel disoriented and a bit like a refugee. You may get even a little angry that half of the city’s inhabitants, many who already have so very little, are still in the dark and cold. I felt this way when I finally made it out for a few hours. And when I went back, my heart broke even more, but I knew I was home. Home among my community, my neighbors, my devastated neighborhood. You see, we are connected now – connected in our shared experience and efforts to normalize once again. That’s how home works.

In 2007 I finally got down to Katrina country and lent a hand rebuilding. It looked as if the storm had just come through even though two years had passed. Brace yourself New York, this is a marathon not a sprint. It won’t take me two years to get to work in New York. My urban family and I are organizing the troops to assist in our beloved East Village and Lower East Side homes today.

In the coming hours, days, weeks and months if you can help, please do. New York needs you right now. New Yorkers need you – us – right now.

Time to show just how much you heart New York. 

FDNY Engine 28, East 2nd St.

Just like autumn leaves.

Fall is my absolute favorite time in New York City. In any city to be honest. I can't help but feel it's a time of renewal and rebirth. Yes, I'm fully aware such words are typically associated with spring, but let me be frank, I'm not a massive fan of spring. I enjoy the fact that my shoulders are no longer a half-inch from my ears because of the cold, but I don't really love the year until May. But fall...fall owns my heart. And my wardrobe.

Last fall I spent a lot of time being sad. Nursing a heartache that I'm not sure was entirely worth it. The season change wasn't lost on me, but the personal change was. Not this year. Today marks the first really chilly day in New York, the first layering up (scarf, hat, big sweater) of items to protect against the cold. The air is crisp and, pardon the 'everything is rainbows' notion, all feels right.

I feel a change coming. I'm not sure what it is. I don't know what it may bring. But it's coming. 

And I can't wait.