"​The Great Dig Out: A Newcomer's Experience of the New York Storm"

Harlem in snowfall—where memory labors and Baldwin’s ghost walks with the shovelers.

The Storm's Aftermath in New York City
The start of the great dig out was exhilarating—especially for someone new to New York and unaccustomed to witnessing such an intense storm unfold in just 24 hours. Rather than feeling overwhelmed, I found myself embracing every moment. Even when traversing certain parts of the city proved difficult, I pressed on and explored anyway.

In Marcus Garvey Park, I saw a couple lying together in the snowstorm, occasionally sitting up to take selfies. They were well-prepared, bundled in insulated puffer coats and scarves. Nearby, parents watched as their children sledded down the park’s steep hillsides.

On 125th Street, kids from less affluent backgrounds improvised with cardboard boxes, sliding joyfully through Harlem’s snowy streets. Groups of men, each armed with shovels, eagerly sought work—clearing inches of snow from brownstones and storefronts. The cold and snow couldn’t dampen New York’s spirit.

The city carried on, undeterred, and that energy resonated deeply with me. In the Big Apple, people are always out and about, no matter the elements.

Community Effort in Peekskill
Peekskill mirrored that same spirit of resilience and collaboration. On Nelson Avenue and Central Avenue, large sections of road were closed so workers and volunteers could clear snow and assist stranded vehicles. The entire community seemed to rise together to meet the storm’s aftermath.

A Sense of Belonging
Witnessing these communal efforts was a sight to behold, and I feel grateful to be part of it. I’d gladly join the shoveling—just as I’ve done before, even when it meant blisters on my fingers. The shared determination and camaraderie in both New York City and Peekskill are inspiring, and they make me eager to contribute.

As I finish this entry, I’m glad to see much of North Division Street and Nelson Avenue cleared. But the work continues, with another storm in the forecast for this weekend. And even now, tiny snowflakes are already dancing outside my window—fluttering like confetti in a winter carnival.

​Carnival is on my mind, thanks to Black Orpheus, the English-dubbed version I watched this morning. It kicked me into motion with smiling and a little dancing too, all before noon. And so, I return to fiction—indoors at my desk, where it’s warmer, and the snow keeps swirling like a samba of the season.