And they asked, "How can I help?"

In these last two days before the storm started in earnest, I heard a report
on the news that said that so many people were calling Milford's emergency 
operations saying they wanted to help, they had to turn many of them away. 

One of my most vivid memories when our old house flooded in 1992, was my brother
floating on a piece of wood under our house, pulling out insulation that had
filled with gasoline. People's small gas tanks, for filling lawnmowers, had floated 
free in the flood waters and mingled with the salt water. It was December, raw, 
cold, and picnic benches, plastic toys, pieces of fence bobbed around in what 
lingered as knee-deep water.  There he was with my husband,  in the cold water under
the house, helping in a way we could never forget. That was just one way 
people pulled for people in that neighborhood all those years ago, neighbors, 
family, friends and strangers asking, "What do you need?"
" What can I do?" 

It's what is already happening now before the brunt of the storm hits. They're  
stepping right in for others up and down the coastline, turning to people 
they know and people they don't, asking that same question, "What can I do?"   

Late last night the movie Seabiscuit was on.  The main character is hungry and
has been for such a long time, for the same things so many others hungered 
for in the time of the Great Depression, a good meal, work, respect and 
human connection. He is offered work and a chance and a big bowl of soup. 
He digs in. 

And the narrative voice says:
"They called it "relief" but it was a lot more than that. 
It had dozens of names...W.P.A., the C.C.C.
But it really came down to just one thing.
For the first time in a long time, someone cared. 
For the first time in a long time, you were no longer alone."