When the Heavy Stuff Comes Down

We don’t get many cyclones here in Central Jersey. There’s a time for everything, though.

Four inches of rain and powerful winds can do terrible things, and they did just that in the New York City area yesterday. Mother Nature brought her torrent of tears to our backyard as well, and she wasn’t willing to negotiate. When the soil had held all the moisture it could contain, the water began streaming up through our basement’s foundation. We pleaded with her to stop, but her lack of cooperation left us with no choice: We pulled out the heavy artillery, plugged in the Shop-Vac, and got to work.

Mother’s response was simple: Shop-Vac this, buddy. No machinery, towels or buckets were going to stem this flow of water. We felt like Little Leaguers up at bat against Johan Santana. As the water rose and spread, the goal became simple: Save the basement. So we did.

By 3 a.m., when the rain had finally subsided, the dozens of gallons of water we’d cleaned up were all safely streaming down the drain. Our carpet is toast, but the basement lives on to see another daylight savings time. Compared to many others in our area, we were very lucky. Amy and I stumbled to bed, and morning arrived far too quickly.

As I was scrambling to mop and sweep and vacuum last night, I found myself thinking quite a lot about my brothers and sisters in Haiti, Chile, New Orleans and Indonesia, who in recent days, months and years have endured exponentially worse conditions due to natural disasters. I was trying to salvage some carpet strips we had bought at Home Depot; the earthquakes, hurricanes and tsunamis we’ve all seen and read about mercilessly swept aside homes, cars and, of course, lives.

I have no real idea what it’s like to live through a true natural disaster. But there was one moment in the middle of the night when I believe I got a small glimpse. Amy and I have had more stress than we’d like in recent weeks – lack of sleep due to our new puppy, winter illnesses in the house, many inches of snow to remove, dual work schedules, and stuff everywhere as the bathroom gets renovated. It’s been hard to find any time to connect and really talk with each other. As a result, we’ve both had much shorter fuses lately.

But at three in the morning, after five hours of fighting this force much stronger than us, it was clear that we had worked incredibly well together, and had prevented this problem from becoming so much worse. It’s not the first time we’ve found strength in each other and endured something difficult together. It’s what we vowed to do 14½ years ago, and what we’d gladly vow to do again today.

What’s more, it’s what anyone who cares for another will do in the face of extreme challenge. Maybe that’s why, amidst all the deep sorrow and mourning in Haiti, I’ve seen photos of individuals smiling and hugging each other. In their eyes, you see the message: We’re still alive, and we’re helping each other find a way to tomorrow. When you’ve found a way through the darkness by holding the hand of another, it seems that there’s a special kind of grace to that. And these moments of peace might just carry along a clarity, perspective and fellowship that you had misplaced somewhere.

Before the storm, Amy and I were complaining about losing the hour to daylight savings time. We were hoping to squeeze in some time to watch “The Hurt Locker,” but we worried that the lost hour and our puppy’s wakeup time would make a mess of that.

Mother Nature took care of that “problem,” and Kathryn Bigelow’s film will wait until another day. But at 3 a.m., as we stood on the cold tile floor of our basement, Amy and I couldn’t have cared less about watching a movie.

We had made it through. Together. So we turned to each other, in between the furnace and the slop sink, and embraced. Not quite Best Picture material, but at the moment it did just fine.

Winners & Winners

So now they’ve got 10 movies nominated for Best Picture. And I couldn’t even begin to tell you which one should win.

There was a day, back in the years B.C. (Before Children), when I had easily seen all the Best Picture nominees by the time the Academy Awards were handed out. Not only that, but I’d also watched the more deserving films that the Oscars had failed to even nominate. I could sit there with my wife, my brother or my mom and debate the merits of each race while Billy Crystal danced on stage. “Shakespeare in Love” over “Saving Private Ryan” and “The Thin Red Line”? Are you kidding? “Gladiator” over “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” and “Traffic”? How can this be? “American Beauty” wins the award, but “Magnolia” isn’t even granted a nomination? What were they thinking?

Yes, those were the days when Amy and I would drive into the city on a weekend night to see a film that was playing in limited release. We might meet some friends for dinner, then all head over to the movies together. Afterward, we’d grab some ice cream and discuss the film. When March came around, we’d all talk about the Oscars, fiercely defending our own personal favorites.

That might has well have been a million years ago. The seismic shift from B.C. to A.F. (“Anno Fatigo” – In the Year of our Fatigue) only happened eight years ago, but the advent of parenthood has drastically altered our movie-going habits. Amy and I try, once or twice a month, to watch a movie together at home on a Saturday night. We search the library or video store for films that are 90 minutes or less, in the hopes that we will actually make it all the way through without falling asleep. More often than not, we still wind up watching the movie over two nights because one or both of us drifted off midway through the film. It’s kind of pathetic.

Every once in a while, though, that golden opportunity arises. Either my parents are over on a weekend night, or we’ve actually managed to get ourselves a babysitter. We kiss the girls goodnight, grab some Thai food or pizza, then make our way to the movie theater. Amy orders a large Coke, I end up drinking most of it, and we savor a couple hours of escapism.

These movie moments are rare enough that even with 10 nominees this year, we can only claim to have seen two. And one of those – the Pixar film “Up” – we saw with the girls. The only one we saw together on a date night was “Up in the Air,” which of course we enjoyed – but, really, we don’t have much with which to compare it.

Maybe we’ll get around to seeing “Avatar” or “Precious” or “The Hurt Locker” sooner or later. But when the awards are given out next month, we won’t be able to judge them all equally. Which means we’re going to have to watch the Oscars just for the fun of it, without all the rooting.

And you know, it’s actually a pretty cool feeling to watch a competition and not really care who wins. Last spring, Katie and I spent a few weekend hours watching college softball games on ESPN. We sat there together, talking about how you play the game, how cool the uniforms looked, and how the girls all kept their hair in ponytails. But whether Arizona beat Tennessee, or vice-versa? Just didn’t matter. No sweating over each out, like Katie’s dad might do with a Yankees playoff game. No butterflies in the stomach with Mariano on the mound. Just fun. Eventually, we felt inspired enough to go out in the backyard and have our own catch. To us, it was a game of winners and winners.

So as the Oscar debates rage on for the next month, Amy and I will follow all the hoopla. But we won’t be in on the water-cooler debates this time. We’re Switzerland on this one.

Our opinions are up in the air. Our spirits are up. Good luck with the envelopes.