July 13, 1977: Where were you when the lights went out?

Holy crap is that awesome. and it explains so much.

I was one year, four months and six days old.

 

I was only exact because it was easy to count. If it had been before the 7th of any month, it would have been too much counting.

 

talking to my neighbor's dog

 

Washing the windshield of some Pinto.

 

I was 9. My dad was in the hospital, our dog had just run away and there were rumors that the blackout had been caused by a meltdown at Indian Point nuclear power plant (not to far away). I was very scared, for lots of reasons. I remember that summer very vividly, too, for lots of reasons. The city was so gritty then - Son of Sam, the looting, grafitti, crime on the subway. Shit, it's making me scared just thinking about it.

 

I was one year out of college, living in the Village (13th Street, between 7th and 8th). I think there were maybe 15 apartments in the building, and all the tenants were young. We went up to the roof to watch. The whole island didn't go dark at once; every minute, another cluster of blocks would shut down and it was fascinating to watch. Somebody yelled, "The beer in your fridges is getting warm." Everybody ran downstairs, grabbed their beer, and headed back to the roof. We didn't know what was going on elsewhere but, on that rooftop, it was a great party.


[Son of Sam aside: I'm a brunette, back then with waist-length hair. All the female victims to date had had long, dark hair. I'm standing in line at the supermarket checkout one day when the guy behind me grabs my hair and says, "You should cut this. It's not safe." Seriously freaked me out.]

 

Did you?

 

In my mother's womb.

However, I am fascinated by that year in NYC, partly thanks to The Bronx Is Burning, and the documentary that pops up on VH1 Classic from time to time, NY77: The Coolest Year In Hell.

 

That is one cool story. One of the many reasons I love this place.