Nor'easter Didn't Deter Occupy Wall Street!

October 29th weather forecast in New York City. Historic and rare October Nor'easter: snow, sleet, wind. Temperature range around 35 degrees during the day, 32 degrees overnight. Wind chill makes it feel like 23 degrees. Snow accumulations could be two inches. Winds at 20-30 mph, wind gusts could be 40 mph. (Weather Channel)

But "neither snow nor sleet nor rain nor hail" are stopping the Occupy Wall Street protestors at Zuccotti Park. (New York Times) Today, they attempted, despite all odds, to remain warm and dry in the rare October storm which blasted through their environs, whipping tents and tree branches and dumping mixtures of sleet and wet snow on their already wet heads. And they are doing the same in the evening which has been forecast to be colder, snowier and windier.
Shivering in the wet, I walked through Zuccotti, umbrella overhead, camera at the ready, picking up snatches of conversation here and there. One young man covered in a yellow slicker and hoodie discussed how he was born in the protests of the feminist movement, his mother taking him to marches and sit-ins. He was used to activism and appreciated its power. When asked where his mother was now, he responded that she was out west and had "gotten religion." He said he didn't own property and lived with friends in Florida. He said he was at Zuccotti protesting because, "He was pissed." 
Walking along the pathway under tarps and between the tents where protestors had sought an uncomfortable shelter from the relentless blustering wind and damp, I saw organizers moving to and fro reminding the occupiers to check up on their neighbors to make sure they were doing OK. A medical tent had been set up to help those who might be overcome by the cold or who had other issues that needed attention .Others stood getting coffee and food. It was remarkable to me that they had the stamina and the courage to be there. Their presence heartened me, yet I was worried for them in such conditions.
 
I bumped into folks moving on the pathway. All were courteous to "the stranger." They wanted to be there, despite conditions and had prepared themselves for taking this stand, regardless: "neither snow, nor sleet, nor hail, nor wind, nor cold." Some were attempting to clean areas. Others were delivering boards and other materials so that they wouldn't have to place sleeping bags on wet concrete. Water was running everywhere, it seemed.
As I made my way along an exit route, I spoke to another young man in a blue slicker, hair dripping, no hoodie or hat, obviously cold, certainly preoccupied, but he stopped for a moment to chat. He told me he was from Charlotte, North Carolina. I told him he was supported by many folks and thanked him for what he was doing. He smiled and confided that he was trying to get an air mattress or some material to get off the wet pavement so he would be drier during the night.
As I exited, I saw others pulling out boards and readying themselves for the long, cold, untenable darkness. I scrambled back into my car, my feet were wet, my umbrella bent misshapen from the wind. I immediately  turned on the heater. They don't have that benefit. But as some would say, that is their choice. I wish it were that easy.
They are a determined bunch, these occupiers. The longer they stay, the firmer their resolve seems to be. But they certainly don't see that they have won. They have not gotten what they have come there for. And they are staying. 

Maybe what drives them was best summed up by one of the folks who was sweeping and cleaning within the barriers set up to protect the protestors and insure free passage on the public sidewalk on Church Street. I saw him arranging things, his back to me. I stopped at the light before the corner of Church Street and rolled down the window to take a picture of him, when I heard him singing, a tune, familiar, from an old musical, and he was somehow cheerful yet plaintive in the cold and drear.
What was he singing? "The sun'll come out, tomorrow..."   Little Orphan Annie's song of hope. And I was reminded, in a way we are all orphans in a storm. Some are just better able to handle the cold and the want. I am not one of them.