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Health & Fitness

Hurricane Musings

The Lost Towne Laker muses on the passing storms.

I wish I had a front porch. I wish I had a covered back deck. Instead, I sit in my garage, looking out at the gray, wet sky. It’s nice. Yes, I’m one of those. I love days that are gray and overcast. I love the dark, billowy clouds. And today’s weather reminds me that fall is coming.

Rain. We really need it. Sure, I could have turned on my sprinklers, but I spent all my money having them installed and don’t have enough left to run them.

Well, there go the sirens. Okay, I tell the kids to stop yelling and go to the basement. They each grab their most important items, what they hold dearest to their heart. My son grabs an armful of juice boxes and my daughter reaches into the fridge and grabs—a stack of pancakes? Breakfast leftovers? Yeah, that surprises me as well. But she also grabs a doll. My wife grabs our dog, Mitzi.  I grab my laptop and cell phone.

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I’m from Florida, south Florida, actually. I’ve seen a few hurricanes, although I left before Andrew. But here in the foothills of Appalachia, we aren’t supposed to get anything but rain from a hurricane. Someone needs to tell Lee about this.

We get lots of tornadoes around here, and I remember we had a hurricane come through in the mid-90s. It did some damage around here. Sure, I know. It’s usually a tropical depression by the time it gets to us.

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I turn on the basement TV.

“Wow,” I tell my wife. “Our street is on the news! Look, we’re famous.”

She is not as excited.

Now the wind is howling. The trees are swaying, snapping madly back and forth.  The rain is sideways. I listen for the hail, but don’t hear it.

My kids don’t understand the danger, even though we try to herd them away from the outside walls and windows. Debris flies by. It’s my umbrella, I left it out front.  Leaves, branches, other items scoot along the ground.

I crack open the door  The wind is so loud!

“You can’t hear it,” I tell them, “but the sirens started again.”

Poor Mitzi. She’s scared and runs back up the stairs. My children are poised to chase after her. It’s just like in the movies, where they are hiding from the monster, the dog runs out, and some goofy kid runs after it and they all get eaten.

But the heart of the storm is upon us now. I don’t have the presence of mind to snap a few pictures. I just keep telling the kids to get back. They want to run to a window.

My mind flashes on the same thing that probably goes through the minds of most men at a time like this. If I ordered a pizza now, should I tip the driver more than usual?

It’s over fairly quick. My wife calls some friends to check on them. Their back door was shattered and a branch went through the side of their house. And their neighbor lost a roof.

More storms are coming, so we keep the kids downstairs. My wife decides it’s a good time to clean the basement. She puts me to work.

But soon another “red spot” closes in on us. Darkness sets in. The rains come again. Predictably, the power goes out. This is the part where someone decides to go outside and investigate, and gets eaten by zombies.

Rule No. 1, find batteries for the flashlights before the storm hits. No, wait. Rule No. 1 is find the flashlights before the storm hits. They are in my kids’ fort they made out of boxes, left on, of course.

The second half of the storm never materializes. We soon realize it’s all over. In with a bang, out with a whimper, I suppose.

The power comes back on within a few hours. But there are many people in this area with more to worry about than that.

We are lucky, except I have no good photos. What a wasted opportunity. But I take some shots of my creek which looks dangerous at the moment. I hope the rest of Woodstock fared as well.

OK, back to my musings. I sit on the deck to enjoy the sky. It’s muggy. Fall may be coming, but it’s technically still summer. The gray, billowing clouds are racing across the sky. Night sets in  A cool breeze wafts by, finally blowing away the mugginess left from the storm.

Nothing more to write.

- The Lost Towne Laker

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