To me the worst part of a hurricane is not the storm itself, but the aftermath. No matter what happens you are guaranteed to spend days of no electricity, extreme boredom, ennui, various amounts of clean up, muggy heat, and mosquitoes. On top of that is the annoying drone of generators none of which are yours, dammit.
As of yesterday none of my eighteen some odd relations in the gulf coast area had power. All are OK, no injuries, property damage, or anything of a serious or untoward nature happened. However, propriety requires that I wait at least a week before calling to use my best smug “I told you so” tone of voice and ask “betcha you’ll never do that again, huh?”
Why do we stay put for coming events that we know are going to range from mildly unpleasant to a potentially gruesome fatality? We’ve all done it. Women stay abusive relationships. A random idiot sees a funnel cloud approaching across a field and instead of running for cover, films it approaching, while muttering “oh shit” under their breath. Yes, yes we all have a morbid fascination with a disaster heading right towards us. Oooo, maybe this film smidgen will go viral on YouTube.
The trouble with Hurricanes is that they are rather uncooperative and refuse to fit themselves into an evening prime time spot on the Telly or a 30 second film on a social media site. Naming them after males instead of females has not made them any more dependable. These pesky disasters insist on dragging on and on. Long after brief attention spans have moved on to the latest titillating scandal or tragedy.
I have to say though, that I am impressed with the pre-staging of electricity repair trucks, Red Cross Aid, etc. Someone would have to be shot at dawn if that at the very least was not done in light of how horribly wrong the Katrina recover effort floundered 7 years ago.
Driving home from New Orleans to North Texas recently I took a side road for diversion. In the middle of nowhere I drove past what seemed like miles and miles of abandoned identical trailer homes. What I was seeing was trailers left over from Katrina that were never distributed. 2 of my relatives had their homes destroyed, but never “qualified” for the FEMA trailers. Now hundreds of these unused hulks sit in rural Louisiana slowly rusting away.
The logistics of administering aid to those in a crisis is obviously a complicated nightmare. I’m hoping this time for Isaac things go better and those who need help get help.
One thing that puzzles me though is why do people stay in a place that is routinely wiped off map? Part of it, I assume, is that it is not that easy to pick up your entire life and relocate it elsewhere. Greater minds than mine have puzzled this through the ages. Living in Pompeii was probably pretty rockin’ right up until the end.
Sat on our lovely patio last night watching the sun set and listening to the cicadas gossip. Is my entire immediate family is going to drown tomorrow night? Well, I certainly hope not. And just for the record it won’t be my doing if it happens!
Hurricane Isaac is lumbering his fat ass towards the Gulf coast. On this particular coastal area dwells my mother, 3 sisters, 2 brothers, brother-in-law, 8 nephews and 2 nieces, an unborn set of grand-niece or nephew twins, and the 8 kids of one of the nephews. All of them have decided to “ride it out.” That’s amounts to approximately 18 relatives that, at the moment, I want to strangle. They have a standing invitation to come to my house if they decide to evacuate, but I understand that driving from New Orleans to North Texas with a car full of relatives and emergency supplies is not at the top of the fun things to do list.
This is the ultimate test by the cosmos of my personal belief that people have the right to make their own decisions regardless of how wacky I think the decision is. I must, I must, I must increase my bust. Oops, got off track there. What I must do is remain positive, cheerful and resist the urge to call them all every hour on the hour and scream into the phone “ARE YOU OUT OF YER EFFIN MIND?”
Hurricane Katrina is still a fresh memory. One of my sisters went missing for 3 weeks and I nearly lost my mind. According to Google Earth her 2 story house was completely underwater. She finally turned up in storm shelter in Jackson, Mississippi. I was going to get in the car and drive there to look for her. The Hubman put his foot down at that point and said if she didn’t turn up soon that he’d hire a private investigator to find her.
So I sit with eyes glued to the Weather Channel. I think it’s going to be OK except for a lot of water. I trust my sister’s husband enough to make the right decisions to keep them all safe. Hopefully the worst that happens to them is they end up not speaking to each other for a month after being trapped together in a house for 3 days of wind and rain.