Hurricane! by Nancy L. Eady

To those of you in Florida, Georgia and northwards coping with Hurricane Helene, please know that the thoughts and prayers of all of us are with you. Should you be lucky enough to have access to power and internet while you’re coping, a big if, I have a couple of tips for you. First, when your power is out, don’t get frustrated when you flip the light switch on every time you walk in the room. Your brain knows nothing will happen, but your muscle memory runs deeper on instinct. Most of our brains aren’t quick enough to override it, even when the power has been out for days. Second, a tip I learned from my sister, almost everything can be cooked on a grill. When you reach the point where everyone’s meat in the freezer has thawed to the point of no return, you might as well grill it all and through a huge block party. Third, a most important tip for coffee lovers my father, who lives in South Florida and once hugged a coffee maker he got as a gift, taught me—coffee can be brewed in water you bring to a boil over a grill. I’m not exactly sure how, but it is possible. 

I have been through two hurricanes, both inland. The worst was Hurricane Opal. Hurricane Opal made landfall on the Gulf Coast as a Category Four hurricane and swept northward through the State of Alabama. At the time, we lived in a small town about five hours away from the Gulf; Opal was still a Category One hurricane when it swept through our area, much like Helene is forecast to do in southern Georgia. 

The morning before Hurricane Opal arrived, I happened to catch a weather report and pay attention to it. (Living that far away from the coast, hurricanes were something we noticed but they normally didn't impact us.) The weather people were saying that this storm was going to be different from anything we’d seen before and that even in our area, homeowners needed to bring in loose objects, such as lawn chairs and potted plants, which the wind could use as projectiles once the hurricane arrived. So, for the first (and so far last) time ever, I went home at lunch and brought in every single potted plant and lawn chair, and got Mark, when he got home, to tie down the porch swing and table. Then we waited.

Really, I should say, then I waited, as Mark and both of my faithful protectors at the time, our dogs Shadow and Woof, were fast asleep by nine. At ten, before any wind or rain arrived, the power went off. About an hour later, the rain started to pour down. I started to hear an unusual sound, so I went to check on it.  The rain was leaking into the house through the free-standing fireplace we had at the time. I pulled out towels and cups to catch the rain, and then went back to bed. I didn’t get much sleep; I lay in bed, watching the pine trees outside bending until their tops were horizontal to the ground, and hearing a persistent thumping somewhere against what I thought was the house. I also wondered if the huge sycamore tree towering over the side of the house would survive. The dogs never woke up. Mark says he did and watched the trees for a while too, but neither one of us said anything.

Shadow and Woof, my sleepy but fearless protectors

Morning finally came, as it always does, and the storm had blown through. (Opal’s one saving grace was that she was a fast mover.) There was a lot of damage around town; oaks, especially, had been blown over onto houses. One two-story house was completely demolished by one. 

We were fortunate; not only was the sycamore tree still standing tall in the morning, but the thumping turned out to be our tied down outdoor table, which had managed to flip itself over the deck rail during the night. The thumping was the sound of the table hitting the deck, not the house. The deck survived just fine. We were without power for probably five days, but it could have been worse. (I will admit, however, that by day three I was starting to get really frustrated.) Areas along the gulf, like Panama City, Destin and Mobile, suffered so much more damage.

So that’s my big hurricane story. I hope wherever you are in the path of the storm you stay safe, and your damage is minimal. And help is on the way; we’ve already seen the power trucks from our area driving to the staging areas where they will start the recovery efforts.