You have to feel that way
A few weeks ago, Lee called me and said that "Tropical Storm Harold" was moving toward the east coast, and I was horrified: how had we gotten all the way to Named Storm H without my noticing? I remember Hurricane A, but how did I miss Hurricanes B through G?
Then he said maybe he misheard. Maybe it was Tropical Storm Carol. I felt better; missing one hurricane is probably not a big deal.
Turns out it was Beryl. I didn't miss anything.
When you live in a Gulf state, you sometimes miss the small named storms that fizzle out in the Atlantic, especially during active years. Last year, Tropical Storm Lee passed by, wholly unnoticed in Katrina's wake--understandable, because check out this pansy-ass storm.
Most of the time, however, you're aware of the storms. They're just part of the periphery, even if they pose no direct threat to your own city.
I have this small fear that I'm going to be so out of touch with the Gulf states that hurricanes will churn and make landfall, and I'll never know. That will add insult to the injury of already being so many hundreds of miles away that I'm not feeling the same heat waves or experiencing the same storm systems or even living in the same time zone. All my life, whenever a commercial said that some show was coming on a "10, 9 Central," I internalized that as 9 o'clock. The news comes on so late here.
The weather is really pleasant here right now. People keep bitching about the "heat." Heh. Yeah, it's been really warm lately. I'd say it was hot sometimes. But for the most part, I'm very comfortable. And I will never, ever wish for it to cool down. Never, never, never.
It seems like the hurricane belt is in good shape so far this year. By this time last year, we'd run through seven storms already. Is that what they're talking about down there? I don't even know.
I still miss it. But I'm also experiencing something that makes me uncomfortable every time I read a new story about what's up in New Orleans: relief. Unsolicited, guilty relief that I'm not there, surrounded by a population whose suicide rate has tripled, where the electricity still blips out all the time and some major intersections still function as four-way stops. Where you play "Backfiring Car or Gun Shots?" Where on the other side of the working power grid is a wasteland that's rotting away, still. Still! And the levees still aren't ready.
Blair asked me while I was evacuated and waiting for Katrina to pass, "What if this really is the Big One?"
This is what: don't elect to live in a place where they talk about the inevitable Big One.
I wouldn't take it all back. Not any of it. Not any of it before Katrina, at least. As to after? The more I feel that un-asked-for relief, the more I think I would do all of the rest the same way, too.
It's better to feel that way.
Then he said maybe he misheard. Maybe it was Tropical Storm Carol. I felt better; missing one hurricane is probably not a big deal.
Turns out it was Beryl. I didn't miss anything.
When you live in a Gulf state, you sometimes miss the small named storms that fizzle out in the Atlantic, especially during active years. Last year, Tropical Storm Lee passed by, wholly unnoticed in Katrina's wake--understandable, because check out this pansy-ass storm.
Most of the time, however, you're aware of the storms. They're just part of the periphery, even if they pose no direct threat to your own city.
I have this small fear that I'm going to be so out of touch with the Gulf states that hurricanes will churn and make landfall, and I'll never know. That will add insult to the injury of already being so many hundreds of miles away that I'm not feeling the same heat waves or experiencing the same storm systems or even living in the same time zone. All my life, whenever a commercial said that some show was coming on a "10, 9 Central," I internalized that as 9 o'clock. The news comes on so late here.
The weather is really pleasant here right now. People keep bitching about the "heat." Heh. Yeah, it's been really warm lately. I'd say it was hot sometimes. But for the most part, I'm very comfortable. And I will never, ever wish for it to cool down. Never, never, never.
It seems like the hurricane belt is in good shape so far this year. By this time last year, we'd run through seven storms already. Is that what they're talking about down there? I don't even know.
I still miss it. But I'm also experiencing something that makes me uncomfortable every time I read a new story about what's up in New Orleans: relief. Unsolicited, guilty relief that I'm not there, surrounded by a population whose suicide rate has tripled, where the electricity still blips out all the time and some major intersections still function as four-way stops. Where you play "Backfiring Car or Gun Shots?" Where on the other side of the working power grid is a wasteland that's rotting away, still. Still! And the levees still aren't ready.
Blair asked me while I was evacuated and waiting for Katrina to pass, "What if this really is the Big One?"
This is what: don't elect to live in a place where they talk about the inevitable Big One.
I wouldn't take it all back. Not any of it. Not any of it before Katrina, at least. As to after? The more I feel that un-asked-for relief, the more I think I would do all of the rest the same way, too.
It's better to feel that way.