100 Things, Day 11: Hugo
It's September 1989 and the world goes topsy turvy. If you've done your math, you'll realize I'm 8 at the time and in third grade. At home the news is filled with talk of a hurricane brewing, but for awhile no one's all that worried. Coastal folk are rarely worried.
Until they are.
Then names of previous storms people have weathered are thrown about (David is uttered rather frequently) and I begin reading everything I possibly can on hurricanes. (I suspect I'd done so over the summer as well, but I don't fully recall.) Knowledge is power, my friends, and when you're eight, you need all the help you can get. Thing is, I've just about talked myself out of panic mode when I stay up late one night and after the news, Mums is worried. Like 'not hide it from the kids' worried. So I ask and she downplays it while still making sure that I know this is Serious.
And it is. We get released from school and every kid there is a bit upset that our normal teacher isn't the one to say goodbye (she had shingles, if memory serves). Evacuations are mandated. We board up our windows and Dad is home from work so you know it's a big deal. The day the hurricane is scheduled to hit, my grandfather tries once more to convince Mums that he doesn't have to go. She argues that since he's a diabetic he should be someplace safe, where there's still power and the food he needs (brittle diabetic) will be assured and not iffy. He leaves somewhere near sunrise. Mums looks worried as he drives away, but there's stuff to do. Showers and last minute cleaning is done and then tubs are filled with water. Everything outside is picked up and carted to the garage or inside where it belongs.
Thing is, the day is beautiful. The skies are blue and the sun is shining and while it's windy, it's also just gorgeous outside.
Until the neighbor's trashcans are blown down the street around noon.
And then it hits me. There's something in the air, the feeling of the impending storm, I guess. It's very hard to describe how scary that moment was, when the sky overhead was the bluest I'd ever seen, and my hair was blowing in the wind and I felt so very small and insignificant.
The moment passes and everyone resumes their preparations. I don't recall much of the afternoon after that, but as the sky darkens, the boy and I are in his room which has (had? not sure if the new owners killed that) a wall and a half or so of windows. (I'm sure I'm exaggerating a little, but not as much as you might think.) He and I are drawing pictures and I think I'm painting what I'm seeing outside. We watch the trees sway in the wind, some of them bending in impressively frightening ways, others not daring to move beyond the leaves flying. We run to get Dad and point out the trees dancing and he assures us that the ones that bend are the ones that will not break. Lovely sentiment that ultimately proves to be utterly false. :P
Dinner in front of the television where we watch the weather men (Dad is flipping between channels) foolishly report from the Battery and Folly Beach. Dad mocks them openly for being stupid and then wondering why they're encountering people who haven't evacuated. If it's 'safe enough' for you idiots to be filming out there, why wouldn't some people feel it's safe enough to stay in general?
The power flickers on and off throughout dinner and beyond. Eventually the power goes out and stays out during one of Dad's battles with the weathermen and everyone clears out of the TV room and into the rest of the house to gather last minute things before the storm arrives. Doors are shut to rooms, particularly those where the windows aren't boarded up (second story ain't easy to get to, people.) and everyone convenes downstairs in the hallway. Candles and flashlights are brought out and for awhile it's kind of interesting. Dad's got one of the radios that he listens to occasionally, and otherwise we talk.
The house shakes occasionally as trees fall all around us and I know I try not to freak out too much. I don't remember the boy flipping out, so I'm thinking he had the same idea. It's also possible I've blocked out incriminating memories. But mostly it's getting to hang out with each other with few distractions and everything is okay.
Until we notice water coming in under the front door.
No one's entirely sure if this is rain coming down sideways or if the front yard has flooded that badly (money's on the rain) but the parentals discuss for about two minutes the merits of adhering to the "stay on the bottom floor" rule or heading to slightly higher ground upstairs. Eventually they decide higher ground is better so we move upstairs. There's more room but everyone is now spread out.
The eye passes over the area and Dad goes outside for some reason, I guess to check the possibility of flooding and to assess the damage thus far. I freak out because who knows when the storm will kick in again and what if, what if, WHAT IF Dad's still outside when that happens? Because it really is like someone's pressed pause on a video game, that's how quiet it is. I'm fairly certain I take a peek briefly, but all I remember is blackness.
Dad comes back in and the storm begins again. Trees continue to fall and a lifelong fear of tornadoes is born though I don't realize it at the time. Eventually I fall asleep in front of the door to my room, fairly certain that the world can end while I sleep if need be.
The sun comes up and we investigate. The cars are mostly okay, if memory serves, but we find out that most of the trees the boy and I worried about the previous day were the ones to fall first. (Dad was right about one of the oaks, though.) The houses on either side of us sustain damage, one of which had the pets and the man of the house in the house while it happened. Luckily they were on the side that wasn't hit. Even more luckily for us is the realization that one of the trees that fell is caught by another tree so the tree didn't smash into our house.
There are pictures of the boy and I climbing over fallen trees and limbs somewhere. There was a video but time ate it.
After the storm, the world seemed incredibly weird. I lived in a neighborhood that was fairly rich so many of those people had simply left their homes to go to their other houses, or stay with family. The neighborhood felt deserted, so while I've heard of people throwing big block parties as a way to share the food before it spoiled, ours... not so much. Trees had fallen in the streets, obviously, so driving wasn't an option for awhile until the city (or the neighbors returned) fixed things.
My great uncle John came to visit and brought useful things, like a chainsaw and a generator. My aunt Sarah scared the crap out of me by visiting at night after curfew (nothing like looking out the window and seeing a glowing orb in the distance getting closer and closer and then realizing it's a flashlight and who would be out at this time of night and ohmygosh, there's no phone so you can't call the cops and Eeeeeeeep!) and other family members sent care packages (paper dolls and a Spirograph!) and I made friends with the little girl whose family was responsible for clearing away the fallen trees in our yard.
With no power, I could finally con my mother into playing Monopoly with me. Sadly, this is also when I first suspected my father was almost unbeatable at Clue, but still board games were big. The boy and I spent each day waiting for the power to come back because there's only so long you can stand things cooked over Sterno.
Of course, each day closer to power was one step closer to going back to school so... the boy was in no big hurry to go back while I was curious. Also, I didn't want us to end up in Halloween time with no power I was finally going to be a princess with one of those princessy Ren-faire type hats, dammit. As it was, I think that was the only year I didn't go trick or treating as a kid, as it was banned that year.
Hugo changed my life in a million ways, big and small. I became one of those people who feared not most storms because bah, I'd survived a fairly large one. I was also one of those who stayed and had the stories to prove it. And yet I also developed a serious aversion to tornado conditions and when a storm comes close I spend too much time watching the coverage or lack thereof.
It gave me a big storm story and scarred me in unexpected ways. Sometimes I can close my eyes and I'm back there for half a second. Other times I can barely remember a thing.
23 years. Whoa.
Until they are.
Then names of previous storms people have weathered are thrown about (David is uttered rather frequently) and I begin reading everything I possibly can on hurricanes. (I suspect I'd done so over the summer as well, but I don't fully recall.) Knowledge is power, my friends, and when you're eight, you need all the help you can get. Thing is, I've just about talked myself out of panic mode when I stay up late one night and after the news, Mums is worried. Like 'not hide it from the kids' worried. So I ask and she downplays it while still making sure that I know this is Serious.
And it is. We get released from school and every kid there is a bit upset that our normal teacher isn't the one to say goodbye (she had shingles, if memory serves). Evacuations are mandated. We board up our windows and Dad is home from work so you know it's a big deal. The day the hurricane is scheduled to hit, my grandfather tries once more to convince Mums that he doesn't have to go. She argues that since he's a diabetic he should be someplace safe, where there's still power and the food he needs (brittle diabetic) will be assured and not iffy. He leaves somewhere near sunrise. Mums looks worried as he drives away, but there's stuff to do. Showers and last minute cleaning is done and then tubs are filled with water. Everything outside is picked up and carted to the garage or inside where it belongs.
Thing is, the day is beautiful. The skies are blue and the sun is shining and while it's windy, it's also just gorgeous outside.
Until the neighbor's trashcans are blown down the street around noon.
And then it hits me. There's something in the air, the feeling of the impending storm, I guess. It's very hard to describe how scary that moment was, when the sky overhead was the bluest I'd ever seen, and my hair was blowing in the wind and I felt so very small and insignificant.
The moment passes and everyone resumes their preparations. I don't recall much of the afternoon after that, but as the sky darkens, the boy and I are in his room which has (had? not sure if the new owners killed that) a wall and a half or so of windows. (I'm sure I'm exaggerating a little, but not as much as you might think.) He and I are drawing pictures and I think I'm painting what I'm seeing outside. We watch the trees sway in the wind, some of them bending in impressively frightening ways, others not daring to move beyond the leaves flying. We run to get Dad and point out the trees dancing and he assures us that the ones that bend are the ones that will not break. Lovely sentiment that ultimately proves to be utterly false. :P
Dinner in front of the television where we watch the weather men (Dad is flipping between channels) foolishly report from the Battery and Folly Beach. Dad mocks them openly for being stupid and then wondering why they're encountering people who haven't evacuated. If it's 'safe enough' for you idiots to be filming out there, why wouldn't some people feel it's safe enough to stay in general?
The power flickers on and off throughout dinner and beyond. Eventually the power goes out and stays out during one of Dad's battles with the weathermen and everyone clears out of the TV room and into the rest of the house to gather last minute things before the storm arrives. Doors are shut to rooms, particularly those where the windows aren't boarded up (second story ain't easy to get to, people.) and everyone convenes downstairs in the hallway. Candles and flashlights are brought out and for awhile it's kind of interesting. Dad's got one of the radios that he listens to occasionally, and otherwise we talk.
The house shakes occasionally as trees fall all around us and I know I try not to freak out too much. I don't remember the boy flipping out, so I'm thinking he had the same idea. It's also possible I've blocked out incriminating memories. But mostly it's getting to hang out with each other with few distractions and everything is okay.
Until we notice water coming in under the front door.
No one's entirely sure if this is rain coming down sideways or if the front yard has flooded that badly (money's on the rain) but the parentals discuss for about two minutes the merits of adhering to the "stay on the bottom floor" rule or heading to slightly higher ground upstairs. Eventually they decide higher ground is better so we move upstairs. There's more room but everyone is now spread out.
The eye passes over the area and Dad goes outside for some reason, I guess to check the possibility of flooding and to assess the damage thus far. I freak out because who knows when the storm will kick in again and what if, what if, WHAT IF Dad's still outside when that happens? Because it really is like someone's pressed pause on a video game, that's how quiet it is. I'm fairly certain I take a peek briefly, but all I remember is blackness.
Dad comes back in and the storm begins again. Trees continue to fall and a lifelong fear of tornadoes is born though I don't realize it at the time. Eventually I fall asleep in front of the door to my room, fairly certain that the world can end while I sleep if need be.
The sun comes up and we investigate. The cars are mostly okay, if memory serves, but we find out that most of the trees the boy and I worried about the previous day were the ones to fall first. (Dad was right about one of the oaks, though.) The houses on either side of us sustain damage, one of which had the pets and the man of the house in the house while it happened. Luckily they were on the side that wasn't hit. Even more luckily for us is the realization that one of the trees that fell is caught by another tree so the tree didn't smash into our house.
There are pictures of the boy and I climbing over fallen trees and limbs somewhere. There was a video but time ate it.
After the storm, the world seemed incredibly weird. I lived in a neighborhood that was fairly rich so many of those people had simply left their homes to go to their other houses, or stay with family. The neighborhood felt deserted, so while I've heard of people throwing big block parties as a way to share the food before it spoiled, ours... not so much. Trees had fallen in the streets, obviously, so driving wasn't an option for awhile until the city (or the neighbors returned) fixed things.
My great uncle John came to visit and brought useful things, like a chainsaw and a generator. My aunt Sarah scared the crap out of me by visiting at night after curfew (nothing like looking out the window and seeing a glowing orb in the distance getting closer and closer and then realizing it's a flashlight and who would be out at this time of night and ohmygosh, there's no phone so you can't call the cops and Eeeeeeeep!) and other family members sent care packages (paper dolls and a Spirograph!) and I made friends with the little girl whose family was responsible for clearing away the fallen trees in our yard.
With no power, I could finally con my mother into playing Monopoly with me. Sadly, this is also when I first suspected my father was almost unbeatable at Clue, but still board games were big. The boy and I spent each day waiting for the power to come back because there's only so long you can stand things cooked over Sterno.
Of course, each day closer to power was one step closer to going back to school so... the boy was in no big hurry to go back while I was curious. Also, I didn't want us to end up in Halloween time with no power I was finally going to be a princess with one of those princessy Ren-faire type hats, dammit. As it was, I think that was the only year I didn't go trick or treating as a kid, as it was banned that year.
Hugo changed my life in a million ways, big and small. I became one of those people who feared not most storms because bah, I'd survived a fairly large one. I was also one of those who stayed and had the stories to prove it. And yet I also developed a serious aversion to tornado conditions and when a storm comes close I spend too much time watching the coverage or lack thereof.
It gave me a big storm story and scarred me in unexpected ways. Sometimes I can close my eyes and I'm back there for half a second. Other times I can barely remember a thing.
23 years. Whoa.