Hurricane Irene
In June I was sitting outside with my father in my hometown of Easton, Maryland, watching as he stared into the sky. "What's up?" I asked, noticing the look of concern on his face.
"Last hurricane we had was Isabel." He said, and I agreed. Isabel turned the Eastern Shore into pure hell. I can still remember it.
"We're due for another." Dad told me, "I can feel it coming."
It's August now, and I'm 500 miles away, frantically checking my phone every hour ON THE HOUR to make sure he's okay. My brothers are with him, sitting by the windows, watching Hurricane Irene make her was lazily across the Northeast. Tilghman Island was evacuated, Ocean City's mandatory evacuation made it's average 200,000 residents and tourists drop to a sickening 300 people. Shops there will flood, business ruined.
Further south, Smith Island's residents were taken by ferry to Chrisfield. Houses will be wiped off the map, an island swallowed by the Chesapeake, possibly never to return. Dozens of fishing communities will be drowned out, lives will be ruined...
And in an instant, lives will be taken.
Conor keeps me posted on his situation. He's in the next county over from Dad, in Caroline. Caroline County was built on a marsh, and the only way back to Easton is by bridge.
The bridge is washed out, roads are gone, and the power is out.
And the wind hasn't even begun. It's all about the rain.
I'm sitting here under blue skies, terrified about the conditions of home. For my father, my brothers, my aunts and uncles, my grandparents and cousins and great aunts...for my fiancee.
How's everyone else holding up under Irene's painful path?
"Last hurricane we had was Isabel." He said, and I agreed. Isabel turned the Eastern Shore into pure hell. I can still remember it.
"We're due for another." Dad told me, "I can feel it coming."
It's August now, and I'm 500 miles away, frantically checking my phone every hour ON THE HOUR to make sure he's okay. My brothers are with him, sitting by the windows, watching Hurricane Irene make her was lazily across the Northeast. Tilghman Island was evacuated, Ocean City's mandatory evacuation made it's average 200,000 residents and tourists drop to a sickening 300 people. Shops there will flood, business ruined.
Further south, Smith Island's residents were taken by ferry to Chrisfield. Houses will be wiped off the map, an island swallowed by the Chesapeake, possibly never to return. Dozens of fishing communities will be drowned out, lives will be ruined...
And in an instant, lives will be taken.
Conor keeps me posted on his situation. He's in the next county over from Dad, in Caroline. Caroline County was built on a marsh, and the only way back to Easton is by bridge.
The bridge is washed out, roads are gone, and the power is out.
And the wind hasn't even begun. It's all about the rain.
I'm sitting here under blue skies, terrified about the conditions of home. For my father, my brothers, my aunts and uncles, my grandparents and cousins and great aunts...for my fiancee.
How's everyone else holding up under Irene's painful path?