In 1928, Okeechobee Hurricane pillaged Florida.
My mother had the scar to prove it.
Actually, she had many scars, some visible from the event, and others that would come later, due to circumstances caused by the event.
A window blew in and cut her above the eye.
That was the evident scar. The others, longer in the making, were the financial destruction of her family, the move back to Missouri, and her father, leaving the successful wholesale fruit business behind, and turning to the railroad for employment … and to drink for consolation.
It is impossible for me not to think of this as a hurricane has its sights on Florida.
This morning, after I got grandkids on the bus, I got in my car to drive home. The skies were dismal, covered in grey, steely clouds.
Highway 26, a known road in these parts and for all of those heading to Charleston, Beaufort and Hilton Head, has all of its lanes going west … out of Dodge.
Matthew, doesn’t appear to be a gentian caller. I think he might be more like Rhett Butler, grabbing Scarlett and bounding up the stairs, tow and three steps at a time.
I have read of people who have chosen to leave and those who have chosen to stay.
Me? I would have been out of there.
There are ways that I tempt fate, but that isn’t one of them. I don’t fancy the idea of getting to that point where I am standing in my house, windows blown in or out, looking up at the sky through what once was a roof, and saying, “Oh poop, I should have left.”
I understand why some people are staying put. They aren’t calling the hurricanes bluff, but the weatherman’s. We live in a a world of hype and crying wolf and making much ado about nothing.
But if they stay and are wrong, it might be their last enchilada that they swallow.
There is a part of me that would like to be in a bunker, with guaranteed safety, right in the middle of things, just to see it.It would be something to see the force of the winds and rain … a really hacked-off Mother Nature.
I am thinking that this hurricane is God’s way of telling us that He is less than thrilled with how this election is shaking out. We have Hurricane Hillary and Hurricane Donald, stirring waves and spewing nails and planks of wood all over the place, leaving debris in their path. They churn and churn vitriol, which rips away at the soul of our society.
Depending on the way the winds blow, we, here in Clover, might get rain from Hurricane Matthew. The best case scenario for everyone, is that Matthew’s mother will call him out to sea.
Weather has a way of putting us all in our place doesn’t it?