We are on day 142 of 15 days to slow the spread.
We were supposed to be not watching the 2020 Olympics right now. Don’t get me wrong, I’d watch the opening and closing ceremonies, and some of the events. Some.
But, not this year.
Instead, those of us on the lower right coast have been watching the approach of the storm who cannot be named or at least pronounced. As I’m writing this, Isaias is a Tropical Storm heading for the Carolinas.
True story, I’ve not been up long enough to check the latest reports and the impacts on Coastal Florida.
In a small storm of my own and for undisclosed reasons, I did not make it to the gym this morning. Then, I got unexpectedly called into an online work meeting.
I’m looking out the window and the sun is mostly shining. The calm before the storm.
I made a comment about the storm name on Facebook the other day and a friend, a transplant from further
north, was telling us how storms are named.
Bless her heart.
I mean, I know she meant well and was trying to be helpful, but those of us who have lived most of our lives along the southern Atlantic (and Gulf) coast know all about birthin’ and namin’ hurricanes. And babies.
We all have our own hurricane stories.
Hurricane Isabel in 2003 came right over our house. A tornado ripped through our neighborhood and one neighbor lost 17 trees. Our house was spared damage, but we were without power for ten days. We eventually got someone to care for the dog and headed west to stay with family. And take showers.
A year later we were enjoying our annual trip to the Outer Banks when Hurricane Alex arrived. We survived and bought the t-shirts.
I have more stories, but the most memorable hurricane for me remains Katrina. Not because of impact or damage here, I barely remember if there was any. I went on two post-Katrina reconstruction trips to New Orleans. The first trip I took was in 2008, some three years after the storm. The devastation was still heart-breaking. I went back in 2010, there was still work to do.
We have plans to head to the Outer Banks in a little less than three weeks. We’re hoping for calm, quiet seas. With COVID-19 we’re planning to stay pretty close to the rental house. I’m good with that. All I need, and I do mean need, is a week with my backside planted firmly in a beach chair.
I have a stack of books that I’m taking, but honestly if all I do is stare at the surf and let the salt air blow out the cobwebs on my brain. I’m good.
Jim Cantore is not invited.