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The Flatland Chronicles for Thursday, July 7
Journal. Season of Mould and Cat 3 Hurricanes
We are now officially in the hurricane season. Nick went to the insurance office today to pay our premium for flood insurance; since our place is at the bottom of a hill (Flatland ain't so flat really), we view it as a necessary precaution. Even people like us who don't own much like their things, you know?
Our apartment complex recently replaced all the drains and re-routed the water that used to run downhill straight toward our place (and once or twice got into our kitchen). Now whenever it rains, Nick stands outside enjoying the spectacle of the water bubbling into the massive new drain. And I admit: sometimes I stand out there with him. This is one of the signs that you're either a kid or hopelessly middle aged: getting pleasure out of watching the rain washing down the hill.
Last year one of the massive liveoaks that line our streets came down during a hurricane (Ivan, I think) and went through a neighbor's roof. It actually went right through her bed (these are townhouse apartments) and straight through. Fortunately she wasn't in her bed at the time or even in her house; she and her child were out of town.
My main worries are [1] power failure (because you do NOT want to be in Florida June through September without AC); (2) damage to our car (though thankfully we have a garage, I worry about flooding); and (3) downed power lines. But I have learned not to worry too much in advance. We have a hurricane kit and we keep plenty of drinking water on hand; and it's not the sort of thing that there is any use in panicking over.
Years ago, when my husband Don was alive, we had a hurricane heading toward us (the very nasty Floyd) while Don was in England on family business. At that time, we lived in a very small house---a bungalow really----that was directly under a clump of liveoaks. "I don't think you should stay there," my landlord told me bluntly. But I didn't have anywhere else to go.
I'd been told that I needed to get plenty of water on hand. Using the biggest soup cauldron I could find,I filled up no less than FOUR giant plastic storage bins. It took hours and afterward the floor was sort of buckling under their weight. Don---remembering stories of the Blitz, I guess---calling frantically from England, told me to spend the night underneath the dining room table. I lined up the canned goods and the bottled water under there with me and spent the night lying on a futon under the table, reading and eating corn chips. I kept waiting for the storm but at the last minute it suddenly turned and went up the coast to North Carolina----where it did devastating damage and even caused, or so I heard, a cholera outbreak.
We didn't suffer much from the hurricanes; we were lucky every time, though people just a mile or so away were without power for two weeks and there were people in my county who didn't have water for much longer than that. Though Florida sustained heavy damages in places, we got through it all okay---and afterwards, Katrina made every other hurricane seem tame by comparison to anyone who wasn't directly affected. As I said, the worst part was losing power and we were luckier in that respect than some. Once you've taken the precautions you can take, there's not much else you can do.
So we're ready for whatever the season has in store for us.
I'm much more worried about people in places like New Orleans (obviously) and Galveston that are particularly vulnerable to hurricanes than I am about people where I live. Last year, after the ravages of Katrina, I was fully expecting the Texas coast to be wiped away by Rita. As per usual, the news reporters were interviewing the local crazies who planned to 'ride it out' in terribly frail little houses after all the emergency services people were gone. And then there was the insane evacuation of the ENTIRE CITY of Houston and all the people whose cars stalled out on the highway. At least in Florida we KNOW that you don't evacuate people who aren't actually at risk from the storm surge. Here on the peninsula, you can't run from the storms because there's nowhere to go; but you learn what to do to put yourself as much as possible out of harm's way and to prepare for the 'worst comes to worst' scenarios.
Except: I am EXTREMELY worried about people living in south Florida in and around Lake Okeechobee, where (I was startled to learn) there are levees that are not much more reliable than the New Orleans ones. There was a disaster in 1928 of massive proportions resulting from a Category 4 hurricane and there are those predicting that we are in line for another such disaster down in that part of Florida. According to this article, people believe that the levees are safe for now. I hope it's so. I'm sure that's what the people in N.O. thought as well.
RELATED POSTINGS:
Grocery Bag Shoes and A Plague of Butterflies: Signs of the Apocalypse?
Good News About Global Warming! Inhofe: Gore “Full of Crap”
Season of Mould & Cat 3 Hurricanes.
Today's digest:
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[FICTIONAL BLOGGING] JAY DREAMINGBELIEVER: "I know it sounds crazy...but ever since that concert, my whole LIFE is falling into place!" Better living through the cult of personality in The Church of the Over-Invested Fangirl.
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THE "PRINCESS BRIDE" FALLACY AND AN EMINENTLY PRACTICAL APPROACH TO WEDDING ETIQUETTE. The obligations of being princess for a day and a book that will teach you what you need to know about the consequences of behaving badly. In Love in the Time of the Internets.
Images © 2006 Jupiterimages Corporation. Used pursuant to license from Animation Factory.com.
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