As the Hurricane Churns

A hurricane is looming in the Gulf.  Actually, two hurricanes that go by the names Marco and Laura.  Both seem to be vying for America’s attention as they pick up steam and head towards the mainland.  This would be Adi and my first hurricane.  We only arrived in Galveston three short weeks ago and already Mother Nature decided to test our pluck to see what we are made of.  Neither Adi nor I watch or read the news and we don’t even own a television, so to say that we are out of the loop is an understatement.  There is never a need to worry because at the first sign of impending danger someone will reach out with the latest, hot off the press story.  In this case it was genuine news.  It didn’t take long before friends and family members, who knew how not plugged in we are, began sending us warning texts.

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Waiting for Marco

“Just an FYI, a hurricane may be heading for the Gulf,” Adi’s mom and the head Mermaid in charge wrote her. “We (Adi’s parents) are heading to the island to put the shutters on the house to get ready for the storm.”

Even my own brother who lives nearby in Houston and rarely texts me sent a shot across the bow, “Are you watching what’s happening in the Gulf?”

 

Hurricane Marco, Meet Hurricane Laura

This was enough to get me interested in the weather reports.  It didn’t take long for me to realize that Adi and I needed to start making plans for the coming days that wouldn’t include mindless errands like going to Target or the Post Office.  We needed to make some legitimate plans and act accordingly.

Adi’s parents are seasoned at storm survival.  They have lived on the island part time for the better part of last 15 years.  They have witnessed and been the victims of storms that only a Category 5 hurricane could leave.  Their Victorian home is in the center of the island and has had its fair share of storm damage throughout the years.  She stands tall and proud but has witnessed carnage that could make even the hardest hearted shed a small tear.  In fact, their family home once had human cadavers wash up on their porch following the Great Storm of 1900.  One could only imagine the horror of finding a fellow human being just outside the front door lying lifeless after losing a battle with Mother Nature.

Adi’s parents are experienced—we are not.  When storms approach, they drive “on to” the island to prepare whereas my instinct is drive “off of” the island.  When Adi first mentioned this to me that two storms were brewing in the Gulf, I said what any real man would in a make or break situation when presented with this information:

“Let’s leave the island and go get a nice hotel somewhere,” I  said without hesitation.

I make no qualms about admitting that I am far from adventurous—I am no Ernest Hemmingway nor Steve Irwin.  I think of brave people like Edmund Hillary who saw the world’s largest mountain and wondered if he could scale it.   I would have asked, “Is there a Ritz Carlton near the base camp that has room service?”  I’m not a thrill seeker and the thought of waiting out a storm doesn’t particularly interest me.  I’m soft—what can I say?

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Storm prep is old hat for native Galvestonians.  Hurricanes are in their DNA and the fabric of their life.  If one were to ask around, they’d hear locals say that the six weeks starting from mid-August through September is the time everyone “tiptoes” around hurricane reports.  They hope for the best yet prepare for the worst.  The mere mention of inclement weather is usually followed by the appearance of sandbags around town, scattered sporadically to be used if the situation elevates.  While the storm picks up pace in the Atlantic everyone continues to go about their business while averting any real mention of what possibly awaits in the coming days.  No one really acknowledges the sandbags ominously littered around the island in the hopes that by ignoring them it might decrease the liklihood of getting leveled by a storm.

Hurricane
The Forecast.

This city has been crushed by bruisers in the past that go by names like Ike, Carla, Alicia, and Harvey—not to mention the Great Galveston Storm of 1900 which preceded the naming of storms.  It was so devasting that it was simply called “The Great Galveston Storm.”  It needed no other moniker.

Reading about the history of these storms did little to convince me that we should just get some groceries and wait it out.  I’m not cavalier enough to believe I can reason with a hurricane.  As Adi and I began learning a little more each day about these competing hurricanes, we realized that this is real world “stuff” and you really have to prepare for this days ahead of time.  If one were to wait too long there is a chance of not getting off the island.  The longer someone tests Mother Nature’s resolve the more likely they are going to get caught in long traffic jams as people make a mass exodus off of the island.

This is the reality of beach living.  Although there are amazing perks that come with living on an island (evening trips to the beach to watch the sunset), there are also serious natural wonders to consider when the weather decides to get persnickety.  Adi and I noticed the sea getting a little bit angrier one morning when we arrived to watch the sunrise.  The waves were beginning the churn and the white caps became a little more pronounced.  I was drawn to this because literally a couple of days prior I had mentioned to Adi how calm the water seemed and in the back of my mind the phrase, “calm before the storm” kept popping up.  I didn’t take it too seriously but now after getting this weather update, I realized how prescient my intuition can be sometimes.

The days prior to a storm are interesting.  Knowing that a storm is looming, I began looking differently at the island.  With each building I passed, each landmark that stood, I couldn’t help but wonder: would it make it through the storm?  How will this place look in one short week?  Life is uncertain in a hurricane town.  Just like life, there is no guarantee of a tomorrow.  There never really is a guarantee, but we often convince ourselves that when life is banal, we have plenty of tomorrows in front of us.  The tree we love to look at will always be there, our favorite restaurant will still serve that appetizer we love so much, and a place like the Moody Mansion in Galveston will always be around to tour some day in the future—that is, until it isn’t.  This was the fate of the Balinese Room that was decimated from its pier during Hurricane Ike.

Looming hurricanes have a way of changing a person’s outlook.  Certainty becomes a luxury no one can afford and as the squalls make their way to landfall there is no way we cannot be faced with how tenuous our grasp is on our delicate life.  We think we are in control until Mother Nature assails our arrogance with a punishment that is worthy of our transgressions.  We have never been in control and the threat of a hurricane is a grim reminder that the ocean holds power that we have never quite given her proper credit for.

The seas were angry that day.

With this as a backdrop, we are preparing to put the shutters on the house that we have lived in for only three weeks.  Empty boxes still fill the garage from our move and yet I can’t help but wonder if the few possessions we brought with us will be here once the threat passes.  Hell, maybe I am being overly dramatic.  I have never gone through this before.  There is a distinct possibility these storms could change course and the island could carry on as if there was never a threat to begin with.  But even so, that just means these hurricanes would land in someone else’s backyard, leaving their lives in complete destruction.

This is the neutrality of a hurricane.  It matters not who you are or who you think you are.  A hurricane is an equal opportunity deliverer of lessons.  In our case, this seems to be a couple of hurricanes wedded together in a holy hell of matrimony that go by the names Marco and Laura.  They sound like two characters from a second-rate soap opera that is long past its prime.

Marco and Laura are coming.   They are landing somewhere, and their passion may just destroy everything in their wake.  The only question is where?  My only job is to get us the hell out here and take us as far away from this weather soap opera that I can.

Tune in this week to see the fireworks on As the Hurricane Churns…

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