Even in this very active storm season, it’s a crap shoot whether a storm will grow enough and throw a threat your way. I’d planned to be in Baton Rouge this past weekend (8/27-28/05), and it was a beautiful one until 6 p.m. on Sunday. The sky lowered gun-metal clouds and the spinning storm raked them into furrows. The rain started. The rain stopped. I came away from the grocery story after an hour and a half wait with water, batteries, charcoal, sausage, beans, and buns believing I would not need them. Hoping I would not have to light the last candles to be had: Moonlight Sighs votives.I woke up Monday morning to the sound of jetliners low overhead. The power flickered off about 5 a.m. Then flickered on. Then off, and as far as I know, it stayed that way. The dawn brought a yellow-brown sky to light the trees bending in a vacuuming wind from all directions. As a lifelong Yankee, I was afraid. Nor’easters blow. This sucked. Those were no jetliners; that was the storm wind. The question that eats at you the way the pressure stabs your sinuses is, if this is the beginning, how can it end?
For me, it ended in an airport in Houston the following day. Late Monday in BTR I saw some roof shingles flung around, a few signs and fences down, a half-dozen trees tipped over, and all of nature’s leaf bag shaken out by Katrina. I was without power, so you knew more about the storm than I did. Local radio, which I tuned to, relayed questions and spotty answers from people with cell phones standing on their porches. “Clarence, [the host’s real name] I’ve got a sister in Kenner and all I hear is bad news out of there. Can you tell me what’s happening in Kenner, near Thibodeaux Road, and in LaPlace where my MawMaw’s kin live?”
Power was coming back on in West Baton Rouge, someone said, but the utility warned it could be five days or more before the entire city was restored. Without air conditioning, news, refrigerator, internet, or air conditioning (emphasis mine), it seemed a good time to accept my girlfriend’s urging and come home. Thirteen hours of Tuesday later, I was there.
I was always safe but for three hours I was scared I wasn’t. Remind me to tell you about the books I read before the sun went down. There was no moonlight. But there were Moonlight Sighs.
Thanks for all your benevolent thoughts, prayers, fretting, nail-biting, and railing at the storm. Assume the picture above, tells you nothing. In the future, my storm strategy is plan, prepare, then RUN AWAY EARLY.
