When I count my blessings, which is often, I thank God for my senses, including common and humor.
Sooo, who often arrives in Florida during primetime hurricane season?
This guy.
The auto train took us here September 18, just in time to prepare for Ian. Supplies were purchased with the intention of hunkering down. But on Monday we were told to evacuate. We had options; family to the north and south, friends to the east. Tuesday morning we departed. Defying conventional wisdom, we headed south.
Maybe I should be asking God to provide me with common sense, rather than assuming I have some.
We left Indian Rocks Beach because it was expected to take a direct hit in just two days. We drove 2 and a half hours to Cape Coral which, because of a change in direction, was now expected to take a direct hit the very next day.
My nickname is not "Einstein."
Really, our thought process brought us south of Ian before it hit land, ignoring the fact that the cone of the hurricane is called the "cone of uncertainty."
Our stay in Cape Coral lasted only about an hour. Another day, another mandatory evacuation. A call was made, another destination was determined.
We traveled east (we're getting smarter) to a cousin's home. We were met by open arms and a warm heart.
Also arriving that day were a brother and a sister-in-law. Oh, and also a ninety year old woman; an acquaintance of the brother, but a complete stranger to our hostess. Comfortable and accustomed to living alone, our hostess now has to prepare for a hurricane and accommodate 5 people in some fashion.
The guest bedroom for brother and sister-in-law, two couches for cousin and myself. Ninety year old woman gets our hostess's bedroom; hostess sleeps on a yoga mat in her office.
What's wrong with this picture?
Day 1 was filled with quiet, cordial apprehension. Day 2, not so much. Ian, a most unwelcome guest, arrived. Heavy rain, gusty winds, power lost by midday. An early grilled grouper dinner, provided by the brother, is described, ominously or hopefully by our hostess as "the last supper." Hmm.
Seems that suggestions were made, not for the first time, that our hostess neither requested nor welcomed. We are now dealing with a hurricane and a cold war.
Ouch. An early bedtime. Our hostess ends up sleeping outside, on the lanai.
Day 3, the physical storm as passed. A short journey around the neighborhood displays little evidence of significant damage. Our hostess is optimistic; there is packed luggage at the front door. Brother takes a scouting trip to see if he can reach his house. He cannot; the water is too high. The luggage stays at the door.
Our lifelines to the outside world, spotty cell phone service and an old fashion transistor radio, tediously provide updates. Mid morning we learn we are allowed to return to our island home. Still later, we learn a restaurant in our neighborhood has electric power. Mid afternoon we finally learn that the major bridge that will lead us home has opened. We pack up and leave rather abruptly. We excuse ourselves for this social misstep; at least now our hostess will have an indoor couch to sleep on.
This is basically where our story ends. We return to our home, with power and no damage other than some lawn debris. We celebrate with Chinese takeout. Life is good.
Very unfortunately, other sad stories continue. Our hostess remains without power for several more days. She ponders selling her home. Brother, sister-in-law, and 90 year old acquaintance no longer have homes to return to. Life is not always good, not always fair.
My prayer line is extended. Fron now on, when I count my blessings, Diane our hostess, will be among them. I will pray that her brother, Richie, her sister-in-law Barbara, and their ninety year old acquaintance Helen, will have the strength and fortitude to carry on. I will pray that their hearts are not hardened, their faiths not compromised. Their hurricane continues.
