Hurricane Andrew and Lesser Storms

My return to work was fairly easy and low key.  The nice thing about taking long week-ends as vacation:  not much unravels while one is gone.  I am also lucky in that I have a great team, which is one of the chief elements that keeps the fabric of our campus knitted together--and yes, I realize I am biased.  It doesn't take much of a change of perspective to realize that not everyone sees the fabric as unfrayed.

This morning I've taken some of the leftovers--grilled clams, diced potatoes, bacon--and turned them into a chowder.  Our weather forecast calls for heavy rains today, and I will love knowing that a pot of chowder waits for me at the end of the day.

We are not facing the kind of heavy weather that South Florida would have faced twenty-five years ago when Hurricane Andrew slammed through the area.  I can't even imagine that fury.  And I really can't imagine the aftermath and the rebuilding--well, I can, but it fills my heart with heavy foreboding.

We were very lucky in terms of weather when my sister and nephew were here.  We were supposed to have this rainy weather system moving through earlier, but a front held it off until yesterday. 

Yesterday someone asked me if I'd been out in the sun.  Of course, I had.  I said, "I spent hours watching the eclipse. I protected my eyes, but I forgot about sunscreen."

Those who know me will scoff at my use of the word "forgot."  I tend to only use sunscreen on my face, neck, and upper chest.  I am scrupulous at protecting my lips, which are quick to burn and so painful when it happens.  But I don't worry much about my arms and legs.

My brain shifts back to 1992, when we had just moved into a house in Mt. Pleasant, SC.  We had spent some time paying attention to Hurricane Andrew, as one does when one lives by the coast.  I pay attention to every weather system, at least until it's clear that we're not in the storm's path.  Even then, I fear the mercurial nature of massive storms, so I keep a wary eye.

In the days after the storm, we noticed some small children next door.  They lived in Homestead, Florida, and had been sent north to stay with relatives while the grown ups tended to the clean up.  They were there for several months.  I think of a late summer night, all of us playing a version of soccer in the front yard, trying to help these refugees forget their loss and exile.

Those children would be in their 30's now.  I wonder how they are and where they are.  They didn't seem traumatized at the time, but I was a very casual observer.  It took several decades for the city of Homestead, Florida to recover.  I imagine that it takes the psyche even longer.