Triggered Memories abound on this Wednesday, September 28th 2022

 

As I have been watching the news this morning and the onslaught of weather-related updates on Hurricane Ian on its slated trajectory, I was taken back to September 1960, when we were living in Tangelo Park, Florida.

Our dad was in the USAF, stationed at McCoy AFB, and had a part time job working for Martin Marietta to help supplement the family income. We lived in a new subdivision of tract homes built to accommodate families like us. It was our parents first opportunity to purchase their own home and they were very proud of this investment and spent many hours, hard earned money, and manual labor poring love into our home to make it ours. I have many happy memories associated with that home. I was a gawky, tall skinny preteen, that got the freedom to walk about the subdivision, which was a very large one, and to test my wings for the first time, having my parents trust and faith in my ability to make good judgements and decisions was fulfilling and uplifting, while also placing a moral code of responsibility on me that I did not take lightly.

I was old enough to understand the unspoken words that was communicated between our parents, as they prepared for the unknown challenges that Hurricane Donna would bring to us and the fear of devastation that could ensue. In the early sixties, television was still finding its way, so what was spoken about was taken as gospel, because they had to have facts before they could broadcast it over the airways, if only that was the case in today’s world.

I did not know what a hurricane was but as it hammered its way across the Keys and found its way up the gulf coast and turning due east above Naples making a destructive path across the state and up the Atlantic coast, I found out what havoc it could wreak. My folks and I were up all-night mopping water, opening windows in different parts of the house to keep the pressure from blowing the house apart. Some of the strongest memories are of the constant wind, howling and never stopping, my ears were popping, popping, popping. My three brothers all slept in the same room in bunk beds in the middle of the house, I remember them sleeping through the night. I have a permanent picture in my mind of dad calmly go from room to room, checking for leaks, and our mom sat in a kitchen chair in front of the glass sliding door off the kitchen, which was not a wise thing to do, but she watched all night as a neighbor’s metal garbage can, rolled almost to our glass door and back again, this went on, over and over again throughout the night. People were told to place them inside a garage or other inner area, because of the havoc they could wreak. When the eye of the storm came the silence was deadening and everything was still, the sun came out for an iota of time, Mom looked at our dad and begged him to go out and get that garbage can, which he did, he had just got it in the garage and the door closed when it started up again.

Weather events like these are termed by insurance companies as acts of God, it is a way for them to throw up their hands and say not our problem. The loss, devastation, and personal turmoil that evolves is unfathomable and remains within you always, just under the surface, no matter how long ago it has been.

I pray for the Floridians that are in the path of this terrible storm. I have family and friends that can and will be affected by its pathway. Our world today is inundated with over saturated bad news, and many of us have, it seems, become casual lookie loo’s to the pain and suffering of our fellow human beings, like it is not real like a video game. This quote is profound and accurate in my opinion and as I pause this morning to lift up those in Ian’s path,  and the compassionate souls who will be there with boots on the ground to help with the recovery, I leave you with this:

“The nature of humanity, its essence, is to feel another’s pain as one’s own, and to act to take that pain away. There is nobility in compassion, a beauty in empathy, a grace in forgiveness.” – John Connolly