Hurricanes

The headlines are filled with Hurricane Katrina.

Fortunately I am located many miles from the disaster zone. Perhaps we will receive some rain, in inches instead of feet.

August 19, 1991, Hurricane Bob swept through New England with ferosity that tamed the toughest fishermen from the Carolinas to Maine. A category 3 hurricane, packed with wind gusts of over 105 mph, nothing stood in the way. Tall buildings swayed while the rain peltered windows as if a baseball bat was beating its way in. A state of emergency was established and curfew was imposed at 12 noon. No one was allowed on the streets. The Au Bon Pain (a donut joint) at Downtown Crossing had a Hurricane Bob sale, donuts at half-price. Homeless took shelter where they could, the kind management at MacDonalds took them in. Streets looked like rivers as the unrelentless rain fell.

The rain poured as if there was a hole in the sky and someone left the garden hose on. Then silence and sunshine filled the city as if the last hours of nature's turmoil was a bad dream. The infamous eye of the storm. A pocket of clear overtook briefly. For minutes, there was no rain, no loud thumping on the windows, no hollowing screams of wind, just pure sunshine. Reminder of mother nature's precedes with all the anger. Here we go again. 2 more hours of reminder, even the news casters were getting weary, the poor reporter at the Kennedy Square must have really wet underwear by now.

Then the downpour dwindled down to a sprinkle and eventually dissipated into humidity. The next day the poor guy at the Post Office was scraping USPS tape off the windows, probably muttering under his breath too. Businesses were cleaning up and picking up the pieces. The poor guy at the Post Office.

A lingering memory, perhaps the best, President George Bush (41st), his fishing boat was washed ashore. He and his wife played down the misfortune as minor, instead telling Americans to go help neighbours. Don't worry about my fishing bucket, go check your neighbours and give them a helping hand. Awww. Salute!

So who did I interview for this segment? A lot of cobwebs were cleared out of the memory closet. I was in Boston Massachusetts, Apt 3513, Devonshire Street. To be precise, apartment 13 on the 35th floor in the middle of Downtown Crossing in Boston Massachusetts. A bird's eye view of the magnificent city, separated from the hurricane by windows that are inches thick.
I feel for the folks in the south. 1991 still stirs up some chills, especially when a hurricane is involved. Just like the poor guy at the post office scraping the glue off the windows, the country will rise above the challenge. Always has and always will.

Monday, Aug 29, 2005 - 09:22pm (PDT)