Waiting for Katrina

The first rule of hurricane coverage is that every broadcast must begin with palm trees bending in the wind.
Carl Hiaasen

I went to Wal-Mart today after Sunday School to pick up a couple of tiny radios in case we lose power in the next few days. For those of you who don't know because you live in another country or because you haven't turned on a TV or seen a newspaper lately, a big whopping hurricane called Katrina is approaching the Gulf Coast. The city I live nearest to is a major interstate hub, and from the time I went to church this morning to the time I came home from town this afternoon, the traffic coming from the Coast and New Orleans had quadrupled. They've one-wayed the south-bound interstates and now, everybody is rushing north to escape.

Every car that passed was loaded to capacity with people, pets, and possessions. I saw a big white and brown hound riding in the back of a pickup truck. In true dog form, he had his long ears flapping in the breeze. He was the only comical element in what was really a deadly serious flight.

Some of the cars were curiously empty; others were taxing the springs with the weight of their cargo. Almost all of them bore Louisiana plates. New Orleans, always on the brink of being under water, is being evacuated because if Katrina walks into town, the great pumps under the streets won't be enough to keep it dry. In the cars, I'd see odds and ends pressed up against the windows, and I kept trying to figure out how you'd even chose what to take in a situation where everything you love might be under water in 48 hours.

People in Wal-Mart were frothing at the mouth and ready to cut each other for bottled water and batteries. I hate it when emergencies bring out the crap in people. It seems like everyone would try to be kinder and more helpful, but instead, it was a snatch and grab environment. I only had three items in hand having bought supplies a few days ago, but cartloads of the oddest stuff were being pushed to the registers. I've never seen so much sliced ham and so many cases of coke being bought at one time.

Katrina is one of the biggest hurricanes ever to hit the Gulf Coast. Of course, comparisons are being made to that mother of all storms, Camille. My father was in the Coast Guard in N.O. when Camille came in, and he tells stories that will turn your hair white. This was when my mother and father were still dating, and Dad had to drive from where she lived down the state back to New Orleans through the storm. Just another one of those cases of God protecting, or there's no way he would have made it back in one piece.

I can almost visualize the hurricane as an entity. I have this picture in my head of a female wraith-like creature dancing on the water. The face is horrible. I don't know why this keeps coming to me, but since I first imagined it this way, I can't get rid of it.

Right now, of course, the sun is shining. Yellow swallowtail butterflies are feeding on my abelias. Only the increasing wind and the ominous, distant, gray curtain of cloud tells that something terrible is coming.

My windchimes are ringing with growing urgency, and in a couple of hours, I'll go outside and take all the birdfeeders and windchimes down. I'll also find safe places for all the potted plants and rocking chairs on my porch, unhook the chains on my porch swing, and put away all the decorative doodads that accumulate. I'll park my car under the car shed, and call my parents to put Mom's van in, too. I'll run a work cooler full of water, make sure my hurricane lamps have oil, and arrange lighters and flashlights in places where they can be found. I'll generally batten down the hatches and hope for the best. When faced with one of nature's Furies, what else can you do?

They're expecting Katrina to walk right over where I live, so it's likely that you won't hear from me for a few days. Hopefully, I will be writing to you tomorrow evening, but if we're without power, then I'll be back when the electricity is. I hope all of you are battened down and ready as well. Take care.