Caravan

As I was taking Roux to the vet this morning for an allergy shot, I came upon a long string of Asplundh trucks slowly moving east on I-20.  I passed them, but I knew where they were headed.  They were an emergency clean-up crew headed for the Carolina coast and the damage Irene is due to leave in her wake.

The sight of that slow-moving caravan of out-of-state rescue workers made my eyes tear up.  I flashed back to our own post-Katrina days here in Mississippi when our local highways were full of power company crews and other heavy equipment from every state in the union trying to get our basic services restored and the debris and devastation cleared away.  I remember all the different logos and colors as they trekked up and down the interstates, trying to help us put our shattered lives back together.  They'd be gathered at truck stops and gas stations refueling themselves and their equipment.

I also remember after power returned finally and we all headed back to interrupted jobs, school years, lives, and we watched those people who helped us to do that packing their gear and turning their big trucks back toward Illinois, Indiana, Ohio once again....  I couldn't help but thinking that even though it was their job to come, even though they got paid by the power companies they represented to do that work, that they were heroes.  The battle that we were fighting to get to something like normal, as much as we were going to have after the hammer of the gods had hit us, anyway, was their battle, too.  Their work made it possible for us to recover, to survive.

I hope that Irene doesn't hold a candle to her older sister.  I hope that she's shy and stays away from society.  I hope that these slow and deliberate caravans headed toward the coast are just a sensible precaution.  Nobody should have to need those heroes in the heavy trucks, but it is a great comfort to know they're on the way.