Irene

A Passing Shower On Long Island

The impending storm barely blipped on my radar earlier this week. I received an email from Examiner asking for articles relating to “Extreme Weather” in connection to Hurricane Irene. In recent years we have had so many tropical storms come our way that I don’t give them much notice. “Every family should always be prepared for an emergency,” I wrote in my column, “If you have all the staples in your house you won’t have to run out and buy batteries, bread, and water.”

On Thursday night, I had a list building up, and finally decided to take a trip to Wal-Mart. The bunny and dog needed to eat, and I recently noticed the family’s underwear was getting a little threadbare. My twelve-year-old tagged along, wanting to buy some new material for a project she wanted to sew.

Rolling around the store with a cart filled with socks and underwear, I felt amused looking at the things other people were buying. Stacks of water bottles. I made a mental note to start filling empty jugs with tap water.

“Sorry, ma’am, we’re all out of batteries. Flashlights too,” an employee explained to a customer. I wondered, why did people need all these batteries and why did they not have an emergency supply at home? How many people did not already have a flashlight at home?

I felt proud of myself as I checked out. I had none of the mundane supplies other people were buying. We had materials for a weekend project, our pets would be fed, and if we had an emergency we would not be caught with holes in our socks or underwear.

Friday I saw the Red Cross signs outside of our local high school and I started to get nervous. I went back to Wal-mart to buy tape for my windows. I noticed they had restocked their batteries.

On line with my three rolls of Duck brand strapping tape, I stayed quiet as a large, rough-looking man in front of me waved his arms and declared, “All this … for Irene…. BAH!” and he threw a small piece of rolled up paper into a side display. “After I check out I have to take care of the a—hole in the auto department. He told me he was all out of batteries and I said, ‘Show me where they used to be,’ and he pointed, and there they still were, and I said, ‘What do those look like, a—hole?’… I know a shyster when I see one and I knew he was a liar...A real con artist…You’re pretty quiet aren’t you?” [I nodded.] “You don’t let much bother you do you?” [I shook my head.] “Yeah I can tell about people.”

I looked away, hoping he would stop talking to me, and fortunately he was swiftly taken care of. I noticed a big supply of batteries behind the counter. He had told someone else he only had AAA and AA so I asked him for the largest package of AA. Not that I didn’t have them at home; it is the size we most frequently need. I scanned the display for flashlights. I didn’t see any and didn’t ask. I knew of at least one working flashlight in the kitchen drawer.

As I walked out, I passed the man at the courtesy counter, complaining about the a—hole in automotive.

When I got home, there was a message from the Town of Brookhaven. “This storm will be a historic one of epic proportions,” it said, and listed all the important things to do. [Note the current advise is NOT to tape the windows, but my dad was a builder and he still says tape them, so I do.]

The kids asked me why I was taping up the windows. I remembered asking my parents the same thing before Hurricane Gloria in 1985. I remembered their answer. “It keeps the glass from shattering if it breaks,” I answered.

“It’s not even going to be a big storm,” my eldest said.

“You have never seen a real hurricane honey, you are in for an experience,“ I said.

“Didn’t you write in your column you were supposed to tell your kids not to be scared?” she challenged.

“That is true. But I also want you not to be blasé about it and help me to prepare,” I answered.

We walked around the yard, picking up toys, furniture, flower pots, garbage pails, and other loose items. We secured them all in the shed and garage. After swimming, we secured all the pool stuff in the pool storage unit.

I went food shopping, not because of the storm, but because we were out of food. I planned on having the electricity go out on Sunday. So I bought enough perishables to last through Saturday night and got lots of bread, nuts, fruit, vegetables, and cereal. I remembered my need for coffee and picked up some instant coffee. Three gallons of milk and six cans of evaporated milk.

A man behind me had a shopping cart filled with beer and iced tea. A Hurricane Party?, I wondered. The lady in front of me had a cart filled with junk food. People don’t even buy healthy food when they’re not in a hurry, I thought.

Saturday brought a little rain and kept my husband home. “I’m going for a swim,” he said. We pulled out a couple of pairs of goggles and all did our laps. I showered, my last shower for the week, I thought. I made dinner, my last fully home-cooked meal for the week, I thought. I filled the washer machine with water for flushing toilets and washing hands in case the water stopped pumping.

Then we waited. The kids wanted to stay up for the storm. We told them they would miss it if they slept too late. We stayed up and watched the coverage.

I didn’t sleep well. There is a very tall pine tree behind my bedroom, and I was worried it would crash through the roof and land on me while I was sleeping. I kept waking up, and turning on the television to make sure we still had electricity and satellite service. At 3:00 a.m. there were young men walking around in the streets of the evacuated town of Long Beach with a blown-up dolphin. At 4:00 a.m. there were people swimming at Long Beach. At 5:00 a.m. the eye was coming into the tri-state area. At 8:00 a.m. it passed over New York City. It was downgraded to a tropical storm.

At 10:00 a.m. the phone rang. My little brother had called to check up on me. “We’re fine,” I answered groggily, “We were sleeping.” I went back to bed, and when I woke up at 11 the storm was over.

The kids woke up and looked out the windows.

“We told you it would just be a little rain,” my daughter said.

“You did say that,” I responded.

“And you said it would be a big storm,” she prodded.

“None of us is the expert. You made a lucky guess,” I said.

I was thankful we were okay and that everyone we knew was okay, but I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. I had kind of wanted my kids to experience a real storm – but safely. One of these days there really will be a direct hurricane hit here, and nobody will believe it.

Upon further inspection, I discovered my gutters had come a little lose in three spots. That will require some tacking down. Maybe we did have enough of a storm after all.

My daughter and I made a pillow together – so the weekend wasn’t a total loss. I drove to the library to return a movie. The traffic lights were out. I passed three uprooted trees.

On the radio, a meteorologist stated that this year several hurricanes will follow the same path. The next one is due in 15 days. “Consider this last one a dress rehearsal for the direct hit of a real hurricane,” said another of my favorite meteorologists.

I have a full stock of batteries and water, a roll of strapping tape, and five loaves of bread. Maybe I should leave the flowers in the garage.

Snow: A Lesson in Temporal Beauty

“Where’s my Frosty ?!?” I heard my three-year-old exclaim on Sunday morning, as she went downstairs for breakfast and looked out the back door.

We had had a blizzard the previous weekend, which left behind a record 26.3 inches of snow here on Long Island. The first day it was too dry to make a snowman and the older kids had spent much of the day making trails in the snow for her to walk through. By the third day, there was enough moisture for them to make large snowmen and even a snow bunny. My three-year-old had proudly put the finishing touches on the bunny, adding a purple scarf for it to stay “warm”.

After one week of white beauty, it rained – and rained – and rained – enough for most of all that snow to be washed away. All that was left of the snow creatures were sad little piles of hats and scarves; a carrot; and caps for dishwashing liquid that had served as green “eyes”.

The kids explained to her that Frosty had melted but that it would snow again soon and he would “come back to life someday”.

“IT’S…NOT…FAIR!” she screeched, so that I could hear her from the opposite end of the house upstairs.

When I came back downstairs, I tried again to explain it to her. “The things of this world fade away,” I quoted to the older children, which of course went over her head.

It’s a lesson that children quickly learn; one that can leave them feeling disenchanted, depending on how their parents handle it.

[Here my eleven-year-old hops on my computer and inserts what she thinks my thoughts must be. I leave it because I find it extremely amusing.] I think that it should snow when I want it to snow so I can be happy and have my children not messing the house around so it would be clean and peaceful. Until they come in the house again ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh it is messy again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Here my twelve-year-old takes a hold of my keyboard and, like her younger sister, comes frighteningly close to the truth of how I feel.] Although the kids mess up the house when they come in from the snow, the peacefulness that I experience when they are out of the house is beyond amazing. Therefore I wish that it would snow anytime I wanted it to. I think that it should be impossible for the snow to come in the house, and then this world would be perfect! Oh yes, and one more addition. That the snow “creations” never melt so that I won’t have to ever hear that snow melting is not fair ever again!!!!!! [Children’s insertions end here.]

Knowing that the world is imperfect, we can find beauty in nature and admire its Creator, knowing that what He has planned for us in everlasting life is way beyond the glimpse He offers us here. We can show our children this, by praising the beauty given us, and letting them know that, although it does not last here on earth, there is a greater beauty beyond our imagination that will go on and on. Snow that does not melt and yet does not make us cold. Leaves that change color and yet do not die and fall to the ground. Greenery that does not make us sneeze and our eyes water.

The stability of the family the child grows up in is yet another glimpse for them into the security of God’s love. As parents we cannot be the perfect Father that God is, but we can give them our unconditional love; the comfort they need as they discover the pain that is inevitable in this world; and the nurturing of their childlike wonder that we should try our best to emulate.

Beauty in the Granite Sky

South Beach

It started out as a muggy, hot and humid day. I was stuck inside with work to do on my computer while waiting for my cable modem to be installed. The kids were tremendously patient, having a ball making mud pies in the backyard. My eldest one was away for the weekend and they were hoping to do something exciting to make her jealous.

“Can we go to the beach?” they asked me repeatedly.

“Maybe…we’ll see…let’s see when the guy gets here and how the weather looks…”

I looked at the newspaper and secretly planned to take them to the movies at 3:20. That time came and went and the installation was still not done. I grabbed my Flannery O’Connor book and sat on the couch, fighting sleep because I hadn’t slept well the night before.

Finally, at 4:30 I was free to leave the house. I looked up at the sky. There were dark grey clouds in one direction. If I drove in the opposite direction I might be able to beat the storm to Smith Point Beach.

“Okay everyone,” I finally declared, “If you want to go to the beach get your suits on and meet me in the car in five minutes.”

It’s amazing how fast kids can get something done when properly motivated.

We drove all the way down William Floyd Parkway. It was remarkable how different the blue sky in front of me looked in comparison with the darkness in my rear-view mirror. By the time we crossed the bridge, the grey was right on the other side of the bridge from the beach.

We walked through the tunnel as the lifeguards were clearing the water. People were leaving in droves, giving us odd looks as we walked in the opposite direction. As we walked onto the beach, the darkness completely covered us. We had traveled light (carrying nothing but cell phone, keys and glasses) and were prepared to run to the tunnel if there was thunder or lightning.

As the ocean came into view, we were struck with awe. The waves were huge in the blue-black water. The huge, billowing granite clouds came almost down to the water, leaving a strip of blue directly over the water as we looked straight ahead. To our sides, light grey came all the way down to the ocean.

“Maybe it will blow over,” suggested my ever-optimistic ten-year-old who has an uncanny tendency to be correct.

“Somehow I doubt that, but it was definitely worth coming just to see this. Too bad I didn’t bring my camera.” I checked the time on my cell phone. 5:05. We’d probably be out of there by 5:15.

The kids climbed on top of a mound of sand. “You stay on top of there,” I warned my three-year-old. I could see the force of the rip tide. Ever daring, she tried to step off. “The ocean wants to take you away,” I said jokingly but meaning it quite seriously, knowing with her personality this comment wouldn’t scare her but give her a healthy respect of the ocean, “Do you want to go out there or stay here with your Mommy?”
She gave me a smile and a hug that meant, “Definitely here with you, although that sure looks fascinating.”

“Too bad you didn’t bring your camera,” my daughter said.

“You should write about this on your blog,” said my son.

“Well, sometimes it is good just to take in a scene and store it in your memory. I can definitely describe this in words,” I promised.

At 5:15 it started to rain, lightly. The few families around us left. Apart from a few surfers, we were alone on the beach. “Let’s go,” I said. I turned around and saw that the shades of grey were lightening, letting in bits of blue. “Or maybe not. Let’s see what happens.”

By 5:25 it had stopped raining and the sun was making its entrance through a hole in the clouds behind us. The blackness in front of us had turned to dark blue. The waves became calmer and I allowed the kids to put their feet in. “Just your feet, if you get your clothes wet we’ll never do this again.”

I tucked my ten-year-old’s glasses into my shirt for safe keeping. Last time we came at night she lost them under a wave and these were a replacement pair. I had made the same threat last time, but this is one that they know I don’t follow through on. I held onto both my three-year-old hands and kept vigilant watch that the eight- and ten-year-olds didn’t go past their knees. I hoped I wouldn’t drop my daughter’s glasses myself.

Now the sky above us was such a pretty pattern of changing blues and whispy white clouds. I hated that we would have to leave soon, but we still had to shower, eat dinner, and get to the library.

At 5:45 we went up to the boardwalk to clean off. The showers were too cold, so I washed the little one’s feet and shoes (as well as my own) in the warm water fountain. We had forgotten to take towels, so we got into the leather seats of the car as we were.

On the way back, we re-entered a uniform grey mist. The rain increased as we came closer to our house.

We’d salvaged a little beauty from what most would call a really crummy day.

Rain over Snow

A Capriccio View Of A Town With Figures On A Frozen Canal

It’s a child’s worst nightmare: After a freshly fallen snow, it rains before they get to play in it. School goes on as usual, and there is nothing left with which to make a snowman when they get home. Ugly piles of dirty ploughed snow line the streets. Boots step into piles of slush rather than soft white fluffy stuff.

My eldest daughter woke me up at 6:00 yesterday morning, announcing a still-falling snow, with significant ground cover. Rather than rise to power up the computer to check the online status of school cancellations, I turned on the local news channels. I impatiently flipped from channel to channel, waiting for the byline to get through all the New Jersey school districts. Finally I found Suffolk County and was disappointed that our district was not listed. I told the kids to go on and get ready.

The school bus comes to our driveway, so the kids were able to play in the snow while waiting. It was a dress-down day, so they did not have to wear their uniforms. After a half-hour, my daughter came in. “We’ve been waiting out there for an hour! Can you check again?”

So I fired up the computer and found that there was a two-hour delay. I told the kids to come on in until the appointed time. They got another twenty minutes of snow play while waiting.

Later that morning, the rain started; it kept up all day long. I was so glad we had made the mistake of going out twice that morning while the snow was still fresh!

They were disappointed that afternoon, but today made up for it. My backyard was paved with pools of ice, and they got to go ice skating in their boots!

A Half Snow Day

“It’s gonna snow tomorrow!”

“School’s gonna be canceled!”

The kids all came home yesterday carrying notes to the effect that a school closing was highly probably today.

“Should we bother making lunches?”

My eleven–year-old applied Murphy’s Law. “If we make lunches, it will snow and school will be canceled. If we don’t make lunches, it won’t snow and we’ll need them.”

“Hmm,” I responded, “You’d better make the lunches then.”

So they made the lunches. I promised to wake up at 5:00 to check the news for school closings. I did, flipping from channel to channel as our county was continually left out. The forecast now called for snow to start mid-morning. From the weather maps, it looked like Long Island was going to be spared much snowfall. I told the kids to pack their snow boots.

“What for?” they wanted to know.

“You’re probably going to have early dismissal because the snow is going to start after you get to school. Buckle up on the school bus and be careful!”

I warned my husband to try to get out early to get some work done. He is self-employed and works on the road. I also tried to get him to take a hat and gloves, but he did not believe that they would be needed. I’ll be kind and not say “I told you so” when he gets home. I am sure he can hear me saying it in his head right now.

By mid-morning, my toddler was excited to see a nice fluffy snow falling. She can now pronounce all of her syllables. “Snow,” she can say, replacing her former “No”. (No also used to mean “nose”, as well as No, which demonstrates the importance of context in listening to a toddler.)

She lifted up her Minnie Mouse to see out the window. “Snow car,” she says, meaning that the snow was starting to cover the car.

Having faith in more to come, I took out some butter and eggs to soften. We will make some chocolate chip cookies together.

I got a telephone call from the school nurse, letting me know that early dismissal was underway. She wasn’t exactly sure of the time, but she wanted to make sure we knew.

I can just see all the kids in their classes now, looking out the windows, letting words bounce off their ears. I hope the teachers are nice enough to keep the blinds open. When I was teaching, the principal said to close the blinds so the kids would not be distracted by the snow. How mean!

I’m excused from cleaning the floor today. Soon the kids will be tracking snow in and out of the house. Coats, scarves, wet mittens, and boots will be strewn all over the kitchen and laundry room.

The high school kids are home already. I see one on a skateboard, hitching a ride in the back of a car. Those fool kids!

It looks like it’s going to be a white Christmas for most folks this year. Especially in tough times, what a welcome treat that will be for all.

Above is a picture of the snow falling on the trees in my backyard at 1:00 this afternoon.

Before the Storm

The first week of school is always like a whirlwind, especially with the typical introductory half-days of Catholic school. The children come and go so quickly that I do not even attempt to get anything done that will require too much time or attention. My husband, toddler, and I take the mornings slowly, eating a leisurely breakfast while reading the newspaper. I do some light housework in the main living area, before bidding my husband goodbye and taking my little one out in her red wagon to wait for the bus to return.

School supplies having been purchased long ago, each child has a very specific list of exactly which supplies and books are to be brought in on which day. This used to drive me absolutely crazy. Fortunately, they are now responsible enough to take their own lists in hand and pack their own bags. Our summer work was not due until the second day of school, and so the first afternoon was spent putting the final touches on book reports and math assignments.

The second day we were free to go to the beach; our timing could not have been better. (On Friday the beaches were all closed in anticipation of a middle-rate hurricane expected to hit on Saturday.) The high tides over the weekend from Hurricane Gustav had wiped out a third of the beach, which dropped off steeply into the ocean. By Thursday the beach was clean and clear and the tide had dropped. The haze was so incredible; it settled down on the water so that swimmers seemed to disappear into another world.

We took our red wagon and settled ourselves among three deep holes that others before us had dug. The youngest one was afraid of the waves, and rightly so. She was happy to slide into the holes and find her way back up, over and over again.

Our fellow patrons were mostly middle-aged and older, with the exception of a few mothers with pre-schoolers in tow. A small group of college-aged youngsters showed up and shook things up for about fifteen minutes, taking movies of everyone with their cell phones and annoying us with their cigarette smoke. But they were easily bored and we were soon left in peace once again.

I had planned on leftovers for dinner and had a little free time on my hands after everyone had showered. I decided to try my hand at home-baked bread. I used the recipe for "quick bread" in The New Joy of Cooking. I mixed together the dry ingredients and let my eleven-year-old finished up. She was so excited to see the dough rise. Now I know why unleavened bread was used at Passover. Even quick-rising bread takes all night! They were all in bed by the time the loaf was completed.

My toddler loves bread, and this loaf looked enough like cake that she thought she was getting a real treat for breakfast. My husband thought it was good but a little “doughy”; and opted for store-made rye bread for his lunch. But when the kids got home from school, they finished off that loaf and my two older girls decided to make two more for the weekend.

I do not usually watch prime-time television, but my computer time has been taken up by the Republican Convention this week. I am so excited about Palin, a pioneering woman we can all aspire to emulate. Seeing the families of Palin and McCain together - What a tribute to a Culture of Life! I also loved when McCain said, "I hate war". People thought he was a war-monger but his position is so much more understandable after his life story has been expounded upon this past week.

While I work on my post, the girls come into the study every few minutes asking me questions to clarify the cookbook’s directions. I am trying to catch up on all my computer work for the week. After I clear out my e-mail box I then will set about removing all loose objects from the yard.

Hurricanes on Long Island are always fodder for excitement and speculation. The weather experts have long predicted another “hundred year storm” to hit us directly. Most of the time we get away with a few downed trees and power lines. We love to watch the weather channel. The kids hope for an electric outage so we can put our candles and batteries to good use. It seems like we’ve been cheated if we just get a little downpour; yet we are thankful when we are spared a catastrophe yet again.

Photograph taken September 4, 2008 by Elizabeth Kathryn Miller.