By now, Dear Readers, I’m sure you’ve seen the horrific images of Hurricane Helene’s massive assault on the East Coast. Towns to the left of me, cities to my right just…drowned under an unrelenting assault of screaming wind, ceaseless rain and Biblical plague torrents of mud.
Call it Global Warming, call it Fate, call it Judgement Day, but whatever you call it, make no mistake. It was- and is- truly terrible.
People died. Countless homes were lost. Millions and millions of dollars in irreparable damage – never to be made whole by any insurance plan. Even as I type this, at least 500 people are still missing in the western part of the state- some whole families.
Thousands of people will be without power for the ENTIRE winter. And it gets cold there.
Awful.
I got lucky. My new home town was left unscathed. It got dark in the afternoon and rained kind of hard.
For fifteen minutes.
That was it.
The rain went away, the sun came out and I don’t even remember the rest of the day. No power was out’ed. No Internet connections lost.
I think I went out to dinner later that night with a friend.
Of course, I started to see the Hurricane Helene news bulletins right away.
But I was too busy doing other to stuff to be little more than grateful that it wasn’t my house that got swept away.
This time.
I made a couple of donations at Walgreen’s and Food Lion to help the less lucky.
And that was it.
I’m sorry to say.
I just didn’t realize that this Hurricane thing was a BIG deal.
Worldwide.
My first hint came when a Chicago buddy frantically called me.
The key word here is “called.”
I do not get telephone calls any more.
Instead, I get a daily barrage of texts, emails, IM’s, FB posts, X- formerly known as Twitter- responses, and various and sundry dings, pings, snippets of “Layla” and “Hey, Baby” by Bruce Channel to let me know that someone somewhere has to ask/tell me something ASAP.
No phone calls. Too old school.
The ONLY time people call me is when someone has died.
Yep, I’m at that age now. When my phone actually rings, I automatically think “Who’s dead?”
Like Olympia Dukakis in Moonstruck when Cher wakes her up.
(Okay, this isn’t that exact scene. I can’t find it. But I love this movie- and this exchange between mother and daughter- so here it is. Get over it.)
…As I was saying, a friend called. She was worried and wondering if I was okay.
I called her back and reassured her that everything here was A-ok.
Then Natasha called.
That surprised me a bit.
Natasha- full time educator, mother, wife, tutor, equestrian in the ten free seconds she gets a week- seldom if ever actually calls.
She’ll text at will but she usually calls me only if something has gone flooey on her end.
My life? Meh. She thinks it’s “interesting” at best, madcap and unpredictable when she’s feeling charitable- and Natasha seldom feels charitable.
As I’ve said before, she’s a Boston school teacher. Louisa Mae Alcott- but sterner.
Think this guy and you’re on the right track.
Hint: Salem Witch Trials. Ring a bell?
Natasha always wanted Betty Crocker for a mother. Instead she got me.
Who said Life is fair?
But somehow, disappointed as she may be with having Auntie Mame as a close relation, she sighs a lot and texts me just to check in.
Not this time, though.
This time there was an actual, worried phone call.
“Are you okay? I’ve been watching the news and I wanted to check to see if you’re under water,” she said.
“I’m fine, Sweetie. Thanks for checking. The hurricane passed right over us here and nothing happened. How are you guys?”
“We’re fine. Same old same old. I’m tutoring in a minute. Got to go.”
And that’s my cue.
“Thanks for the call, Hon. Have fun….”
Click.
But I didn’t have too much time to wait before my phone became active again.
I’m sorry that it took this disaster, but for me, it was a reunion windfall. I heard from more people in one day than I have since I moved here.
It was wonderful to know that my existence actually was of some importance to some terrific human beings.
I was chuffed.
A few days went by and I started to head out on a long-planned trip to Newport, Rhode Island. I had been looking forward to it for months, and by now, I was even more grateful that Hurricane Helene had come and gone and the weather for my visit was going to be picture perfect.
Take a look.
For the record, Hurricane Helene struck North Carolina on September 30.
On Wednesday, October 2- almost three days later- I got this text:
This was from my son, Nick.
Hmmm.
Three days?
How was I going to answer this?
I responded quickly.
Fine, right? No hidden agenda, accusation or sarcasm.
No comparison with his sister, no whining that it took him three days to even see if I was alive.
Nope.
Calm.
Reasonable.
A good mother.
When all the time, I was DYING to do this.
No answer at all.
Nada.
Zippo.
Niente.
Well, I missed my chance.
A daughter is a daughter all of her life.
A son’s a son…
Until a hurricane, I guess.
But knowing Nick- and hurricanes- I’ll get another crack at it.
Sooner or later.
Meanwhile, before you watch this classic clip below, can you take a minute and send a few bucks to literally bail out North Carolina?
I’d be grateful.
Thanks, y’awl.
Dear Ellen,
Only you could spin comic gold from a natural disaster!
GB
And only you, George, could solve the mysteries of peptides, mentor so many people and make crossword puzzles at three a.m. (All the while cracking wise like Julius Marx.) Thanks for the thumbs up, buddy.
Ellen…. so sorry I didn’t check on you. I still don’t have you situated in North Carolina in my mind. So glad you didn’t get the brunt of it. I hope you’re still enjoying it there and things are going well for you. I still have to get in touch and find out the whole story. Glad you finally heard from your kids… At least they’re not worriers.🙄
I hope you’re happy there and things are going well for you.
That’s ok, MTM. I’m not taking names and kicking butts. I’m fine, dry and happy. (Pooh, pooh, pooh as my mother would say.) No, to say my kids aren’t worriers is an understatement. They think I am unsinkable. Hope you and your handsome Woloshin-lookalike clan are thriving. Check in when you can. We both need to catch up.
Funny you should mention that, Ellen. My latest puzzle refers to this song and this bit of comic genius. Finally, at the intersection of crosswords and current politics, may I recommend your readers check out this site, which includes one of my puzzles.
George, you are a man of parts. (And if you’re missing any, call NAPA.)
Great story, as always.
Okinawa, 1973. I was a wide eyed, gung-ho Marine second lieutenant, totally immersed in my all-consuming duties. One day, to my pleasant surprise, I received a letter from my dad, a former Marine second lieutenant who had fought on Okinawa under quite different circumstances 28 years earlier. The letter read (verbatim): “Dear Joe: I know you’re alright. You know you’re alright. For God’s sake, let your mother know you’re alright. Love, Dad”. The Old Man sounded Reveille, I got the message, Mom started getting letters from her #2 Marine. Sometimes a swift boot in the ass is all it takes.
Dear Joe, Can your father please call Nick ASAP! Thanks.
Sorry, he communicates strictly by ouija board.
Dear G.I. Joe Mama, I’ll get a hold of Harry Houdini and ask him to ask your dad. We Sephardim have to stick together.
You tell a story like no other. I’m grateful the horrific Hurricane Helene passed over you – historically and literally. I might add another alternative name Demi – Molly Brown. You’ve always weathered the many storms in your life and luckily you transform into a lifeboat each time. So happy the sun is shining in your life.
Much love always,
Betty
My dear Betty, (that’s for Bacall, folks. My friend Joan is a dead ringer- sultry voice and all) Thanks for your kind words. Praise indeed. Yes, you’re sort of right. I ain’t down yet- and I do love Colorado. The sun has been shining on me lately- knock on wood. I want my last act to be my wow finish. Meanwhile, have I told you lately that I love you? I admire the heck out of you, too.
Ellen,
I’m glad you’re okay, and I haven’t wrapped my head around you living in NC. So sorry I didn’t call you, yes I’m a caller 😘
Hope you had a wonderful time in Newport.
Xo
Darling, Nancy. The spirit of Henry X looked down and smiled upon me. And the storm passeth. (On the other hand, if HENRY was mad at me- OMG. Wrath of God stuff.) I miss every Arenberg- no matter where in the universe they are. Call me anytime. Love to Polly, Glenn and the rest of your clan. And thanks.
My dear Ellen, I’m so very very glad you and the town where you live made it through the hurricane unscathed. Whew! It’s been sad reading about the destruction elsewhere because of the hurricane.
I don’t get phone calls from my kids either unless they think my life is under threat. And even then I may not get calls from all three. Even emails, messages and texts are sporadic. For us retired folks, we finally have the time for daily contacts but now our grown kids are busy with their jobs and their own kids. It’s a generational revolving door.
Meanwhile, I did think about the few people I know who live in any of the states hit by Helene, including you. So, I was glad to know all of you escaped the wrath of the hurricane. Next time there’s an outbreak of really bad weather, if there is a next time, I will do better with reaching out to you and the others.
Susan, So great to hear from you. Your words are as usual, a comfort and a boon. You’re so right about our “kids.” They are adults now and I take comfort in knowing they are happy, busy and productive. I try to do the same. Glad are your friends out my way came through Helene unscathed. I have tried to help and spread the word about others here not as fortunate. Take care, stay away from tornados and thanks.