Hurricanes

     All of our east coast relatives weathered Hurricane Sandy pretty well.  In New Hampshire, Brook saw some ordinary wind and rain.  We were most concerned for Jon and Barbara, living so close to the water of Chesapeake Bay in Cardinal, Matthews County, VA, with trees around their house, the risk of flooding, and a sailboat to secure.  Jon got stuck in Portland, OR for the duration, but Barbara was well prepared, with a full house generator.  Her only inconvenience:  Having to toss on a raincoat and rubber boots to take the dog, Trudy, outdoors from time to time--against Trudy's better judgment. She hates water like a cat.
      Eric, Alison and boys battened down the hatches in Richmond, VA.  The City shut down, just in case, including their offices.  Eric and Alison share a nanny for their two boys with the Mullen family, whose two boys are the same age as Vake and Gil.  They trade off the location for the babysitting, two weeks at Eric's, two weeks at the Mullens. When the hurricane came, it was Eric's turn to host the kids, so the most damage he saw was from four little boys cooped up indoors--where both families came down with strep.
      Hurricanes are rare on the west coast, but Sam Sampson remembers the hurricane of 1962. He says: "Only been in one of these storms, the 1962 Columbus Day Storm that hit Oregon at Gold Beach, went up the Rogue River, over the top of Iron Mountain, through Powers, Myrtle Point, Coquille, Coos Bay, North Bend, Reedsport, Umpqua River, Elkton, Drain, Cottage Grove, Creswell, Eugene and all the way to Portland before giving it up. It's the only one I want to be in, ever!"
     I remember that one, too. I was a sophomore in high school. The school sat on a slight hilltop in Florence, OR (the town is flat; there's nothing higher). From there, I could look at the dunes across the Siuslaw River and see tons of sand being lifted into the air.  When the school bus didn't arrive on time, a friend and I started walking--it was only three miles to home. However, there were so many branches and wires breaking, that we returned to school and waited until the bus arrived. Milly had prepared. She watched for kids coming home, and batted down a sheet of metal from the neighbor's roof just as Tina and the neighboring Thompson girls were coming down the street.  Having lived in the midwest and having seen tornadoes, she had pulled the blinds over the windows in case the windows blew in, so that the glass wouldn't spray everywhere, and she had filled the bathtub with water, because our water was supplied by an electric pump in the back yard, and she knew the power would be out.  It was, for about four days. Vake had plumbing equipment for melting lead and occasional welding that he applied to heating water for cooking, and we had the fireplace that was our primary source of heat anyway--the house was supplied with only a couple of electric wall heaters otherwise, and one couldn't be used because there was a piano in front of it. But we waited for power in relative comfort.
     Milly was a member of the school board at the time. The Superintendent knew that at their next meeting, there would be protests from parents about kids being sent home, or not being sent home. He made sure that his supporters also spoke--a move that impressed Milly with his political shrewdness.  After hearing them out, the Board voted to buy a radio for the school in order to receive storm warnings--and of course, there hasn't been such a storm since.