Natural Disaster

Actually, make it a double

First they said it was a hurricane,

Then, “No it’s a tropical storm!”

It ended up mostly spitty rain,

Anyway, here’s the Safe n’ Warm.

Can you tell I’ve been reading a lot of children’s books?

IMAGE DESCRIPTION: The eye of the storm, looking very John Constable with all those blues and whites and greens. (source)

Beyond the existential horror of a tropical storm in the desert, the damage to my own life was minimal. A lot of places in Southern California were hit hard, but luckily Los Angeles wasn’t one of them. I was more shaken (literally) by the earthquake that hit in the middle of the downgraded hurricane, a real “hat on a hat” situation, natural disaster-wise.

When I last experienced a major hurricane, I was in my 20s and living in Brooklyn. Sandy flooded the subways and shut down the electric grid, but I remained unscathed. I remember the chaos and excitement of that strange time: everyone at bars since they couldn’t get into work, buses shepherding people into the city over the bridges, a general sense of chaos and excitement and survival. I was safe, I was lucky, and my only responsibility was keeping myself alive, a responsibility that doesn’t seem all that burdensome when youth protects you like bubble wrap.

This week, staring at the tiny human being whose existence on this earth I am directly responsible for, I realized I need some sort of radio that cranks and some sort of generator that generates. I moved my car from under a tree, I filled my bathtub, and I bought a huge flat of Arrowhead water. I went to our front “yard” (it is concrete) and broke down the patio umbrella, hid the couch cushions, and sheltered the tomato plants under an awning. My brother, who lives in New Orleans, sent videos from the National Weather Service. I watched them diligently, thinking about everything I needed but didn’t have: a crank radio, a charging brick, flares, maps, a lifejacket, a boat, a spaceship, a plan, some sort of plan, any sort of plan.

My sister and a couple of friends came over and we drank hurricanes (the cocktail), ate nachos, and watched the rain pour off the roof. I noticed how the earthquake had shifted the books apart on the mantle. The next day the sky was so clear and bright you could see the mountains in the distance.

The plan is still in progress,

The kit still unassembled,

I need to get it sorted out,

Before the earth next trembles.