Category: Uncategorized

I was working at my desk last week, on the computer, fairly focused when “Kaboom!!!”, and then everything went dark. I fully expected to turn my head to the right and find that my neighbor’s house had imploded, and was now nothing more than a pile of rumble, but it looked just at it had only moments before. Stunned and not knowing what exactly had happened, I moved my eyes around the room taking in the sights outside every window from where I sat, almost afraid to move. There is only one thing that makes that kind of explosive bellow, causing the power to be suddenly extinguished. A transformer had blown, but I was checking for something more villainous, just in case I was wrong!

The computer screen was black, the t.v. was dark, the hum of the refrigerator had been silenced, and the air conditioner had gone quiet. “Oh no! Not the air conditioner!” While most of the country is shaking out sweaters and donning wool socks, perhaps enjoying the silky warmth of hot chocolate, Florida is still basking in the warmer days of summer, even if the calendar does say October. No air conditioner reminded me of our all too recent encounter with Hurricane Irma, and I wasn’t interested in revisiting days without this comfort. What to do?

I tapped on the Florida Power and Light app on my phone and reported the outage. To their credit they were already aware, and reported back that there were five of us in the neighborhood effected. Seriously! Only five? Since when did I get so lucky? They gave me an estimated time for repairs to be done and apologized for the inconvenience. Okay, I could handle a couple of hours. Drop a few blinds to mitigate the outside heat from sneaking inside and use it as an excuse for not finishing the housework. I certainly didn’t want to work up a sweat!

Not much later, Kim called from work saying he had gotten a message from FPL saying the power was back on. Really? News to me. I was right here and I saw no signs that it was. The app told me to flip the main breaker if I didn’t have power, which I did, but nope…no power. So, I reported the outage again. An hour later I checked in with FPL. Good news, “Your power has been restored”. Looking around I could safely say, “No, no it had not.” I reported the outage yet again.

The indoor temperature continued to climb and now I was getting reports from FPL that it was going to take a little longer than they originally expected, and probably wouldn’t be back on till 8:30 that evening. Bummer! Checking in a bit later, the time and date had changed to an expectation of power just after midnight. Midnight! The inside and outside temperature currently matched! Patience was running on empty! This saga began at 11:30. It was now approaching 4:00 and the only messages I was getting from FPL were either erroneous or discouraging.

I checked again. Miracle of miracles! FPL said the power had been restored to my address! Do they even know where I live? All was quiet in the house. Too quiet. Electrical appliances make noise. We’ve become accustom to it, don’t even notice it, except when they aren’t making it. Then we notice. I flipped the main breaker again. Still nothing. What…did they think I would take them at their word? That I wouldn’t notice? I may not know the specifics of electricity, but I do know when I don’t have it, and I didn’t have it now!

Again I reported the outage. The message had now changed.  A crew was on their way. Well now, that was an improvement! Within the hour I heard the beautiful rumble of a heavy truck. This time when they said I had power, I really did!

You may wonder why I didn’t just call FPL? The only number to call was for a downed live power line. That’s an emergency.  What I had was an inconvenience. Those were to be reported through the app. I have no problem doing that, but might I suggest they work on that app. It lies!

….The rest of the story.

Morning came, September 11, and with it the wind still blew. When would that quit? I thought the storm was past us, but it wasn’t. The peninsula had taken some of the fight out of Irma. She was moving slower now, not as fierce, but still dealing a decent punch. I was weary of wind and wanted it to stop, or at least blow away from the apartment, instead of at us. The power was still out and the temperature inside, though not stifling, was beginning to rise. We opened the doors and windows to get an assist from the wind in keeping things cool. Sometime later that morning the wind shifted, signally that we were now on the back side of Irma. I thought I would be grateful for the respite of branches reaching out to grab at me, but I was reminded of the old adage, “Be careful what you wish for”.

The wind that was offering us some relief from the heat was now blowing away from us, and we began noticing a rise in temperature. Within a few more hours the wind would die completely, and what was my nemesis, now left us forsaken in the rising Florida summer heat. We were adults. We could handle some discomfort, but our 2 year old grandson, Apollo? What about him? The elderly, the young, and the sick suffer the greatest without modern temperature controls, and what is uncomfortable to us, could be deadly to him. Adding to our concerns was Cleo. She’s a bulldog, and can’t regulate her body temperature as well as other dogs. She began to pant heavily. At least the cat, Patches, does better in heat than all of us, but even she was looking for a cooler spot to lay.

We went to work making sure Apollo was hydrated and stayed that way. He would get cool baths, and Cleo got taken outside several times, to have a bucket of water slowly emptied on her to cool her off. The rest of us took cool showers, sometimes more than once a day, and we would monitor each other’s fluid intake to make sure nobody was getting dehydrated. Kim and I grew up in Phoenix. We were no strangers to heat. But, Florida is far from dry and the heat here is like stepping into a sauna, then wrapping yourself in a blanket. It is smothering. Morning turned into night, and still no power.

To add to our worries, Mariah and Aurora were discharged from the hospital late Monday afternoon, into a city where there was no gas and no electricity. Dusty had boarded up their windows before the storm, so there was no option for even a slight breeze. A newborn and a mother recovering from abdominal surgery turned out, because insurance would allow them to stay no longer. That would be another story. I couldn’t really blame the hospital. There were more expectant mothers waiting to get in, and babies don’t wait, but humanitarily it was cruel. Dusty and Mariah, new parents, trying desperately to keep their baby cool, not knowing what to do. She didn’t want to nurse, because the body heat was too great, yet she was hungry. There were enough tears to go around. Mariah called. Her voice in anguish. My heart broke. I couldn’t get to her. Not in the dark. Not with downed trees and power lines, and flooded roadways. All I could do was tell her how to keep Aurora cool, how to stay cool themselves, and assure her they would be alright. I felt helpless and once again I felt like I had abandoned my daughter. The agony of that would not leave me, and I wonder now if it ever will.

Mariah and Dusty fled in search of a hotel that might offer some relief from the heat. They found one, but there was no power there either. However, the room offered a window that could be opened, in hopes of getting a little assistance from the scant breeze there was. How can a storm all about wind speed and rain suddenly leave you with not even a whisper of air? In the dark I texted, “Are you safe”. Mariah texted back, “Yes”. I vowed in the morning I would fix it! I didn’t know how, but I would make everything right! That’s what I do! Damn Irma! The heat pressed down around me all night. Sleep was fitful. Cleo was panting hard again and I got a glass of water to cool her belly. I could hear Apollo in the other room, restless. The heat was getting to be too much.

Tuesday, September 12, and another day with no power. The inside temperature starting higher than the day before and the sun had yet begun to rise. I called my sister in Arizona. Still the middle of the night there, but she was instantly awake. Conserving our cell phone batteries, communication was kept to essential. “Susan, I need a hotel room in Orlando with power and a/c!” We had been 40 hours without power and it wasn’t over, but we were over it. My grandbabies were suffering. I couldn’t let that happen. Not any longer. Not if there was a refuge. Susan went to work. She checked and double checked and made arrangements for us all to run again. This time not from the storm, but from what the storm left behind. I called Mariah, gave her the address, and told her we’d meet them there. I could hear the relief in her as she replied, “As soon as we can find some gas.” That took them 3 hours, but fueled up they were on their way. We all were!

As a family we gathered. Six adults, 1 toddler, 1 newborn, a dog, and a cat! Thank God! Kim and I stepped back to observe the laughter and the hugs. It’s what we needed. To be together. Kim and I held each other and cried. Tomorrow was another day, but today we were all safe, and heaped blessings upon whomever created air conditioning!

For the next three days we rested in Orlando, except Ben, who is a pilot and had to go back to work. I didn’t want to let him go. I just needed us to be together a bit longer. On Thursday, Sept 14, 88 hours after we had lost power, Ben and Becky had it back! She was anxious to get home. Kim went back to Melbourne with her, determined that no one would be alone until we were sure everyone would be okay. No word yet on Mariah and Dusty’s place, and the only promises coming out of Naples was for sometime Sept 22nd! What? Seriously? I couldn’t blame Florida Power and Light, and we had passed convoy after convoy of power trucks coming from other states to help. They were doing their best, and we were grateful, even if we had to wait.

Friday, Sept 15th, Dusty got word from his neighbors that they had power. Time for us to make our way back to Ft. Myers. Gas was still in short supply, so we had to be mindful of the gauge way before fuel was needed. Evidence was all around us of the fury that had ripped through the state six days prior. Twisted and shredded signs and billboards. Uprooted trees. Massive live oaks and mahogany trees that couldn’t withstand the force of nature. Palm trees snapped in half. Fences downed and twisted metal. What would await us?

There was a canyon of debris as we approached their house, but we breathed a sigh of relief. There was screens missing from the pool cage, the back fence was destroyed, quite a few shingles were missing, and in four places Irma attempted to lift the roof, but was unsuccessful. No flooding, no broken windows. A neighbor had an oak resting on the roof. One of Ben’s neighbors had an oak land on his car, smashing it like a toy. There were some mysterious leaves that had been blown inside. We can’t figure out how they came to be, but things were relatively minor compared to what could have been. Now to begin putting everything back together, starting with the refrigerators. With no power for so long everything had to go. Time to start over.

Kim and I went to Naples the following day, Saturday, Sept 16th. Driving south our eyes were large. Everywhere was evidence of Irma’s wrath, but what we were not prepared for was the sight of our neighborhood. Twisted metal, styrofoam, and personal possessions ravaged. Homes plundered by Mother Nature, stripped to their bones. I could bear up no longer, and the tears streamed down my face as I sobbed. I still had no idea how our own home took the storm, but these were our neighbors, and we bore their grief with them. Rounding the corner it was a miracle to see our little home, this old tin can, built in 1976 still standing. She was a bit battered, but where it mattered most, she stood strong.

We had lost several windows in the Florida room, a couple of screens, the shades were shredded, and things weren’t exactly where we had left them, but they were still there. The main part of the house had taken it like a warrior. Only a little water damage from an old leak in the roof. The rest was as we left it. The foliage was battered and thinner, but I’m sure it will all come back. We were lucky. Unbelievably so, especially in light of the carnage that surrounded us. Our next door neighbor had lost her carport. Its roof laying in our yard. The one across the street had a rain gutter impale the roof. The home behind us had the entire side ripped off and I have no idea where his carport is. There were roofs missing, lanais torn off, carports collapsed, some homes were gutted open, as if filleted. There was metal everywhere and the pall of defeat was in the air. Not many people were around. There was still no power, but those that were there were busy gathering up the pieces of broken lives. They are just things, but they meant something to someone.

We still had no power and no clean water. We emptied out the fridge, which I wished I had thought to do before we ran for our lives. I will just say, Yuck! We didn’t stay long, choosing to leave the heavy lifting for when we could get some reprieve from the heat. We stood in our carport, held each other tight, and thanked the Lord for we had been blessed. We do not know why us and not others, but we were thankful, and humbly grateful for all who prayed for us along the way. A special message of gratitude must go out to my sister, Susan, who made things happen, when I couldn’t. And for her generosity and that of my sister, Charlotte, in our time of need. It will never be forgotten. I hope that sometime soon I can stop being afraid of the wind.

It would be 13 days that we would be without power, and 15 that we would be on the run. Some of our neighbors will never be back. Their homes were condemned. I learned a lot. I learned where we fell short, and where we excelled. I plan to put together a hurricane notebook for the next time. And there will be a next time. This is Florida!

It was August 30th when Hurricane Irma formed far away in the Atlantic near Cape Verde, off the coast of Africa. It’s hurricane season. When those “x’s” show up on NOAA’s National hurricane map, I pay attention. The advantage of a hurricane over a tornado is the warning. Tornados offer little. Hurricanes you can see coming, so when it became obvious that Irma was intent on hunting Floridians, we began the process of getting out of her way.

We had a plan and a checklist, and had always said, that if it was a Category 4 or 5 we would leave, but that was before real life dumps ingredients into the best laid plans. Mariah, our daughter was pregnant, and not just pregnant, past due so there would be no running, at least not for her or her husband, and there was no way I was leaving them behind.

Mariah was to be induced on Tuesday, September 5th, but with the storm looming the hospital was saving beds for those that were in active labor. Tuesday became Wednesday, and Wednesday became Thursday. The clock was ticking! Irma was expected on Sunday, September 10th. I figured that if the baby came by Thursday, maybe we would be able to make a run for it on Saturday. But that isn’t what happened.

Kim and I knew we couldn’t stay in our home. We live in Naples, in Zone A, the hot zone for storm surge, and in a mobile home. I felt both glad and guilty that we only rent this old home. We quickly removed everything from the lanai that wasn’t nailed down, stacking it in the Florida room, which was only slightly more secure than the lanai, and piling things we absolutely wanted to save inside the house. Gas was already in short supply, as was water, and we were days before we’d see landfall here in Florida. Store shelves were sparse and we handed the last roll of duct tape to another shopper who needed it more than we did. We packed our suitcase, loaded two boxes with non-perishable food, and important papers, added three cases of water and one of Gatorade to the backseat, made room for Mariah’s dog that we were babysitting, along with our cat. We knew it was likely we wouldn’t have a home to come back to, so we took one last look around, knowing it could very well be the last time we would see our things. None of it mattered, but the photographs, those were hard to place into plastic tubs and walk away from. Locking the door, we were now running, at least as far as Ft. Myers, 50 miles up the road. The plan was to hunker down in Mariah and Dusty’s house and ride it out.

Mariah was finally induced on Thursday, but it wasn’t working. Something was wrong, and by Friday, September 8th, the decision was made that a c-section was necessary. Turns out our little Aurora was playing jump rope with her umbilical cord and had it tangled all around her neck and leg. In the end everyone was safe and healthy and we were blessed, but a c-section meant there would be no running. Not for them.

For awhile it was a bit like playing dodge ball. Would Irma hit Miami and travel up the east coast, or turn west and hit Naples? Friday, September 8th her path became clear. West is was. Our son, Ben, and his family live in Melbourne, on the east coast of the peninsula. They had originally planned to get out, but with everyone trying to escape, it became difficult to find a place to go, and with fuel in short supply, no guarantee you could get there. Instead, they would ride it out with us in Ft. Myers. That was until Irma made the turn! It was too late to run, but they made the decision to stay in Melbourne and Ben called, begging Kim and I to leave Ft. Myers to come to them. He didn’t know if we’d be safe at Mariah’s home. They are in Zone B for storm surge, but they are close to canals, fed by the Caloosahatchee River. That was a concern. Visions of Houston filled my head, and we brought our kayak and life jackets in case they were needed. It was essential to make a decision and soon!

Kim and I waited in the hospital to see our first granddaughter. The excitement of such an event should not be clouded with anxiety about the fury of Mother Nature. We paced as all waiting grandparents do, but we also kept an eye on the enormous windows that belied the tale that was to come. It looked so beautiful, with just a gentle breeze. It was easy to pretend all was right in the world. Finally the moment we set eyes on Aurora. So beautiful, so tiny, so innocent. Mariah looked joyful, though tired. Dusty’s eyes were filled with delight and love. It was surreal in the scope of all that was happening, but that meant nothing to them. They were a family. Kim and I took turns holding Aurora and feeling blessed, and for a few moments family was all we were.

Dusty was worried about us being safe at their house too. He and Mariah wanted us to go to Ben’s. I felt like I was abandoning my daughter. Kim worried about running into car trouble on the road, not being able to find help, not being able to get gas. If there was something to worry about, you can believe we did, but everyone was begging us to leave. We didn’t know if Melbourne would be any safer, but at least it wasn’t in the direct path and Ben lives upstairs. There was some comfort in that! Mariah took my hand, “Mom, we are in the safest place that we can be. You are not abandoning me. Now take my other baby (their bulldog Cleo) and run!”

After only a few minutes of baby cuddling time, Kim and I did just that. We went back to their house, scrambling to gather up the rest of the stuff that needed securing before the storm, unplugging appliances and lamps, throwing photo albums up high and under cover in case they get hit with flooding. We left food and water behind for them, so they would have supplies when they got home. Gathering up the pets once again, we locked the doors and fled!

Driving from the west side of the peninsula to the east side, in the dark, with occasional flashes of lightning that illuminated foreboding clouds, warning of what was to come, lit the fires of urgency, but the road was eerie. Stores were closed, including fast food. Gas stations closed, pumps wrapped in plastic to protect electronics and keep nozzles from lashing out in the wind. There were few people on the road and those that were, were like us, trying to get out of the way.

Irma sparked the largest mass evacuation in Florida history. Not only was she bearing down as an unprecedented Cat 5, with a sustained wind speed of 185 mph, she was large, spanning 300 miles. At its widest part, the peninsula is only 160 miles across. It really didn’t matter where you were. If you were on the peninsula you’d be impacted, it was just a matter of degree.

We drove on through the dark, merged onto I-95 to a surreal situation. Six lanes nearly devoid of traffic! It was like the rapture had happened and we were the few left behind. At 11:30 p.m. we made it to Melbourne. Exiting the freeway I saw the most fantastic sight! An open gas station and they had gas! We stopped to gas up, not knowing when we would encounter more fuel, or when we would need it. We were taking no chances and nothing for granted.

Arriving at Ben’s we were finally able to breathe more deeply, lay our heads upon our pillows and rest. Tomorrow would be another day of prepping, making sure we had covered our bases and were ready for whatever Irma could throw at us. I knew Mariah and her family would be safe inside hospital walls, now it was good to be with Ben and his family. No matter what, I knew we were stronger together.

Sunday, September 10th, like most we were glued to the Weather Channel. In hours Irma would show Florida what she was made of. Overnight Cuba had taken a swing at her and we cheered as those blessed tall mountains of the island did what they could to tear Irma apart, but she was still coming. So, we waited, turned the a/c up, knowing eventually we would lose it and wanting the apartment to be as cool as possible when it happened, lined up the flashlights, and the candles. We were ready.

Irma walloped the Keys as a Cat 4 and then made second landfall on Marco Island, 8 miles due south of our home in Naples as a Cat 3, but still recording wind gusts of 145 mph! We were in line for a direct hit. The Weather Channel had people on the ground and as luck would have it, there was a storm chaser parked just outside our neighborhood, waiting for the northern eye wall. He would not be disappointed. We saw no way our home would survive and I began to cry. Mariah and Dusty sent pictures of them now camped in the hospital hallway, away from all windows. Things in Naples were turning from bad to worse and all we could do was wait.

We fixed a hot supper, knowing it might be awhile before we could cook again. The wind had begun to gust in Melbourne, and the rain had started to squall. I heard a loud crack and turned in time to see a huge tree come crashing through the bushes toward us like a T-rex on rampage, as it had broken in half and toppled over, just missing Ben’s lanai. There would be more than one tree snapped in half, or completely uprooted in the neighborhood before it was over.

Time and again the lights flickered through dinner. Each time we’d breathe a sigh of relief as they came back on. At 7:30 p.m. it went dark for good. They would not come back on for another 88 hours. Soon the emergency alerts started going off on our phones. Tornado warnings, the unpleasant byproduct of a hurricane, as if sustained monster winds were not bad enough! We finally had to turn the alert system off. They were sounding every few minutes. It was unnerving and there was not a thing we could do about it. This is Florida, not Kansas! You won’t find a cellar anywhere here. There is no safe place to be. The best we could do was move away from the windows and put it in the hands of God. One natural disaster at a time, please!

I lay on the floor in the dark. I listened as the wind lashed out at the trees and drove the rain. Trees buckled and fell, yet Irma kept coming, and coming, and coming. When would it end? Because I couldn’t do anything else, I texted my sister at 1:30 a.m., her time and simply said, “I can no longer stand the wind”.

….To be continued

 

 

As we all excitedly await the total solar eclipse today, I’m wondering how mankind ever made it to the top of the food chain? Constant reminder after reminder not to stare directly at the sun, or it could permanently damage your eyes is blasting the radio, television, newspapers, even social media. Is this really necessary? I understand it’s important to instruct children not to look at the sun. Probably more important to drive it home with teenagers who think they are invincible, but the rest of us? We should already have this filed in the brain somewhere as something we should not be doing, having learned it long ago.  Perhaps the desire to look bare-eyed at an eclipse is just too powerful to overcome, and we lose all control over reason and sanity.

I saw on the news and read on social media that you should bring your pets inside to keep them from looking at the sun during the eclipse. Now why would they do that? Does your dog lay out in the yard and gaze at the sun on any given day? I’d venture a guess that as the sky darkens your pet could care less about why, but if you want to make sure, by all means, bring them inside. Heaven help you if your pet is a horse! I have never heard about any animal going blind because they looked at the sun during an eclipse. You don’t even have to tell them not to do it. They seem to be smart enough to figure that out on their own. They are not on the top of the food chain. We are, but we have to be told, and repeatedly reminded not to do it. Better yet, we should just stay inside lest we forget.

Many schools across the nation are canceling outside recess and lunch during the eclipse, as well as the educational opportunity to view something that hasn’t traversed our entire country in 99 years! What a shame! School authorities say they are choosing safety over science, but what they are really choosing is to avoid litigation should some child decide that the laws of physics don’t apply to them. So, don’t bother teaching them not to look at the sun. Just keep them inside so they don’t. How do we manage to let them play outside any day? The sun is always with us.

It is good to protect, especially the children, but a better way to protect is to teach, not to deny. If a dog is smart enough not to look at the sun, I dare say mankind is smart enough to learn not to as well. And if not….well then we haven’t earned our place at the top of the food chain.

 

Yesterday I saw a report on the news about a company that is microchipping their employees, eliminating the need to wear a badge. The microchip in their wrist gives them access to everything from entry into the building, use of the copy machine, and even the vending machine. Some people embrace the idea, others not so much. I’m one of the others.

Perhaps it’s the generation I grew up in, or how I was raised. We read 1984 in high school English, learned about Nazi Germany and the Gestapo, and most importantly the mark of the beast in the book of Revelations. You say you want to put a microchip in my wrist so I won’t have the burden of carrying a wallet or a badge? I don’t think so! Not happening!

Homeland Security came under attack after 9/11, trying to balance security with personal privacy, yet ironically we voluntarily post everything about where we are, what we’re doing, who we’re with, whether we’re working out, or pigging out, our political views, what we find funny, you name it on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and whatever else is out there. We’ve all checked out webcams on the city pier, on the beach, of downtown, the local ski resort, or any other place of interest. Drones are so popular now that the FAA is having to come up with regulations for their use, and who hasn’t been annoyed with these “hobbyist” who invade our personal space and privacy? The government doesn’t have to watch us. They don’t have to tap our phones, or read our emails. We’re feeding the information to them with all our gadgets! Does that make me a conspiracy theorist, a cynic, or a realist?

My daughter-in-law pointed out that these things are edgy, suspect, and objectionable to us, but by the time my grandson grows up they might be as common place as a cell phone. Perhaps, but I hope not. There is a line in Jurassic Park, “Scientists are actually pre-occupied with accomplishment. So they are focused on whether they can do something. They never stop to ask if they should do something.” Whether or not they should be doing this is secondary to whether or not we should be lining up to let them, just because it’s the latest tech gadget.

We’ve all seen the commercials for the Echo gadget that answers to the name of Alexa. You can ask her any question. She is your own personal encyclopedia of information. Like anyone knows what an encyclopedia is anymore. Google it! She can turn on your lawn sprinklers, place an order, play games with your kids, control your t.v., control your smart home. Whoa! I don’t want a device that can control my home. Sounds too much like sci-fy to me! 2001 Space Odyssey, The Terminator, Battlestar Gallactica, The Matrix, and Minority Report. Those movies never ended well for those that didn’t join, “The Resistance”.

This morning I was awakened by this very strange sound. The air conditioner was running and I was having difficulty trying to place where it was coming from, or even that I was really hearing something out of the ordinary. Yes, it was something that shouldn’t be there, but what was it? It was sort of squeaky, perhaps a bit of a rattle, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Was it coming from the kitchen? The living room?

It was early, still dark outside, and my eyes argued with me, begging me to go back to sleep, but my ears were alert, and if it was humanly possible, which it is not, they would have been twitching trying to locate where that sound was coming from. I decided if I ever wanted to get back to sleep I had better get up and investigate.

I shuffled out to the living room and glanced into the kitchen. Nope, nothing unusual coming from either one of those places. Nearing the door I heard it again. This time louder. For a moment it stopped all together, but as I leaned my ear against the door it started up again! It was right outside my front door! My heart was thumping! “Shhh, quiet! I can’t hear over the sound of you pounding in my chest!” There it was, “scritch, scritch, scritch.” I had seen “Signs” and “War of the Worlds”! There was no hushing my heart now!

Quickly retreating to the bedroom, I shook Kim’s leg as he lay sleeping. His eyes opened quickly. I immediately placed my finger over my lips to indicate he should remain silent and motioned for him to follow me. He leaned into the front door, but heard nothing. I whispered, “Wait”. There is was, “scritch, scritch, scritch”. Kim’s eyes looked quizzical. It was obvious he didn’t know what it was either. He moved to the front bedroom, which has a window that looks out onto the landing. Peering through the curtains, he saw nothing there, yet the sound continued, “scritch, scritch, scritch”.

Kim’s next move was bold, yet in my eyes, ludicrous! He reached for the locks! He was going to open the front door! You’ve seen this in every alien movie you have ever watched! Some fool decides to get a closer look and ends up slimed, or souped, or otherwise terminated by a 10 ft creature with bug eyes and crazy long fingers!

The door opening just a crack, I waited for those long green fingers to dart through the breach, ready to seize one of us by the arm and drag us to our doom! The sound was louder now. Much louder and infinitely more recognizable!

What was out there was green alright, but it wasn’t aliens. It was frogs and from the sounds of it, hundreds of them. That might have been an exaggeration, but we have had a lot of rain lately and it sounded as though every frog in south Florida was singing in chorus about it! You’d think with the cacophony I would see one or two in the morning still hanging around, chatting about their middle of the night sing-a-long, but nope. They had all retreated to wherever frogs retreat to in the middle of the day, and because I didn’t see nary a one, who really knows for sure that they were little green frogs and not little green men? Scritch, scritch, scritch.

 

 

I was watching a segment on morning television that was offering suggestions for Father’s Day gifts. Who doesn’t have a difficult time coming up with the perfect gift for Dad that doesn’t involve a tie, cologne, or socks? Which, by the way, are not perfect! My dad passed away a long time ago and though I no longer stress over the perfect Father’s Day gift, I still have men in my life that present a challenge a couple of times a year, like birthdays and Christmas. Women are much easier to shop for. Don’t believe me, head to your local mall. My son once quipped that you could knock down the walls between stores in a mall and they would all look the same. Just rack after rack of women’s clothing. Men’s clothes are sandwiched between children’s and home goods. Last time I was at the mall, I looked. He’s right.

So, this morning when this segment came on I paid attention and noticed their suggestions, which consisted of tools, like a drill or a lawn mower. They even had a suggestion for gym equipment, like a treadmill, free weights, or even a gym membership. I raised my eyebrows. Really? That’s the best you’ve got?

In my house we have a rule. If I don’t ask for an appliance such as a vacuum or a blender as a gift, don’t get me one, and gym equipment is off-limits. My husband once gave me a treadmill for Christmas. I had always wanted one, but I had not asked for it, and since I didn’t ask for it, I assumed there was an underlying meaning attached to the gift. He thought he was being thoughtful. I thought he was being brazen. And a gym membership? A bold move I would not suggest anyone make.

I assume men have similar rules. Getting a yard tool as a gift translates to weekend “honey do” projects. Besides, you give your dad a drill for Father’s Day and he knows your mom put you up to it. Gym equipment screams, “Mom thinks you’re packing on the pounds”. Tools are great gifts, but make sure the man in your life wants them, needs them, and more importantly “asks” for them. Otherwise, stick to the fishing rod, the golf club, the paddle board, and if you must, the tie.

 

The other day my sister asked me what it was about Florida that created so many thunderstorms? I hadn’t really thought about it, and when I did I realized how much I had forgotten from high school science. It’s possible that I wasn’t paying attention, but that doesn’t sound right.

As it turns out, Florida out distances the rest of the United States when it comes to thunderstorms and keeps pace with the world’s maximum thunderstorm areas, equatorial Africa, near Lake Victoria, and the Amazon basin. Those two areas have thunderstorms virtually year-round, whereas Florida’s thunderstorms are more seasonal, from spring to late fall. The western half of the Florida peninsula counts more than 80 days of thunder and lightning in a given year. That’s almost three months!

We are just now kicking off the rainy season and thunderstorms are beginning to show up for the party. It’s been a particularly long dry spell, so the summer rains are welcome. The light show these powerful storms produce are beautiful, fascinating, and lethal. All too often people don’t respect its power and the results are deadly. The very thing that makes Florida such an attractive tourist destination…warm weather and lots of water, also makes it the lightning capital of the country.

Lightning is fascinating! It super heats the air to 50,000 degrees, resulting in the shockwave we call thunder. Lightning has positive and negative polarities, though most strikes come from the negative charge at the bottom of a cloud. Less than 5% come from the top of a thunderhead’s anvil, where the positive charges hang out, but when it does, the strike can be 10 times stronger than a negative one, making them more deadly and more destructive. They can hit the ground directly beneath the cloud, but mostly these positive charges are found on the outer edges of the cloud and can release their energy more than 10 miles away, resulting in the phenomenon known as, “a bolt from the blue”.

As magnificent as lightning is to watch, its power is deadly and no more so than in Florida. Last year 38 people were killed in the U.S. by lightning in 17 states, 9 of them in Florida. It happens because we don’t want to be inconvenienced by something we feel is unlikely to happen. Using a wide lens it probably is unlikely, but what if you were one of those 38 at the beach, hiking, enjoying a family picnic, under an umbrella, jet skiing, working in the yard, working construction, or simply walking to the car, because you thought it couldn’t happen to you, only it did.

We’ve all gotten caught outside at one time or another. I have to climb a flight of stairs to our apartment. Some days they can be steeper and longer than usual. I take a deep breath before grasping the rail that I use to drag myself up to the landing, but when Thor is throwing lightning bolts from the sky I can make the dash up those stairs like an athlete in training, never even brushing my hand against that metal rail, because that would be crazy!

We had our first thunderstorm of the season a few days ago. LeAnn, a neighbor, who lives downstairs, was so surprised by it that she wondered what in the world the folks upstairs from her were doing to cause such a racket! It wasn’t until she saw the flashes of light that it dawned on her what was happening. Us upstairs neighbors get blamed for everything!

Today more thunderstorms are predicted as the raining season gets underway, sharing the spotlight with hurricane season, but that’s another story.

My friend, Jeanette, use to teach a Silver Sneakers class, an exercise class specifically designed for the over 50 crowd. She would pass on interesting information on occasion, good stuff for all of us, regardless of age. Most of it I would incorporate into my daily routine, except when she sent an article about how wearing flip-flops are not good for any of us. What!? Those are my favorite shoes, staples really, and actually my only footwear since moving to Florida. There was no way I was giving these up!

I don’t wear those cheap, yet cute flip-flops, big on fashion, but low on arch support. I wear fairly expensive ones, with strong arch support technology, therefore I knew my footwear was exempt from the problems they were talking about here.

This particular article talked about how your toes have to grip the flip-flop in order to keep it on your foot, which in turn messes with your gait. So, I paid attention to how I walked with my flip-flops on, almost walking into a pole with such focus!  I discerned no such toe gripping. That must plague the casual wearer only. I am an expert, having mastered walking in flip-flops with relaxed toes and normal gait. I’ve got this!

Having had knee issues for most of my life, I have altered my gait in order to compensate for the pain. Since having my knees replaced, I noticed that my shorter stride has become a habit. One that surely has not been reinforced by my incessant flip-flop wearing. Nevertheless, perhaps I should try a different sandal to see if I can elongate that stride, and eliminate some bad walking habits that could be causing me other issues. If nothing else, it’s a good excuse to buy a new pair of shoes.

I bought a pair of Tevas that strap on.  A small step up from the more convenient slide on flip-flop, yet still leaving my feet exposed to the Florida sun. Would you believe, the first thing I noticed was that my toes were not gripping my shoe! What?! How could that be? I never noticed my toes gripping before, but I could obviously feel a difference. My feet were relaxed. Is that the right word? Yes, they felt relaxed and because my shoes were strapped on, rather than gripped on, I was able to stretch out my stride. Who knew?!

I’m not here to do a promo for Teva. I have other issues with those strappy sandals, but my point is this…what other things are out there that we know we know, that we really don’t know? When you’re absolutely sure you know, super sleuth it. Do your own experiments and research, so that when you swear you know what you know…you really do know. Am I getting rid of my flip-flops? What, are you crazy?

Some people just love to run. That’s pretty evident with all the different marathons taking place on any given weekend around the country. The Boston Marathon, the granddaddy of all marathons, just took place on April 17th. 27,221 runners started that race, 26,411 finished it. But that’s just one race. There is the Disney World Marathon and the New York Marathon. You name the city and there is probably a marathon. Then there’s the Color Runs across the country that have become popular, and 10Ks for all occasions, along with the Two Mile Fun Runs for the less ambitious and more practical runners.

I am no longer a runner and I never was a distance runner. When I was in Jr. High I was on the track team. Must have been driven by a competitive spirit that was out of control, as I’m pretty sure I never found it “fun”. I was fast, but I was a cheetah! Able to gain top speed over very short distances. I gave it everything I had and then some, but when I crossed that finish line at 50 yards I was used up.

Why coaches insisted that everyone train by running a mile I have no idea. For me, running a mile was akin to running a marathon, felt dreadfully as long and equally painful! Why not have cheetahs practice what they do best, sprint? I never saw the cross-country team running sprints! They didn’t cross into my domain; I would happily stay out of theirs.

After I graduated from the 8th grade I hung up my cleats. I would run on occasion, over a very short distance, like to get out of the rain, or if I was late for class, but no one ever held a stop watch as I did it. There was one time however….

Shortly after the birth of my first child, Ft. Bragg, California, where we lived at the time, was hosting a 10K and  Two Mile Fun Run to celebrate the Gray Whale migration. See what I mean by “every occasion”? My husband, Kim, prefers the longer rhythms of a 10K, but I was coming off a hormonal overload and thought two miles wouldn’t be bad. After-all, they call it a “Fun Run”, so he joined me, pulling our son along in a rolling convertible backpack (I’m not sure they make those anymore), promising to stay with me. “It’ll be fun”, he said.

Long before we got to the mile mark it ceased to be fun for me! Distant memories suddenly flooding back. When I rounded the corner to head back to the finish I was quickly enlightened that the last mile of “fun” was to be run uphill! I waved Kim and my baby on, ordering him to, “save yourselves”! At my insistence, he and Ben pulled away and it wasn’t long before I lost sight of them.

I finished and I wasn’t last, but I had a revelation. There is nothing fun about a “Fun Run” and I have never been tempted or lured into that trap again. If ever there was a more inappropriate word to be linked with running, I surely do not know it.

I recognize that some people need to run. Some run to clear their heads, to quiet their minds, to feel their muscles work. I don’t pretend to understand them, but I do cheer them. Later this month my sister will participate in her first half marathon, a little over 13 miles. Because she loves to run? No. Because she needs to run? No. Because her daughter asked her too. Now that’s love! She insists I don’t call it a race and I think she’s crazy, but most definitely I will cheer her on!