WOW! Lookad'dat! Talk about a Cabbage Night prank! Phew!
I hope that you will forgive me for being irreverent this evening, but I can't help it. So between prayers let me sneak in some random wisecracks about this storm.
We older folks are not too happy about phenomena of this nature. After all we don't appreciate being robbed of our bragging rights concerning foul weather and the sacrifices we made to get to school despite it all. We look at "Sandy" and we get downright disappointed because she is bigger than anything we can remember. When we got slammed by storms, they didn't have names. They just came and we hoped that the street lights would be lit in the daytime so that we would know that schools would not be in session. When the power went out, we went to school, slogging through waist - high snow and ankle - deep slush. At least that is what we tell our children. We can get away with it because none of these nasty expressions of Mother Nature's bad side ever had a name.
We heard these stories from our parents, and we tell them to our children. Now that "Sandy" has dumped her temper on us, our children have gained the upper hand. Except for one thing. What with all the computers, TV's, radios, I-phones, etc. I am sure that not a soul slogged to school through it all. So, in a way, we oldies still have the upper hand in the tall tales department.
I am now going to tell a true story about bad weather as I sit in my nice comfortable Southern California domicile.
On December 11, 1960 EFR Dion died sudddenly somewhere around 9 or 10 PM. I got the telephone call from my brother, Reef Lector. I was a seminarian in Attleboro, Massachusetts, some 75 or 80 miles away. It was snowing and the accumulation had reached at least 3 inches already. The headmaster (Director/Superior) of the seminary insisted on driving me home though the storm. We made it safely and soundly. He took a cup of coffee and turned around and went back to Attleboro. By the time he got halfway, the accumulation had reached 6 inches.
My brother was the "morning drive" announcer at a local radio station. It was a small station, so it went off the air at 9:00 PM and came back on at 5:00 AM. We decided that I would drive him to work because we were sure that there would be no parking in the city around his place of work. We arose at 4:00 AM to an accumulation of 8 inches and roads that were still not clean because it was still snowing. It was about 3 miles to the station. The last quarter mile all uphill. I had to drop him off at the bottom of the hill and he walked up to the station. He went on the air right on time.
After today, our stories will appear to be benign fairy tales compared to Sandy and the heroics of those who experienced her fury. So we tip our hats to all the brave souls who not only got through it, but who also got through it while helping others along the way. We also are grateful that this storm has a name. We older types need all the mnemonic help we can get. Remembering names is easier than remembering the exact date of the cold day when we had to walk a mile and a half through waist deep snow to get to school.
Yes, dear readers, we do remember Katrina. We bet that you do too.
We bet that we will not soon forget her younger sister, Sandy.
Maybe we should cancel Hallow'een in Southern California this year.
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