Hurricane Season

Time is marked by seasons, in different places this means different things. Crab season, shrimp season, lobster season, crawfish season, Carnival season, hunting season. The granddaddy of them all is Hurricane season.

It's mid August, there hasn't been a named hurricane yet. Last time I remember that happening was back when Andrew hit. Ask anyone from the Redneck Riviera to the Florida Keys what they were doing when Andrew hit, sure as the day is long, they will tell you exactly what they were doing. It's also a bonding ritual of sorts, the collective memory of a region.

Storms are the markers on time lines in Hurricane Alley. Personal stories and antidotes are dotted with the big ones, the near misses, the ones that got away. Big fish tales are commonplace but pull up a bar stool, discuss past storms and you've got a friend who will be coming to your next barbecue.

We moved up north two years ago after the season started to affect my daughter's mental health. I could not bear the wide eyed terror that would fill her eyes every time it started to rain. Katrina not only took our belongings, it took our community and sense of safety.

I follow the storms like people up here follow baseball. Statistics, past performance, wishful thinking and a "I know better than you" bravado are needed for predicting both. Just like baseball it's a game of winners and losers, somebodies gonna get hit and you hope to hell it ain't you.