Whew. What a storm. Being here in landlocked Kansas, all I can do is send prayers and maybe cash, look at the pictures in the paper and remember other hurricanes. We had big storms, gales, and I think a few hurricanes when I was a kid in Rhode Island but all I remember is wading in the overflowing storm drain puddle at the end of the street.
I was in Gloria in New York City in 1985. It wasn't too bad. I lived in International House, an independent dorm for graduate students in schools around the city. It was the only day in the entire year that almost everybody was home. We hung out, played scrabble, went up on the roof (!), and went for a walk down Broadway when the skies had cleared.
There was one in 1991 when I lived in Connecticut. My parents were visiting friends in Rhode Island and were on their way to my house. Mostly I remember Dad grumbling about being evacuated--as a Rhode Islander, he'd been through his own interesting times in hurricanes (care to comment, Dad?).
This one is something else. For a resident storyteller's view, check out Dianne de Las Casas' blog.
Notes on the storytelling life of Priscilla Howe, with miscellaneous notes on puppetry and the eternal search for the best restaurant pie on earth (fruit, not cream).
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3 comments:
As I recall, the reason you came home by train from the hospital after your stay when you were born, instead of by airplane, had to do with a hurricane. But you probably don't remember that.
Faith
When you came home from the hospital, the threat of Hurricane Esther grounded the planes from Rhode Island to Philadelphia. Your father was going to drive home by himself and I was to have brought little delicate Priscilla back by plane.
So ... plan B went into effect and we bundled you into the back seat in the portable crib gadget, and Dad drove us home, in the Fiat! And that little delicate Priscilla slept most of the way except for mealtimes, when she came into the front seat and nursed as if she'd never stopped. The bottle of formula sent home with her later went to Ramsey, our spoodle. And that little delicate Priscilla never looked back!Tough kid.
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