Still waiting for Hurricane Keely
Isaac is experiencing the dubious honor of sharing his name with a hurricane -- Hurricane Ike. Our family nickname for Isaac has been "Ike" for most of his life. His dad started calling him that when he was just a baby.
Isaac's reaction to the storm's name is mixed. He thinks it is kind of cool, but he hopes the storm doesn't do too much damage. He doesn't want Hurricane Ike to be a storm that lives in infamy; he'd rather see it fizzle out at sea.
I had a hurricane named for me this summer -- Hurricane Genevieve. I didn't even know about it until a few minutes ago. It must not have amounted to much. My husband Dennis had a hurricane several years ago. Our daughter Keely has not yet had a hurricane named either for her first name or her middle name, Elizabeth.
The first named hurricane that I remember is Hurricane Carla of 1961. It certainly wasn't the first hurricane within my lifetime, but it was memorable to me because I knew Carla Hixson, a neighbor girl who belonged to our 4-H club.
I was a child of Nebraska, hundreds of miles from the ocean. I heard about Hurricane Carla on the radio and read about it in the newspaper and Life magazine. I knew about bad blizzards, but killer storms of torrential rain and screaming winds were (and still are) outside my experience.
In September 2005, not long after the immensely destructive Hurricane Katrina, Hurricane Rita hit the Gulf Coast. Isaac and I spent the weekend at a medieval reenactment in southern Tennessee. On Friday night, it rained so hard that we stayed in a motel instead of setting up our tent. On Saturday night, we camped, and I went to bed fairly early. To drown out the conversation and other noise outside our tent, I turned on my little radio and put in my earbuds.
Throughout a night of intermittent sleep, I listened to a Mississippi radio station broadcasting reports of flooded roads, downed trees, and fallen power lines. The locations of emergency shelters were announced frequently, and safety precautions were urged.
It was rather surreal to hear a minute-by-minute hurricane report from a tent in a medieval(-ish) encampment. I felt like I was fiddling while Rome burned.