People wait on hurricanes in south central Texas. It’s fashionable. They bring rain and cooler weather. When they slide off in some other direction, we often sigh and think of what might have been. I’ve been guilty of this.
However, I know what I’m missing by not living in harms way. My wife and I weathered quite a few hurricanes on our boat in New Orleans. I’m happy to say that we weren’t there for Katrina, but the week before we were taking pictures of places that are now gone for good. I got to thinking about some of the storms we knew rather intimately: Carmen, Babe, Bob, Claudette, Danielle, Danny, Elena, Juan, maybe Bonnie (I think we were in Beaumont for this one and got flooded from our home).
Lydia was there for Carla; I was dodging tornadoes in northeastern Oklahoma. Storms have been a part of our lives. I’ll tell you some tall tales (but true ones) about sailing, including a hair raising tale of skippering the Artemis, a three masted barkentine one wild night off the Chandelier Islands during the worst squall line I’d ever seen outside a hurricane.