Okay, we're more than one-third of the way through the year, and I'm just now writing my second post of the year (at least for Life in the Left-Hand Lane). No excuses, just that life happens.
We're half-way through May, which, here in Florida, means only a few weeks until the start of hurricane season. Next week, NOAA is scheduled to announce this year's hurricane outlook. With any luck, it won't be too hectic.
The Tampa Bay area of Florida has had numerous close calls over the years, but very few direct hits. There was the 1921 Tampa Bay hurricane (otherwise known as the 1921 Tarpon Springs hurricane) that hit Tarpon Springs on October 25, 1921 as a Category 3 hurricane. According to Wikipedia, "It was the first major hurricane to make landfall in the Tampa Bay area since the hurricane of 1848 and the last to date."
There's also an article from The New York Times (September 27, 2022; "A Major Hurricane Has Not Hit Tampa for Over 100 Years") that states, "The 1921 storm, the most destructive to hit the Tampa area since 1848, was so powerful that it wrecked coastal structures for miles and smashed ships against docks after pulling them off their moorings. Most of the eight deaths attributed to the storm were drownings caused by extra water pushed toward shore, the Weather Service said in a 2013 video."
In 2004, my neighbors and I had four close calls with hurricanes over six weekends to deal with ("4 hurricanes in 6 weeks? It happened to one state in 2004."). Fortunately, the Tampa Bay area was spared - again.
Years ago, I had heard that there were forces protecting the Tampa Bay area from storms, left over from ancient Native American blessings. According to WFLA (the NBC affiliate in Tampa), "Local legend has it that mounds built by the Tocobaga tribe hundreds of years ago, protected the area from major storms for centuries. ...Some locals claim the tribe blessed the mounds for protection from hurricanes and other hazards, but we have yet to confirm the validity of their story." ("Are supernatural forces protecting Tampa Bay from hurricanes? Probably not.") It's as good an explanation as any; maybe not exactly scientific, but it does make one wonder every time we have a near miss that decides at the last minute to head elsewhere.
Several years ago, Hurricane Irma passed close to Tampa Bay. It wasn't a direct hit, fortunately, but it did get plenty of attention. Pinellas County's bus system, Pinellas Suncoast Transit Authority (PSTA) had buses halted for a couple of days, as well as their paratransit system for disabled people. Cabs were next to impossible to get hold of, since many people (including, I suppose, cab drivers) left the area for higher ground. It was a crazy time.
We had family staying with us at the time (my daughter and grand-). My daughter (M.H.) wanted to head out of the area, but as we listened to newscasts, we realized that that was not the best idea: the traffic on the I-275, as well as other roads, was horrendous; gas stations were running out of gas from so many motorists fleeing the area. I had visions of them stranded on the side of the road, out of gas, miles from the nearest exit (with gas stations). Not a good scenario.
Then there's the fact that hurricanes have a tendency to change course. To paraphrase Yogi Berra, when tracking a hurricane, It ain't over 'til it hits.
Since M.H. and G.H. were staying with us, and we have a huge oak tree in our front yard, with a semi-rotten branch directly over the driveway, we decided to find a parking garage for their car. Finding one in downtown St. Pete at the reasonable rate of $20 for the duration of the storm, M.H. and G.H. headed out to park their car. I'd managed to get one of the neighbors to drive me to the parking garage to then pick the two up. (This same neighbor just happened to have enough plywood to board up our windows, since he no longer needed them. Talk about help!)
My grand- (G.H.) was hoping to get at least something memorable from Irma. Having lived in Rhode Island for much of his life, G.H. had had snow days from school, but had never experienced a hurricane.
"Maybe we'll get to be without power for a while," he said. He also hoped for some minor damage; nothing life-threatening, mind you, but something exciting to report to his cousins and other grandma up north.
I was working at the local newspaper at the time, and, as the storm approached, discovered that most of us would be getting paid days off until it was deemed safe to come back in. (Paid days off, of course, are almost always a nice thing!) M.H. was also getting paid time off, as well as my son, M.
The night Irma approached, we had grown tired of the non-stop hurricane updates on T.V., and ended up putting a movie on the blu-ray player. There are times when movies can be a blessed distraction; this was one of those times.
The movie ended right around midnight. We popped the movie from the blu-ray player, turned that and the T.V., and, a minute later, lost power.
"Wow, cool!" G.H. said. "I wonder how long the power'll be off!"
"Who knows," was the response.
Slowly, everyone drifted off to their rooms, since obviously, there wasn't much we could do in the dark. I think we may have left the dining room light switch on, so that if the power came back on during the night, there's be no guessing. I do know that the front and back porch lights were left on. (More on that in a minute.)
The next morning, I managed to wake up before anyone else was awake. I did notice a sliver of daylight between one of the boards over my windows and the frame, so I figured it was okay to get up. I dashed in to take a shower, and discovered that we still had some warm water in the water heater. Yay! (I've never been a fan of cold showers.)
Then, to the kitchen. Of course, the coffee maker wasn't working; the power was still off.
But wait...still some hot water in the water heater. Using a clean mug, I managed to dump enough hot water through the coffee filter to end up with a pot of coffee, which M.H. found amazing when she wandered into the kitchen a few minutes later.
We spend the morning cleaning up yard debris from the large tree. The neighbors, of course, were all doing the same thing, all of us mentioning that, all things considered, was nothing to worry about. No one's house was damaged in our neighborhood, and only a couple of families had sections of fence knocked over.
After several hours, G.H. asked when the power would come back on, as he was so over not having power. Cell phones can't be charged up; neither can game systems. No T.V., no ice for sodas...Well, you get the idea.
At one point, M.H. wanted to pick up her car, so the neighbor drove us to the garage to pick it up. The neighbor and I took a little more time getting back to the house than M.H. did, as we were trying to see if any convenience store had anything to eat that didn't require power. Alas, it was not to be, and we headed home.
As we pulled into the driveway, I told the neighbor, "Geez, I guess I forgot to turn off the porch light this morning," then realized what I'd just said. The neighbor had power, too. In fact, the power came on just as we pulled into the driveway. All up and down the street, we could hear neighbors cheering the return of the lights.
For the record, G.H. did get to tell his other grandma about surviving the hurricane.
Okay, fast forward to 2022, and a close call with Hurricane Ian.
Several days before Ian, one of my sons, J., wandered out of his room and asked if the lights in the living room had flickered.
"Nope."
He guessed maybe the light in his room was about to go out.
But then, literally half the house went dark. No kitchen lights, no lights in the utility room, etc, but the rest of the house stayed lit.
I called Duke Energy, which figured out that the underground cable supplying 220 voltage to the house had shorted out.
Fortunately, they were able to get someone with a generator out (it was almost 11 at night), and get us up and running, with the promise of replacing the underground cable that week.
But before anyone could come out to replace the cable, Hurricane Ian came close to us. Thank goodness, it wasn't a direct hit. That said, about half the neighborhood ended up in the dark. Most people had their power back on in 24 hours or so.
Us? We lost power Wednesday, and didn't get it back on until Saturday night. The texts I kept getting from Duke Energy assured us we'd have power on "no later than midnight, Saturday."
Over the next couple of days, I kept calling, hoping that they'd be able to get us hooked back up sooner. I ended up having to throw out the food in our refrigerator and freezer. M.H. stopped by several times with fresh coffee. (Yay.)
Finally, at 9:30 P.M. Saturday, I began to wonder if we'd actually have power that evening. It was hot in the house (no power meant no A.C.). We were all a little grumpy.
Around 10:15, M. went to bed. I figured I'd stay up a little later.
As I got ready to shut the living room curtains, I saw A POWER TRUCK in front of our house, getting ready to get our power back on.
I explained to the workers about the underground cable. After checking the transformer out back, they acknowledge that it was, indeed, the cable that was a problem.
"The bad news is we don't have that kind of cable on our truck," one of the men told me. "The good news is that we do have it at the staging area, 30 minutes away."
"So, you will be able to get it tonight?" I asked.
Yes, half an hour to get to where the cable was, half an hour back, no problem. The cable was replaced (above ground, as it was dark out), and we had power by 11:43 P.M. Saturday night: seventeen minutes to spare before the midnight deadline.
Last year, Hurricane Idalia danced around, threatening the area, but leaving us alone.
I hope we don't have to deal with a hurricane that starts with an I. The darn things just don't play fair.
And no, I don't figure on moving any time soon. No matter where ya live, it's always something...
No comments:
Post a Comment