Thursday, September 18, 2003

It was a dark and stormy night… 

It is a dark and stormy night here on the East Coast. Hurricane Isabel’s winds are whipping the media into a furious frenzy and long lines are forming at the grocery stores as the media-made-frenzied folk stock up on bread and milk and duct tape.

Personally, I always go for the salt and vinegar potato chips – they can help me weather almost any storm.

I have always had a thing for big, bad storms. I embrace them. I love gigantic cracks of thunder that reverberate in my stomach and send the cat shivering under the bed covers. I am fascinated with lightening and always end up sitting by the window and watching it. But the wind is what steals my heart. Strong gusts of wind have a way of waking up your entire being. I love walking on the beach (or anywhere, really) when a storm is kicking up….letting the wind at my back push me along, or, at my front, try its best to impede my progress. Cheeks aflame; the entire world silent but for the rushing of the wind in my ears.

I think I love storms because of the way my mother handled storms when I was a child. When a storm was coming my mother would set out the candles and flashlights (the electricity was almost always certain to go out back then) and we would have a party. We would applaud the striking lighting and laugh with glee when the thunder roared. As soon as the electricity went out, my mother would sit at the piano and play to her heart’s (and my) content. I would dance in the living room…twirling and twirling…until we were both exhausted, or the storm was over.

In “To the Main-of-War Bird", Walt Whitman wrote:
Thou born to match the hale (thou art all wings,)
To cope with heaven and earth and sea and hurricane,

I think that’s me…all wings, ready to ride the hurricane winds…

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