Yesterday, as Hurricane Isaac approached land, the menfolk were in various stages of concern: my brother-in-law sure everything would be fine, my father-in-law calling every so often worrying Mom to no end. She can’t believe how disturbed he is since they weathered a category one hurricane together several years ago no more than a mile down the road at the Gulf State Park. She says he is upset because he is not here. I think about that illusory sense of control we feel when in the midst of situations rather than outside them. The small flex of our decision muscles against the powers that be.
We control so little.
This morning we woke to the news that Isaac moved further west and now hovers over New Orleans testing their preparedness by pounding the city with rain and bursts of construction ripping wind. One of the newscasters from the Weather Channel went AWOL last night. The broadcast cut live to his feed at a beach where we took photos and romped at the edges of the water earlier. The reporter was gone. No further news today, so we assume he exercised his judgement, probably after he could no longer stand or maybe push open his door against the forces outside, sought shelter.
We are seeking new shelter. Roads blockaded by police keep us from our condo, though residents are now allowed to return home. So we plan a move from Holiday Inn Express Foley to Holiday Inn Express Orange Beach. Guess I now know why property is so much more expensive that direction. Higher ground.
Having seen the radar themselves, the menfolk place no worried calls today. Later this afternoon, however, I will face my greatest and most-constant beach fear.