When I moved to Denver in 1992, I watched as a funnel cloud sat spinning directly over my house (or so it seemed to me), willing it to spin the other direction and go away. It did, but I went through about 15 minutes of fear. But that was nothing like the terror I go through every spring and autumn now that I live in “Tornado Alley.”
Fortunately, Stillwater sits in an area that causes storms to split in two about 15 miles west of town. Not that there haven’t been tornado touchdowns here. There have been, but not in the past decade or so. I’ve never lived on the south or southeast coasts, so I somehow overlook my hurricane experiences as results of real hurricanes. Of course, neither of them have been direct hits.
While visiting with my friends Paul and Kevin in Atlanta in 1994, the arms of a hurricane swept through, causing a deluge of rain and high-speed winds that caused the power lines outside to spark and sizzle, falling to the ground. That was my first experience. My next was the second year we were here in Stillwater. I was up late one night (how unusual), when all of a sudden some especially fierce winds came up, tossing our lawn furniture across the street and knocking over my potted plants on the front porch. Thunder and lightening roared and flashed and I switched on the Weather Channel to learn that we were being buffeted by the outer arms of a hurricane in the Gulf. The entire household slept through it. When you live in Oklahoma you get used to wind. Now, Rita is coming and I’m glad I didn’t move to Houston a few years ago like I wanted to do.
The worst we’ll get here in Stillwater is high winds (the prediction is 50-70 mph), so on Saturday I’m bringing all of the hanging patio plants indoors. There is the threat of tornadoes throughout the state; hopefully it will remain a threat and not become a reality. My heart goes out to all of those who are leaving their homes behind until this passes. Nettl’s boss, and her daughter, are in Houston and a girl at the Cat Clinic has family there. Too, Nettl’s aunt lives in Port Arthur, Texas. Let’s keep everyone in our thoughts this weekend.
On another note: Today I took Joel to the oral surgeon’s office to have some work done. He was put completely under, so I’ve been keeping my eye on him all day and evening. I remember what it was like when I had my wisdom teeth removed. I was given Tylenol-Codeine and I composed one of my finest pieces, a Fantasia in C-minor, while under the influence. I don’t remember the act of composing it, but I have the score—in my own hand—so I must have composed it.
Saturday is my birthday, so I decided I’ll make brunch for the family: a wonderful dish we discovered in Vienna, Kaiserschmarrn, along with sausages and bacon. Later, Nettl and I are going out to dinner, then we’re coming home with some wine, putting the old “Do Not Disturb” sign on the bedroom door, and hiding out for the night. For one whole evening and night we will not be shrinks, referees, chauffeurs, arbitrators, nurses, cooks, maids, fixers, computer techs, tutors, bankers, telephone operators or accountants. All I want for my birthday this year is some time with my wife without interruption, without our bedroom door being a revolving door. For my birthday, I don’t want to share my wife with anyone! Bratty? Perhaps. So bite me.
