Don’t know why
There’s no sun up in the sky
Stormy Weather
Welcome to Hurricane Season! It sounds like the national hurricane center (which is, ironically, located here in Colorado) has predicted a severe storm season. There will be somewhere between ten and fifteen named storms with three to five of those being major hurricanes.
I say this not because I am gloating that I sit here, safely out of the path of trouble (with the makers of the dire predictions) in Colorado. I make the observation because having grown up in Florida; the first of June is always a date that I remember. It is the day that every newbie to the gold coast spends denuding the Home Depot of Masking Tape and Plywood. I know that storms are serious and horrible things, but I still have fond of storms.
One of my earliest memories is of Dad getting boards up on the house in 1966 when Hurricane Inez hit the Miami area. I remember staying up and listening to the storm buffet the house outside as we stayed in tune to the outside world over the big radio in the living room and then, after the power went out, by the little battery powered radio.
For those of you who have never lived somewhere where there are BIG storms, you’ve never gotten the opportunity to see Storm Light. Before the rain starts to fall, the whole sky gets an eerie green glow. The light becomes a sickly yellow-green and the air takes on an electric waiting tense calm. There is quite literally nothing like it.
So there we were, the seven of us, seven Bergquists and a daschund sitting around the little transistor listening to WGBS and tracking the storm on the map Daddy had spread on the coffee table. Some time much later than I had ever been up I remember all of us getting together and going out to look at the stars though the crystal clear eye of the storm. We then retreated back inside to listen to the storm hit us from the other direction as it moved on out to sea. The next morning we awoke to find that the storm had passed. The skies were clear and the entire afternoon, evening, night before seemed like some bad dream.
The water in the front of the house was standing four feet deep in the street; we piled into “Big Bertha” the ten-person war canoe that Dad usually kept hanging from the eaves but which had been moved into the garage for the duration of the storm. We paddled around a couple blocks and checked out the fallen branches. There have been many storms that I have been through since, but Inez holds a special place in my memory as the first and perhaps the worst.
Oh well, I hope that the weather is fine where you are today and to my friends and family back in Hurricane Alley, I hope that the season is better to you than last year! Let’s keep our collective head in the sand and hope that the current administration is correct and that there is nothing to this “Global Warming” bullshit. Because if they are correct, this season will pass without the excitement of the last one!
I hope you have a great day wherever you are!
Don Bergquist – 01, June, 2005 – Lakewood, Colorado
I say this not because I am gloating that I sit here, safely out of the path of trouble (with the makers of the dire predictions) in Colorado. I make the observation because having grown up in Florida; the first of June is always a date that I remember. It is the day that every newbie to the gold coast spends denuding the Home Depot of Masking Tape and Plywood. I know that storms are serious and horrible things, but I still have fond of storms.
One of my earliest memories is of Dad getting boards up on the house in 1966 when Hurricane Inez hit the Miami area. I remember staying up and listening to the storm buffet the house outside as we stayed in tune to the outside world over the big radio in the living room and then, after the power went out, by the little battery powered radio.
For those of you who have never lived somewhere where there are BIG storms, you’ve never gotten the opportunity to see Storm Light. Before the rain starts to fall, the whole sky gets an eerie green glow. The light becomes a sickly yellow-green and the air takes on an electric waiting tense calm. There is quite literally nothing like it.
So there we were, the seven of us, seven Bergquists and a daschund sitting around the little transistor listening to WGBS and tracking the storm on the map Daddy had spread on the coffee table. Some time much later than I had ever been up I remember all of us getting together and going out to look at the stars though the crystal clear eye of the storm. We then retreated back inside to listen to the storm hit us from the other direction as it moved on out to sea. The next morning we awoke to find that the storm had passed. The skies were clear and the entire afternoon, evening, night before seemed like some bad dream.
The water in the front of the house was standing four feet deep in the street; we piled into “Big Bertha” the ten-person war canoe that Dad usually kept hanging from the eaves but which had been moved into the garage for the duration of the storm. We paddled around a couple blocks and checked out the fallen branches. There have been many storms that I have been through since, but Inez holds a special place in my memory as the first and perhaps the worst.
Oh well, I hope that the weather is fine where you are today and to my friends and family back in Hurricane Alley, I hope that the season is better to you than last year! Let’s keep our collective head in the sand and hope that the current administration is correct and that there is nothing to this “Global Warming” bullshit. Because if they are correct, this season will pass without the excitement of the last one!
I hope you have a great day wherever you are!
Don Bergquist – 01, June, 2005 – Lakewood, Colorado
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