Where Was the Celebration?

They came in a steady stream...area residents curious to see how Sandy had impacted the Rehoboth Beach boardwalk.

The lines started two blocks to the west. The equivalent return flow should have been indication there was really nothing to see - no reason to linger - but those in line continued on anyway.

What should have been a spontaneous celebration that no severe damage had been done was anything but. Instead, there was a somber atmosphere - like mourners making their way from a cemetery at the conclusion of graveside services.

Some were no doubt disappointed that enforced evacuation had prevented them from witnessing the peak of the storm. To a degree I can understand that - a chance to see mother nature at her angriest can be awe inspiring.

But I suspect most were disappointed there was no mass destruction to witness, and that I will never understand. What possible satisfaction is to be found in observing the loss of homes and livelihoods? Why do so many feel shortchanged when robbed of the opportunity to witness a nightmare they themselves would never wish to endure?

Vacancy

It is now a place of dark dwellings and empty roadways. Gone are the people who gave the town life.The vacancy is all the more noticeable for the lack of tchotchkes that naturally come with habitation. It is as though some insatiable giant traversed the streets during the night gobbling up lawn ornaments, decorative flags, flowerpots, and mailboxes.

Columns of rain now race through the streets, towering gray wraiths driven by banshee winds. Curling streamers of leaves race ahead of the advancing rain, fleeing the destruction promised by the banshee howls that echo between abandoned  homes.

Dry gullies have become racing streams while streams have grown to lakes - lakes whipped into white-capped froth by the same frenzied wind that has turned nurturing rain into an advancing army.

I watch all of this from behind discreetly parted blinds, loath to let the outside forces know of my presence - fearful that such discovery will lead to a focused assault on my home.

Hunkerin' Down

Hurricane Sandy is zeroing in on our section of the world and I'm just a little distraught... cause I'm not fully up to speed on hunkerin' down.

I'm worried that I might not hunker correctly. With all the reporters talking about hunkerin' I'm sure there must be a preferred hunkerin' stance. 

When the winds really start whipping I expect I'll probably go into a three-quarter squat and wrap my arms around my head so that my biceps press against my ears.

But what if that's not right? What if I position myself improperly and get arried away by gale force winds?

I mean, maybe the preferred hunkerin' position is a wide-legged stance with on a slight bend to the knee and finger's laced across the top of the head with elbows free and available for regaining balance?

Or maybe I'm supposed to assume a full squat, press my chin to my chest, and cross my arms over the back of my neck. - No, I'm pretty sure that one's not hunkerin' mode - that sounds like the position to assume just before kissing a certain part of your anatomy good-bye.