We are aware of the black humor – not irony, because it was totally predictable – that we moved from the Caribbean, where Isaac passed by as a relatively minor tropical storm, to New Orleans, where the same Isaac is now taking aim as it builds up steam across the gulf.
It's a strange feeling. The weather's lovely right now, the storm is
still about 36 hours off. People around here are kind of freaking out,
and you can't blame them, what with the recent history of Katrina. We
are watching warily and getting our stuff together.
But there's one big difference. On a small island, when a hurricane
comes there's no place to go. You HAVE to hunker down. There's no
alternative. I don't look forward to the idea of long lines of
evacuation traffic, but the point is, if we have to go, there's
someplace TO go. And we trust that authorities will tell us when it's
time, and we will listen. In hte meantime, just in case, we're pulling a
couple of suitcases together and gassing up "The Beast." At leaast it's
big enough that, push comes to shove, the kids could sleep in it.
Anyway, we're getting ready, but we're not panicking.