Roy Leep of Channel 13 News was a god of central Florida in the 1970s and 1980s. Only Channel 13 had the technology at the time that could help Floridians prepare for the future. And the truth is that when you live close to the Lightning Capital of the World, and when you had hurricanes that could hit from east or west or south, you wanted Roy Leep working for you.
I grew up knowing that hurricanes could be destructive, and we were taught each year that the season began in June and ended in November, and everyone held their breath just a tiny bit during those months. We stocked up bottles of water, had extra batteries, and hurried to Publix for the essentials when hurricanes neared.
Lightning was a bit of a different story. It was more sudden. Storms could build from nothing in a matter of hours, it seemed, and what was a hot, bright, sunny day could turn in a matter of minutes to wind gusts, torrential rain, and lightning and thunder that would tear apart the sky. It was not out of the ordinary to have your house or trees hit by these sky bolts, and golfers knew the second a dark cloud approached to hit the clubhouse for a drink rather than risk a lightning strike.
I knew storms growing up.
Or at least I thought I did.
My mom was one of those who took hurricanes seriously, especially after Dad died. She stocked up gallons and gallons of water, had dozens of bags of sand just in case she needed sand bags, and had a weather radio that warned her of potential storms.
Just in case.
My mom taught me well.
Just like her, I have charger cables, extra batteries for the flashlights in most rooms of my house, a solar phone charger, and a gas generator in the shed ready for use with my large gas can. Even my three dogs provide me with some sort of “storm protection.”
As a Florida girl, I thought I knew storms.
Like my mom, I was a “just in case” girl.
I always kept the solution to a worst-case scenario handy in the back pocket of my jeans.
My plans had backup plans that had backup plans.
Just in case.
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Little did I truly realize that Jim Cantore doesn’t always show up days in advance of some of life’s biggest storms.
We don’t get warnings to stock up at Publix,
To prepare for what might happen.
I have learned this unfortunately through numerous experiences.
Each time, within a moment's notice, the floor gave way beneath my feet,
The roof was grabbed from its walls,
The water flooded in,
And life was forever changed.
I have handled these storms in a variety of ways, from trying to ignore them and live in denial OR doubting myself OR making future plans to protect myself from ever being hurt again. And, of course, I have handled these storms with lots of tears.
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It is so easy for a short while at least to ignore the storms–
To change the channel from Jim Cantore’s reports on the coast and instead pour on the sunscreen for an afternoon swim,
To leave the outdoor furniture just where it is,
To believe that you are too good of a person to have something like this happen to you,
And to just shout YOLO at the top of your lungs and keep on living like you are living.
However, the storms WILL come.
You can block your ears and live in the dreams that good people are safe.
But the winds will hit, and the walls will shake, and you will have to face the consequences.
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It is so easy to drown yourself in self-recrimination when the storm hits.
To wonder “What if” and “Why me” and “Did I do something to deserve this?”
If only you had put masking tape on the windows, the glass wouldn’t have broken,
If only you had lived in a better neighborhood, or lived a better life, your shingles would not have blown off.
However, the truth is the storms don’t always make sense.
The path is not always straight.
The tornadoes destroy one home while not even moving the stuffed animal in the yard of the house next door.
The “if only’s” don’t change the reality. They only haunt us with imagined alternate realities that do not exist. They fill us with hollow dreams of the “what might have been’s”
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It is so easy, too, to criticize your reactions, wondering why you don’t cry more, why you feel so lost when the house has a missing roof.
You say, “Well, the people across town have it so much worse. At least I have most of my house. At least I still have ‘my people’ safe.
How selfish I am to cry when others are suffering more.”
However, the truth is you are still missing a roof.
You have still been the survivor of a storm.
The loss is still real for you.
There is no right way to grieve, to survive loss, to move forward.
You must do what you can do—and no more and no less.
Regardless of what the neighbors say.
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It is so easy to armor yourself, thinking that you will never be surprised by a storm again,
To create a permanent Jim Cantore alarm system that protects you from the rains and winds and lightning.
It is so easy to build up the stockpiles of necessities that will protect you from the unexpected, so you will never be caught off guard again.
However, the truth is that no matter how much we try to prepare and even over-prepare, we will be caught off guard.
There will be a phone call we don’t want to receive.
There will be a doctor’s visit with news we don’t want to hear.
The people in our lives will disappoint and betray and fail to show up and, yes, even die.
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It is so easy to tense your body to the extent that nothing can penetrate that shell,
To close off the heart so the security system cannot allow for a person to enter and allow for another storm,
To turn the weather radio up so loud that you cannot hear the birds singing outside,
To fear the loss of electricity so you hole up in a powerless shelter,
To close off the glass windows of life with storm shutters so you are in an everlasting darkness,
With the walls of cement and the door protecting you from what might be out there.
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Each of these is so easy to do.
I have tried all of them.
From freeze to flight to fight.
None work well.
Regardless of my technique,
The storms have still hit, and the loss is still real.
The clean-up afterward is still hard.
The remnants of memories can still be stained from the storm waters.
Life is forever changed.
This “just in case” girl has learned and continues to learn that
No amount of ignoring can keep storms from happening,
No self-recrimination can change the impact,
No shelter and no closed-off heart can keep the storms from hitting.
All that is lost by building shelters and by hanging storm shutters,
All that is lost in the “what if’s” and “you shouldn’ts”
All that is lost in the meantime are opportunities for joy,
All that is lost are those moments that make being alive so worth it:
For sunshine warming our skin,
For cool water running over our fingers,
For the sound of a child’s laugh,
For the smell of rain in the air after a storm,
For the hug of a dear friend,
For the sight of a beautiful cardinal couple eating from the bird feeder,
For the “I love you’s” and “I’m here for you’s”
While I do plan to have some extra batteries lying around,
And my dogs provide a security system of sorts,
And a gas can for my generator remains full,
I also plan to keep the storm shutters off,
To allow the sunshine to enter,
to allow my heart to feel,
And when the storm passes, I plan to turn off the Weather Channel’s Jim Cantore
And fully live.
