Category: Random

The first week of August was a doozy in North Carolina.

It started with a hurricane on our coast and ended with an earthquake near the Blue Ridge Mountains. Our typical east coast storm was juxtaposed against the earthy rocking and rolling more typical on the west coast.

It made me wonder: Is it more frightening and worrisome facing nature’s power when you know what’s coming or when you don’t?

Here in SE NC, punishing hurricanes are an annual summer-fall tradition. Although each storm is different, we understood what Isaias might deliver.

We knew we needed to move up as much stuff as possible and tie down everything else. Then we ourselves hunkered down inside, while the wind and rain and surf acted up outside.

On the other hand, Sparta NC residents had probably never literally experienced the earth moving under their feet. The ground had been jittery for a couple of weeks but a serious earthquake? That was new. And they hadn’t had the days of warning the coast had had to prepare.

I have a little trailer about a mile off the Atlantic, but I wasn’t worried because it’s never had much weather damage. Others aren’t so fortunate.

My beau Tom lives on the mainland, directly on the Intracoastal Waterway. Even normal high tides occasionally creep up to his patio. Only a narrow barrier island stands between him and the smashing ocean waves.

In October 2016, Hurricane Matthew left a mess along the eastern Carolinas. It brought down some of Tom’s oaks. It temporarily deposited 20″ of salt water and rain in his basement, insulation, outdoor equipment, and boxes filled with thousands of the little things we all store away for tomorrow. It was demoralizing.

I had seen the devastation Matthew left at Tom’s and at our friends’ up and down our shores. Cleaning up was emotionally exhausting for them, some of whom had already experienced Hazel in 1954, Hugo in ’89, Fran in ’96, and others.

Then last week, little Isaias flew in for a brief visit and deposited twenty-nine inches of sea water in Tom’s basement. Even more inches at others. It also deposited one neighbor’s pier directly on top of Tom’s pier, and parts of Tom’s pier on the far side of his other neighbor’s trees.

I was worried for Tom, thinking how I would’ve felt. How was he going to handle this – again – knowing the months of physical, financial, and administrative hassles ahead?

By early Tuesday morning, Aug. 4, the storm had already moved NW, and the day was clear and sunny. Household by household, Tom’s neighborhood dragged itself outside. They trudged through the mud and wetness for awhile, assessing the worst of the damage. Shoulders sagged in anticipation of so much to do.

Then they gathered – as closely as they dared because the bad breath of covid-19 hadn’t blown north with the hurricane. They gathered, not to moan, but to problem solve. To determine who had which tools and other resources. To evaluate what had worked during Matthew and what hadn’t. To prioritize whose issues needed immediate resolution versus whose could wait.

They had been through this before. As disheartening and surprising as Isaias was, it was a known. They pulled out and revitalized previous solutions, phone numbers, plans written or remembered. They got to work.

So my guess is that last week’s 5.1 earthquake in western NC was scarier, more depressing than eastern NC’s destructive Cat 1 hurricane. “What’s happening to my house?” our mountain friends must’ve asked. What do we do? How do I protect my family? Who can help us and how much will it cost?

It’s not that western Carolinians are less capable or resilient, but that their trouble was mostly new, unexpected. Those few who’d lived in earthquake-prone California must’ve helped develop plans that would be available again, if there were a future quake.

Experience. Plans. Foresight. Skills. It seems to me that those help us face the overwhelming known with more peace than we face the less treacherous unknown.

Oh, engineers and handy women&men are also important. Be nice to your neighbors who are capable of doing more than writing a blog.

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I do lots of thinking when I’m mowing the lawn. Last week I wore a short, sleeveless dress as I marched behind the mower. And I laughed at myself, thinking how ridiculous I must look working outside in a skirt.

Until recently, I would NEVER have worn a dress to work in the yard. Only old women might do that. Then I laughed again, realizing that I AM an old woman or, at least, an older woman.

And I realized that being in my 60s is freeing.

Expectations are low for people with gray or white hair, especially women. I get lauded for doing almost anything independent or productive. You mowed your lawn?!! Amazing. You walked 2 miles? Wow! You took an out-of-state trip by yourself? How brave! You gave a speech? What a memory! (Unfortunately, I rarely get praised for my cooking.)

No one expects me to accomplish great things anymore. There’s little or no pressure to perform – literally. In choir, it’s okay if my voice cracks or I run out of breath. Big, important jobs? Everyone assumes I’m no longer working. Proper grammar and educated opinions? Not necessary; most people are impressed if I’m just lucid.

Another thing I like about being older is that I’m free to wear whatever I wish because who cares if we look sexy? I no longer wear fitted business suits or high heels. Or pants and short skirts that are uncomfortable to sit in. Or bikinis in which I’d have to suck in my stomach. I wear flat shoes and sandals with good arch support and roomy toes, loose fitting blouses, swimming skirts to cover my broadening butt. No one cares. Once we’re “older,” who looks except to laugh or to say, “Isn’t she cute?”

Another good thing about being older is no more wolf whistles and the like. Years ago I stopped turning to look when a car beeped as I walked down the road. We older women are mostly invisible to the rest of the world, which can be annoying when people don’t pay attention to all our wise words. But that’s for another blog.

For the similar reasons, we can eat pretty much what we want to as long as we stay healthy and can fit into our wardrobes.

And the best, no more periods. No explanation necessary.

So, yes, I like being a kind-of-crazy woman in her 60s.