#Hurricane #Irene #Massachusetts #Seaboard
What are all these camera crews doing in my front yard?
9am, Sunday Aug. 28, 2001. Massachusetts coast.
I woke up this morning to howling wind and what appears to be fifteen foot waves. The ocean is kind of mixing with the air and the air with the ocean. Yesterday my son and I moved all the outdoor furniture into the barn and barricaded the front door since it faces East and usually takes the brunt of any storm.
We live a couple houses from the end of a split of land that sticks out into the ocean on the Massachusetts/Rhode Island border. Friends from Los Angeles arrived just as the storm kicked in last night. I figured it was time to toughen those Laker fans up so I reassured them that the storm would pass to west of us so would be no big deal. Not even a hurricane by the time it got to us.
Then I looked out to the front lawn. I wasn’t prepared to turn on the news and watch both the images on the television and the images out my window coincide perfectly. I guess my little stretch of the world became the perfect location for news reporters covered in rubber to suits to stand outside, with an angry ocean in the background, and try to talk over the roar of the storm while they blown sideways.
Are they crazy or am I? We keep getting email from friends and family excited that our house is on the news.
Time to wake up the LA crowd to show them what a real storm is all about. Earthquakes, land slides, and Ron Artest are one thing. Irene is quite another.