Stormy

I’m snowed in and reflecting on all the storms that have crossed my radar. What better time to recall the Classics IV, and that song that Cobb and Buie gave us in ’68 called “Stormy.”

Yesterday's love was like
A warm summer breeze
But like the weather, you change.

First tornado: Louisville, Kentucky, April 3, 1974
The change in barometric pressure triggered a migraine and my mom picked me up early from St. Athanasius Elementary School. Our home bordered the southern entrance to the General Electric plant, land that had previously been used to grow apples and corn. The higher elevation in our suburb allowed a view of downtown Louisville from my second floor bedroom window. The skyline twinkled at night, and the twinkling could be enhanced by earphones full of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. But on this particular day, we remained on the first floor and stood at our sliding glass patio door and watched as the tornado swept across the horizon. I will never forget the absence of sound prior to the tornado or the civil defense sirens that I heard not that day, but for years afterward when the county met the need created by the tornado and tested the sirens with regularity.

Oh Stormy, oh Stormy
Bring back that sunny day

First snowstorm with power outage: Louisville, Kentucky, January, 1994

The guest bedroom in my Rock Creek Gardens home had a view of pine trees in Cherokee Park. When my surgeon husband was on call, I often slept in this room. On this particular night I did not hear my husband climbing into bed in the wee hours, but I woke early the next morning to the sound of icy precipitation outside the window. The cold motivated me to check the thermostat, and flipping the switch in the hall did not illuminate a path.

As a busy mom and resident, I often had an empty refrigerator, and unfortunately, all I had left in the house to eat the morning of the power outage was a sour cream coffee cake that I baked late on the eve of the storm.

My toddler woke about an hour after I did and complained of cold hands. I called my friends the Higdons, and Steve picked up the three of us in his SUV and drove us to their home in the Highlands.

All of a sudden there is
Rain falling down

First tropical storm: Allison, Houston, Texas, June 2001

I wore something very edgy to the hospital the morning before Allison, and in retrospect, what was already in the air that morning when I paired a navy and white geometric print skirt with a silk blouse in a contrasting print?

Fridays at work usually dragged into the evening hours, and at 7:30 my husband picked me up from Hermann Hospital. En route to Rice Village for dinner, in pouring rain, we agreed that fatigue had surpassed hunger. At home we fell into bed and slept well thanks to the sounds of rain and the snoozing toddler that lay between us.

The following morning my scientist husband headed to Baylor and noticed some things just weren’t right. By the time he filled the lab freezers with liquid nitrogen, the entrance to the medical center was barricaded.

Back home we didn’t have any food in the house, and we drove over I-59 via the Mandell Street bridge to get to the Westheimer Randall’s. Cars abandoned by motorists had floated up the swollen interstate to within ten feet of the overpass. In the grocery, we waited to check out for hours. I struck up a conversation with the woman in front of me—the chairman of pediatrics from the med school in San Antonio who was visiting her Houston grandchildren.

Amazingly, we still had power, despite the flood, and we watched on national news as the piano in the lobby of my hospital floated up two floors. The hospital struggled to move patients before closing. I stayed home on paid leave for over a month.

Now things are dreary, baby, and it's
Windy and cold

Second snowstorm with power outage, Carrboro, North Carolina, December, 2002

My Texan son had never seen snow, and I billed the white stuff as one of the fun features of North Carolina in the buildup that led to our move. And sure enough, two weeks after we unpacked in North Carolina, snow fell one afternoon. I photographed the children on the deck. Because Sam did not yet have the proper outerwear, he was wearing hand-me-downs from his sister. That night the ice storm downed trees all over the Triangle, taking the power lines with them.

The previous homeowners had left enough firewood for the season, and we heated cans of food at the fireplace. A few days later the power returned. What does my son think we’ve gotten him into in North Carolina, I wondered.

And I stand alone in the rain,
Calling your name.

First hurricane (Isabel), September, 2003, Carrboro, North Carolina

School had been cancelled so I had to take the children with me to a radiology appointment on UNC’s campus. I left the Gravely Building with good news only to find that a horrific storm awaited us in the parking lot. It poured the rest of the day.

My biggest concern was the butterfly bush. I stood at the front door and watched as the rain pelted it. After only one season I had become so fond of its purple blooms and its yellow and orange winged visitors. Against the odds, the bush survived over the years and has actually grown stronger.

You were the sunshine, baby,
Whenever you smiled,
But I call you Stormy today.

Third snowstorm, Carrboro, North Carolina, January 2010
This time the weatherman gave me time to get ready for a power outage. I planned, shopped, stocked, filled, watered, salted, treated, vacuumed, laundered, ironed, flat-ironed, baked, boiled, mailed, posted, paid up, checked, and e’ed.

Now I’m a shut-in, enjoying electricity and breaking in a new pair of Sorels in eight inches of snow for the upcoming trip to the Canadian Rockies. My son watched the Miss America pageant for the first time, and I had an acoustic memory--my mother used to sing the pageant song at our house.

Oh Stormy, Oh Stormy, Bring back that sunny day

Seems like it's been stormy for years now.