After Irene

Day One
This is Sunday, the day after Irene came though town. I am incommunicado, having neither electricity nor cell phone service. Many tree limbs are down, as are more than a few trees. A neighbor’s privacy fence lies on the ground. A two story house a few doors away has half its metal roof peeled back, and everything in the upper floor is wet, drenched by torrential rain. An electrical transformer on a utility pole a hundred feet from my house is damaged and its oil leaks out in a steady drizzle. Traffic lights are dark and police direct traffic at major intersections. Trucks carting tree limbs are a frequent sight, as are front-end loaders picking up loads of debris.

I have a tiny battery-powered FM radio. I plug computer speakers into its headphone jack and get a very decent sound out of it. I hunt for news about the hurricane but mostly I hear “All the hits all the time.” After 28 hours, electric power is restored. I’m standing in the street talking with three neighbors when word comes that we have electricity, and everyone heads home to verify the good news. Shortly after that I am able to use my cell phone in roaming mode.

Day Two
Boring. My TV and Internet, both of which arrive via Comcast cable, are still out. I can write, but I’ll have to wait before I can publish it to my blog.

Day Three
I had a weird dream early this morning, in which I was wandering about in a labyrinth of a building. I kept passing certain features over and over, though I had no idea where I was or where I was going. I think I was trying to find an exit. There were other people in the building which I encountered as I traveled the labyrinth. It was almost like being in a video game world, where you go through doors and find rooms or hallways or stairs to other floors – sometimes the stairs were inverted, upside down, and so could not be used. But the weird thing is I knew I was dreaming. I even commented to one of my dream companions, “I hate dreams like this.” I tried my best to make myself wake up, to no avail. I thought of real-world things like the moon; I clenched my fists and struggled to awaken. But I only dreamed on.

Three days after Irene, it seems not much has changed from immediately after. Many homes and businesses have no electricity and many traffic lights are dark. Grocery store freezers are empty, their refrigerated shelves gleaming bare.

The sun is close to setting, and I decide to walk through the ‘hood. First I encounter a little blond girl about 4 years old, dressed in pink and riding a battery-powered motorized tricycle. She is accompanied by a large black man who looks like a celebrity bodyguard. The little girl rides her tricycle into an empty church parking lot. She stops and looks back at the man. “Go on. Ride around,” he tells her as he motions her forward. She rides off across the parking lot. The man flashes me a smile and waves.

On another street I encounter a couple standing on the sidewalk, looking at a cherry tree growing between the sidewalk and the street. The woman tells me she planted it 4 years earlier. It is leaning toward the street, blown over by the winds of Irene. I talk with them for a while. They are trying to decide if the tree can be saved. Doubtful. Mosquitos are biting me so I wish them good luck and walk on.

The setting sun lights up the side of Violet Bank. The Cucumber tree still stands and I don’t see any damage. It has been through many hurricanes since it was planted in the eighteenth century. I had wondered if Irene caused it damage. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had lost limbs or even toppled over. But there it was: a survivor of yet another hurricane.

Next to the Cucumber tree, I meet a woman and her pit bull mix named Vegas. She is from this area but lived in Las Vegas for a few years. Vegas is a rescue dog and very suspicious of me. Initially, he growls a lot, but I squat near him and hold out my fist so he can sniff me. (Never stick out your fingers to a dog – too easy to bite.) Vegas warms up and allows me to pet him, except for the top of his head. If I move my hand over his head, he dodges it.

As I return home, three girls run past my house. Teeny-boppers, tweeners, or whatever they’re called now, they look to be around 12 to 14 years old. One girl wears a neon-green shoe on her right foot and an orange shoe on her left foot. Another girl wears a blue shoe on her right foot and a bright pink shoe on her left foot. (Sometimes my over-fifty neighbor walks around with different color flip-flops. Though I suspect her reason for mixing colors is not fashion related.)

The day is coming to a close. The outside air is cooling so I turn off the A/C and open windows. Through my windows, I hear the hum of distant home generators. I wonder if I’ll be able to publish this post tomorrow.

Day Four
5:28 PM: Comcast got my TV and Internet working. I’m online, therefore I exist.