“What They Don’t Tell You about Hurricanes.” By Phillip Gerard, is a deeply touching, firsthand account of what it’s like to live through the harrowing events of a catastrophic storm. Folks who do not have repeated experience with storms of great magnitude, might think it’s as simple as boarding up windows, evacuating, waiting it out, coming back, and cleaning up debris, with a neighborhood potluck dinner at the end. Gerard shares through this narrative essay, what it’s really like by recounting the emotional and physical destruction felt by him, his wife, and neighbors in September of 1996, when hurricane Fran, pummeled his region.
Gerard’s reflection masterfully holds the reader’s attention through vivid imagery and storytelling, which feels more like a conversation then a regurgitation of facts. He begins his story sharing how much the experts don’t know about the which way the will go. Will it hit his town, or veer into a different direction? “A degree of latitude equals sixty miles, north or south.” he shares he and his wife’s impossible hope that if they were hit, that it be fast and done. “But it doesn’t happen that way.” Gerard says. “Hurricanes are big and slow.”
Gerard pulls the reader into his experience by creating strong relatable images. “Fran bangs into some islands from the vacation brochures and it’s heading toward the U.S. mainland.” The scenic beaches featured in hotel lobbies become the backdrop for the howling winds, flying debris, floods, and destruction, placing the reader in the center of the storm.
Also shared is the level of fear he, his wife, and neighbors feel about the path of the storm. He confesses, they hope the storms tracks over Charleston, and away from them. “We wish it on them. We feel bad about it, but we wish it on them anyway.” This bold and admirable admission, forces self-reflection. Who hasn’t thought “better them than me” like when a car accident happens between two cars up ahead, and the first thought is, “One more second later, and that could have been me.” Gerrard shows the magnitude of their worry, by sharing these deeper confessions.
The conversation continues to show just how much of life is out of our control and left by chance. “A massive oak tree that has weathered three hundred years of storms is ripped apart by the wind, literally twisted out at the earth by the roots. The next lot over, a pair of forgotten work gloves left to dry on the spikes of a picket fence are still there in the morning and so is the fence. Dry.”
When chaos of any kind like family drama, deaths, births, or sicknesses, ensue, it is natural to seek out order. Gerard shares his bold dart into the raging storm to check on the drains, which he admits for a moment gives him the sense he had some control over an uncontrollable “It’s stupid.” He admits, when recounting his venture outside to clear storm drains. “Especially in the pitch blackness, but it feels like something you have to do. The world is way out of control, but you’re still responsible.”
Gerard’s uses all the senses to connect the reader through sight, sound, and touch. “The great trees cracking and tumbling to the ground in the roaring darkness really do sound like an artillery barrage.” And just how much of life is chance, describing unharmed gloves sitting on a fence next to a destroyed house.
After journeying through the storm, Gerard shocks with the real stuff that people don’t know about hurricanes. The time before and after the storm. This is the most awful and oppressive part of the story, leaving the reader to think, “How did I not know this all happens before and after big hurricanes?” Gerard punches with its harsh brutality of the stagnant heat. “The hundred degrees of swampy humidity, the day after, before the torrential rains resume…. everything you touch is greasy. You put on a fresh shirt and sweat it through before you can fasten the buttons.” The list of critters is shocking; “Screaming” Bees, hornets, wasps that all sting, Frogs, Rat snakes, Water moccasins, Copperheads, and “millions” of crickets. The before and after is the worst of it, but ironically, the news media captures none of this part. They get the before and during, but not after. Not where the real heartache and suffering is. The cameras can’t film someone’s heart breaking from a storm.
留言