photo: NASA/NOAA via Wikimedia Commons (Hurricane David over Florida) Alicia and I had moved again, this time to a yellow two-bedroom, one-bath house closer to the school and church. A rental, owned by parents of girls attending the school, it had a Florida room, enclosed with jalousie windows all along the back wall. This gave us a view of the patio and the tropical plants that grew there. I loved that patio, despite the uncomfortable wrought iron bench that encircled a large deciduous tree. Its leaves fell in all seasons with a satisfying crunch when I swept. Spiky asparagus ferns grew wild around the edges of the patio, which was also surrounded by hibiscus that bloomed throughout the year—red, yellow, and pink flowers. We also had a clothesline on one side, with a yellow allamanda twining up one of the metal posts. Along with the pink bougainvillea, the front yard also boasted crotons serving the function of shrubs across the front of the house. Bromeliads nestled in the branches of a large tree; two smaller trees bracketed the walkway. Always we had something colorful in bloom. Our sometime roommate, Jennie, was coming to live with us again in September, arriving just before the predicted hurricane hit. Together the three of us put down the storm shutters—battening down the hatches, as we gleefully called it. Jennie, the self-acknowledged neurotic, had prepared, as we had not; she had a battery-powered radio and nonperishable edibles. I have never been afraid of storms, and this was my first hurricane, so I didn’t realize what was coming. We’d planned that Jennie would sleep on the sofa positioned against the Florida room’s wall of windows, but I knew she’d be terrified, and none of us would get any sleep that night. So I lied to her. “Jennie, why don’t you sleep in my room until the hurricane passes? You know, I’m not sleeping very well anyway. I’ll take the sofa.” “Oh, Judy, are you sure?” she asked, every nerve quivering like a hound that’s scented a rabbit. “Well, there’s no point in both of us being awake all night,” I said. So Jennie went to my bedroom and I did stay awake, but only for a little while, to watch the lightning over the trees. (Almost nothing affects my sleep.) The hurricane hit West Palm September 3, the week school was to begin. Although islands in the Caribbean and areas further north were harder hit, Florida suffered some $95 million in damages. The winds ripped the palm fronds from their trunks and the streets flooded. We lost power, as did much of the county. We had friends nearby who still had electricity, so we took our perishables to their home. Every day we stopped by to pick up food, which we cooked on a hibachi in the carport. Every day we heard the radio announcement of the number of homes still without power, and every day, we still were among that number.
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Baptist GirlI was a conservative Baptist girl who grew up to become a career Christian, working first in a Baptist school and then in a Baptist college. For about three decades, it was very good until it wasn’t, and I had to leave. But the Baptists formed me. This is my homage to the good times and good people of the world I left, finally, at forty-three, when I became an Episcopalian. These are my memories; others might disagree with my recollections. So be it. Archives
January 2024
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