Skip to main content

Goodnight, Irene

    Hey, everyone. Many years ago I was working at a weather station and we had a very interesting visitor. He was a member of the Hurricane Hunters and he was on a recruiting trip. He hoped to find some crazy people to voluntarily fly through the walls of hurricanes for the purpose of taking readings. I raised my hand because A. I loved the weather career field.
            B. I was young and adventurous.
            C. I thought it would be cool.
      The guy looked at the wedding band on my raised hand and shook his head.
"Sorry, son. We don't take any married guys, for obvious reasons."
      Well, that was okay because then, as now, my wife is more fun than flying through the wall of a hurricane and at times she is as peaceful as the 'eye'. It may get really stormy around her in the morning, when she reads this.
    When hurricane season rolls around I still like to get the coordinates of these storms from The National Hurricane Center in Miami and plot them on a map, much as I used to do for the status boards, back in the day. By the way, there is an app for that. I'd rather just grab a grease pencil and plot it.
    As Hurricane Irene lumbers northward toward the East Coast of the United States, I think back on weather stuff. I remember being in the Delaware Bay when a tropical storm rolled in, back in the 1980's, I think. I was in a concrete box at a plant and had to ride it out.
      I remember tracking a hurricane on radar as it approached the gulf coast, watching it spawn a line of tornado infested thunderstorms.
    I remember sitting on the beach at Jekyll Island as a hurricane approached, watching the sea and sky change as tourists behind me were packing and moving out.
    The weather career field is terrific. If you love a good storm, that would be a great job for you youngsters. Someone reading this may be the next Jim Cantorre.
    Oh, yeah. About that title. Many decades ago there was a popular song called Goodnight, Irene. It went something like this, Goodnight Irene, goodnight Irene, I'll see you in my dreams. I'm pretty sure that the singer was not thinking about a massive, destructive and totally unfeeling monster with only one eye, but one never knows. For my part, hurricanes are beautiful, in a way, merely because of the intense interest which they generate in me. Maybe tonight, I'll see her (Irene) in my dreams.
     From the author's green retreat, far from the ocean, I'm CE Wills.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The White Chicken Mystery

    The other night I happened to come home very late. It was the middle of the night and I was driving up a steep mountain road. Near the top I saw something white in my headlights. It was standing in the other lane, standing very still. It was a large white chicken. It was probably a rooster because I thought I could see his comb as I whizzed by at my customary pace. He never moved a muscle. This is weird, don't you think?      After a couple of days to consider this phenomenon, I have come up with some plausible answers for his bizarre behavior. 1. He was conflicted whether or not he should cross the road. 2. He was feeling cocky and decided to play chicken with the traffic. 3.He was being hen-pecked at home and had decided to end it all. 4. Someone had egged him on to do it. 5. He had just watched the movie Fantastic Four and decided to try to stop a truck the way that Ben Grimm did on the bridge. 6. He had driven himself crazy wondering if ...

Egg Art

     Hey, everyone. One of the odd customs in America is the Easter Egg Hunt. Here at the Green Retreat, we do a hunt every Spring. I just ran across some of the pictures from this years hunt and it is obvious that an artist had sneaked into our midst. The orange egg is a rendering of one of the Angry Birds of gaming lore. If I were a bird and had to pass an egg that size, I would be angry too. Ha, ha.      We typically will dye about 10 dozen eggs and people get quite creative with their quotes and colors, as you can see. Many of the eggs are a bit risque for these pages. After having a few laughs, we hide the eggs. All of them are never found, which is cool. It is amusing to see old men (me) and all ages of folks, walking around with a basket on their arm. Some of the hiding spots are dastardly. Like eggs hidden in the guttering downspouts and ten foot up a tree. The kids are perhaps the most devious at hiding the colorful orbs, goi...

Cake Is Better Than Swords

Hey, everyone. On Thanksgiving, we had a get-together here at The Author's Green Retreat. One lady brought a cake which I wanted to show you. It had the look of a Roman Coliseum about it. Inside it was just as decadent...and fun, as ancient Rome. When I cut it open, homemade marshmallow cream began to ooze out in several spots, running over the chocolate cake and peanut butter icing. It is best served warm so the cream is fluid. Very tasty. The same lady, and her children, are people who have played a lot of Skyrim. They gave me some pointers on the game because I am having problems with it. They taught me how to fast travel, and a ton of other things, but the main thing was the armor and clothing problem. This is a little embarrassing, but let me explain. Okay. For several weeks when I played, I would enter towns and everyone I met would comment on my nakedness. I would select a tunic and shoes, whatever, go back around people and they would say something about it. I guess I w...