A week with Florence

Sept. 15, 2018

It would be a better story if this was about spending a week with a beautiful woman named Florence, but, alas, it is about a hurricane which has done infinitely more damage in North Carolina than in the Charleston/Mt. Pleasant area of South Carolina where I live.

The week began on a serious note on Tuesday, Sept. 11, when notices were posted that the elevators in my apartment house and three other apartment houses at 1201 Midtown were shut down. I live on the 4th floor and walking up and down the stairs is a burden. 

Even under the worst estimates hurricane Florence was three to four days from the coastline. The manager cited “protocols” as the reason for shutting down the elevators. I urged her to reconsider but to no avail as she closed the office and the employees went home to hunker down or evacuate the area. I have e-mailed the corporate headquarters recommending a second look at the “protocols.”

The governor of South Carolina ordered an evacuation from the coastal regions and it is estimated that 300,000 out of approximately 720,000 heeded his order. I was not one of them, although on Wednesday I made a hotel reservation at Hilton Head, two hours away by car. I canceled it on Thursday night as the storm decreased in strength and my area was in the outer fringe of the anticipated wind and rain.

I spent much time over the next four days watching the Weather Channel and logging into the National Hurricane Center. I topped off the fuel tank in my car and bought some groceries. Major restaurants were closed and I had a couple of meals in a Peruvian chicken shop and a sports bar. The latter was surprisingly filled with parents and dozens of small children scurrying around like they did not know the purpose of chairs.  This made for an interesting lunch, however, service was good and the food was excellent. 

The rain started in my area on Friday night and the wind picked up. Small trees were bent slightly, only the tops of bigger trees were moving in the wind. Electricity has stayed on.  On Friday, the hurricane was downgraded to a tropical storm, but the people and property in North Carolina and on the border between the two states have suffered. Five people in North Carolina are reported dead from the hurricane. 

This morning, Saturday, slight rain, almost a drizzle continues. The negligible wind cannot be heard indoors. Out-of-doors is similar to rainy summer days in the South. 

A worrisome week in Charleston/Mt. Pleasant has come to an end. The Charleston International Airport will open at noon today. 

From the hospital bed to the front porch

(Note: To protect my friend's name and home I am not using such personal data in this post.)

One night last week I went to a friend's house for a meeting of a group we belong to. It was a nice evening, the sun was moving into the West and I was looking forward to being with friends and exchanging stories about what we did while threatened by Hurricane Irma. I had gone north and visited my son and daughter in law in Virginia. 

When I arrived at my friend's house there were no lights on in the house and no other cars around. I thought this was strange because a couple of people always show up early and help set up the refreshment table. I went to the porch and tried the door. On meeting nights the door is unlocked and you enter, sit on a bench and remove your shoes. The door was locked. 

Hmmm. On the wall to the right of the door was a bell. Beneath the bell was the word "ring." A bit of overkill, I laughed: everybody knows what to do with a bell. I pushed the button and heard a bit of a chime. In a few seconds, my friend said, "Hello."

"Hi, friend. This is Archie and I am outside on the porch and here for the meeting." I assumed my friend was inside and talking to me through a speaker. 

"The meeting was canceled a couple of days ago."

"I've been gone and missed the message."

"I am in the hospital, had a heart attack and am going to be here for a few more days."

"IN THE HOSPITAL, right now? Where?"

"In downtown Charleston."

"You are in a hospital in downtown Charleston, and I am on your porch 15 miles away and we are talking like you are inside the house?"

"Yes."

Did I mention my friend is an electrical engineer?

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Matthew KO's Kayaks

Matthew KO’s Kayaks

Like the heavyweight it was, Hurricane Matthew tore through Georgia, South and North Carolina in early October leaving havoc and misery for many residents in its path. Downed trees, collapsed roofs, flooded streets and homes, water and sewer lines broken, caskets disinterred, debris everywhere. Emergency services and first responders taxed to the max. There was a report of a man who called a pizza delivery service to take a pie to his grandmother and tell her to call him. They did, she did. 

At my house there was no serious damage. One limb from a neighbor’s tree fell across the edge of the roof but it was harmless. My cleanup was easier than for thousands of others. 

All around Moss Creek, the last gated community before reaching Hilton Head Island, the affects of the storm can still be seen. It will be weeks before all the debris is carried away and restoration can begin. The golf courses haven’t re-opened yet. Horrors. Psychiatrists are on hand. (Just kidding.)

Lesser known damage sites include this kayak storage area at Moss Creek. This is at the marina where at least two boats left in the water to ride out the storm capsized. 

  

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