So let's be honest. My parents have see A LOT of hurricanes. In fact, they weathered the granddaddy of them all, Andrew. They managed to be one of the few ones in the neighborhood that had what constituted a functioning roof--one that could be lived under with the benefit of a couple of tarps.
Wilma came and went, mercifully leaving lots to clean up but not much major damage to their house. I guess the play producer, the dancer and the singer did a pretty good job when they put the new roof on the house after Andrew.
But Wilma left them powerless. Rumor has it that the power will take 4 weeks to come back on. After Andrew, it took 6 weeks to come back. In the blazing heat of August and September, they sweat it out. The neighbors all bought colossal generators, but my parents stood strong.
So I was surprised to find that my father had gone out this morning and bought a generator. When I asked him about it, he said that he was out last night, sitting on the back patio, smoking cigarettes and drinking his iced tea. He watched the lights go on, one by one, in the rear neighbor's house. The kitchen, the bathroom, the living room. As he sat in the dark, he had Monday Night Football envy.
Then the Christmas lights on the shed came on. That's when my father lost it.