Putting Up with Tropical Storm Fay

Having lived in west central Florida (about halfway between Tampa and Orlando) for twelve years, I am an old hand when it comes to tropical storms and hurricanes, and tropical storm Fay has followed a typical pattern.

I know that tropical storms and hurricanes do extreme damage and cost lives. Even as far inland as I am, I lost a roof to a hurricane a few years ago. But, for most of the time in most of the state, tropical storms and hurricanes are more a matter of frustration than anything else.

For tropical storm Fay, local television news departments has gone into overkill, as usual, with hours of reports of school closings (followed by reports of school boards changing the decision to close the school), even changes (or no changes) in scheduled garbage pickups. One reporter gleefully showed a small pit of rusty metal siding half torn from a building that looked abandoned. Inevitably, tourists are interviewed about the unexpected turn their vacations have taken.

Of course, school closings are serious matters (I was a teacher for twenty years). No one wants to endanger children, but then, again, no one wants unnecessary disruption (especially during the first few days of school). We feel helpless in the face of a tropical storm or hurricane, listening to the governor say he does not really know what is going on, and guessing how much the price of orange juice will rise.

By the way, if you wonder why Fay is called a tropical storm and not a hurricane, and why this storm is called Fay, you can check my article on tropical storms, hurricanes, and their names (here).

During this week of tropical storm Fay, we have seen her enter and leave Florida (giving her the title of the boomerang storm) more than once. When a tropical storm comes onto land, she weakens in intensity, then returns to the ocean, and like a vampire in a blood bank, comes back tougher than ever.

We are all suffering hurricane fatigue; Fay is not even a hurricane, so we are just enduring tropical storm boredom. In any given hurricane or tropical storm, only a small minority of the population of the state of Florida will have major problems. In fact, tornadoes spawned by hurricanes and tropical storms often cause more damage than the hurricanes themselves.

There are fallen limbs to pick up, perhaps an uprooted palm to dispose of. In the next few days, we'll have stories of irrepressible native Floridians (a rare breed) in their eighties clearing their yards with hatchets and rakes of any souvenirs of tropical storm Fay.

Snakes and alligators will be seen where snakes and alligators should not be seen; I once sat on the picnic table in my flooded back yard and watched fish swim underneath it. My cats have just about worn out the cat door, going in and out, trying to decide where they want to be. A few years ago, my parrot combined his interest in the weather with his love for two of his best friends by coining the word "hurricat."

From personal experience, uh, observation, I would guess that hurricanes are great for business at liquor stores. There are a few who end up like Forrest Gump's Lieutenant Dan, swinging from a mask and daring the storm. Come to think of it, I have ignored some mandated evacuation orders. For most of us, the situation is more like that in Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot, uh, Waiting for Fay. When Fay finally leaves, we all should join in a chorus of Peggy Lee's "Is That All There Is?" Adding, thank goodness, of course.

Tropical storm Fay came into Florida from the south, then veered to the east and has been terrorizing and almost drowning the east coast. Now, Fay is supposed to go across north Florida (Jacksonville to Tallahassee) and will probably dump some water on my old hometown in south Georgia. As Fay moves west, it will be heading closer to us (even though not in our direction, unless it makes an unexpected turn south).

Today has been a real illustration of the dictum that if you are in Florida and you don't like the weather, wait five minutes, and it will change. Within 30 minutes, we had loud winds, heavy rains, and sunshine.

But, there is still enough wind that I'm not going to go to the trouble of moving out all the plants, yard furniture, and other things that I moved in earlier. (Hurricane strength winds can turn such things into deadly unguided missiles.) It's too dreary to think about a hurricane party, and besides, Fay is a tropical storm, not a hurricane.

The cats are both in, the parrot just asked for his lunch, and if Fay won't leave us, maybe the best I can do is drink a toast to her, if we have anything stronger than a diet Coke left in the house, as I rewrite the proverb, "Fish and visitors stink after three days," to include tropical storms.