Twittering

Trees Down!

As we are without power right now, I am drinking my martini straight up to calm the nerves. I’m writing to tell you that here, in Very East Lake Forest, we have survived – Sideways Rain ’05. We have not escaped unscathed, but we are alive and safe and it is in times like this that we look inward, and remind ourselves that it is adversity that tries men’s souls. For it is under pressure than one can judge the character of a man. And so, we will approach this crisis like any other event in the course of our lives – with gracious dignity and honor.

The National Weather Service issued a severe thunderstorm warning, indicating that a squall was headed our direction. After checking the Doppler radar, I was able to triangulate the trajectory and determined it would hit Very East Lake Forest at approximately 1:25 p.m. I looked at the clock; it was 1;13 p.m. Luckily, I had a twelve-minute warning and I was able to mix a cocktail. Thank goodness for the National Weather Service; they really put the weather in national service.

I’d like to spare you the details, but as the power is out, there is no other thing to do than to discuss the drama we have just lived through. The skies darkened a darkness I had not seen in the likes of daytime. Why, it was so dark, had the clouds not been in the way, you would have seen the stars. And then the rains came. They came down fast, and furious, and with great force as to overshoot the gutters. Lightning flashed, thunder clapped, and the wind blew like a great barbarian.

At one point, the trees in the front yard, were sideways. Whole branches flew across the sky. “Oh, God! The trees,” I said. “The trees. The historic trees. Somebody, save the trees.” But nothing could save the trees from this storm. I was surprised we did not see a cow fly by.

Our house became surrounded by several inches of water. I took the hanging plants down so they could take a drink. In the back, on the patio, the water was dripping, and splashing and blowing. “Oh, my clean beautiful windows washed by Sydney Services,” I said.

The cat screamed. He screamed in horror as he scratched at the closet door to get in and take cover. I held Sheleata tight in my hands. He’s a chunker, but I figured holding him tight in my hands would comfort him in the face of God’s fury. The lights flashed, and the power went out.

The rain came down and down, but not without first going sideways. And slowly, the rain began to let up. It was like emerging from God’s giant car wash, and any antennas or wipers not tied down, were victims. Tony got out the ladder, to inspect the gutters. The ceiling in the bedroom had started to leak. I cleared the debris from the driveway. We were shaken, but we were alive.

And then, I thought, “You know, I’d better check on the neighbors. Maybe they weren’t so lucky.” I got on my bike, and rode down towards the lake. There was a tree down in the middle of the road. A beautiful, historic tree. And with the house number on it! The women who’s house number was now smashed into her lawn came out into the street, wearing a garbage bag over her designer summer outfit. I thought how horrible it is that she can’t afford appropriate rain gear, so I offered her my parka. She looked so dazed and confused, like she had no idea how to get the tree out of the road without a team of Mexicans. I thought about how lucky I was as I watched this poor, poor woman with no clothes to wear and a tree to move.

Other people began to emerge from their starter castles. And they all congregated, and asked if anyone had power.

I felt I had to say something to the confused, treeless bag lady. You now, something to point out the brighter side of life in her moment of loss and show some concern beyond whether or not she had power. “Well, at least the tree didn’t land in your beautiful, beautiful flower beds,” I said.

The fire department came. I suspect responding to false alarms at all those houses along the lake that are hard wired to the department. At least those without their own generators. You could hear the roar of generators everywhere. Two fire men got out of the truck to cut up the tree blocking the road.

“Thank goodness, you’re here!” exclaimed the confused, treeless bag lady.

A red Mercedes pulled up right next to the tree. The driver sat there, waiting for the fire department to remove the tree. He inched forward, as if it would help to make them work faster. I think he wished he hadn’t, when a fireman spun around with a branch, hitting the grill of the Mercedes. The devastation just… ripples, doesn’t it?

The rain started coming again, and I thought I had better seek shelter. I left the confused, treeless bag lady to her own devices, and headed home.

When I returned home, I felt grateful. Grateful and thankful. And comforted. Grateful and thankful that we didn’t have a tree down in the yard. And comforted to know that attractive firemen would come chop it up if we did. When I walked in the house, Tony was on the phone with the power company. “I don’t care what your priorities are,” he said, “do you know how much our neighbor is paying every month?” You would think they would restore our power first.

So we have gathered the kids, and we have broken out the emergency supplies. We have a bottle of Kettle One, a cocktail shaker, a couple of protein bars, and a fondue pot. So with this letter, know that we are okay here in Very East Lake Forest, we have survived, and I think just maybe we’ll be okay.