Good morning.
I've been trying to figure out why some people refuse to get themselves out of harm's way during a hurricane. I completely
understand the visceral attachment to the ocean with its captivating moods, but wanting to experience a giant temper tantrum is just plain nuts. These stalwarts tell the news folks who interview them that they're worried about someone stealing their stuff if they leave, because they haven't processed the fact that losing a TV or a couch is a great big nothing compared to being swept away by a wall of water.
Violent weather is a fact of life, and I'm not among those who think that God gets all riled up and dispatches a storm to a city that has a couple of adult book stores. I don't understand meteorology, prognostication, or Doppler radar, but I appreciate being told when I need to worry about some kind of swirly thing that can kill me. This means, if I am a person of reason, that I take precautions depending on where I live. If I'm anywhere on the eastern seaboard or in the bosom of the Gulf of Mexico and I'm repeatedly told by two dozen people on television that a hurricane is about to land on my head, I get the hell out of the way. If I can't afford several days in a hotel, I go to a shelter. I take my kids, my pets, and maybe some important papers and pictures, but I sandbag and board up my house and I leave.
Tornadoes are a different breed of weather. You're lucky if you get an hour's notice that one of these monsters is bearing down, but you still have options if you're an intelligent human being. If you live in what is known as Tornado Alley, you do not reside in a trailer. If you can't afford a house, you live in an apartment with a basement. If you're able to purchase a home, you don't buy one on a concrete slab with nowhere to hide except in an interior closet. This rule applies to a house almost anywhere these days, because tornadoes are popping up in places that are supposed to be safe from them.
Blizzards are like hurricanes; there's no excuse to perish in one. You do not set off on a road trip across a big Midwestern
state, for example, if a ferocious winter storm with white out conditions is forecast two days in advance. Most people where I live keep a survival kit in the car with blankets, candles, and granola bars in case they get stranded coming home from a basketball tournament or a business meeting, but the sane course is to heed the warnings and stay put in a motel rather than thinking you can beat the storm in a 4 wheel drive. And there's always the person who ignores the advice of staying with his or her vehicle in the event of being swallowed up by howling winds and snow and sets off on foot to get help.
Other weather upheaval is sometimes less predictable. I wouldn't live on a mountainside that, despite the view during times of clemency, might get pounded at some point by an avalanche or a mud slide. And then there's the matter of earthquakes that admittedly can strike anywhere but clearly favor the west coast. The San Andreas fault, running right under all those pretty neighborhoods with swimming pools and sunny skies, rattles the dishes from time to time in a clear warning that the Big One is coming. Meanwhile we say wow, that was only a 4.5 or a Cat 2 or an F1. No big deal.
Best regards,
Elisabeth
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