Looking
out at the calm ocean, it's hard to believe that a giant
storm is on its way, barreling toward the East Coast as I type. The
local media has nicknamed it "Frankenstorm" as it's about to screw up
everyone's Halloween plans.
That's a new thing - the
weather service has decided to start officially naming storms so it's
easier to hash tag them. But that system hasn't gone into effect yet, so
we're still getting the fun, made-up names, like last year's
"Snowtober" storm. And now, Frankenstorm. Go ahead, say it. It's fun to
say.
I
guess I haven't lived through a "real" coastal storm yet. I've been
lucky in my years on the Cape. The insurance company keeps telling us
that when they raise the rates in preparation for The Big One. I remain
skeptical of just how bad a storm could be around here. I mean, it's not
Haiti. It's Cape Cod.
And then I look at my sister's
experience last year in Killington, another upscale resort community.
Her house made it through unscathed, but her road was washed away. As
were many of her friends homes, cars and possessions. And the Woodstock
Inn (where she works) took forever to recover from the flooding and the
mud damage. The state of Vermont is still in the process of recovering,
more than a year later.
So maybe I will move the patio
furniture, and bring the pumpkins inside. And keep my fingers crossed
that the storm goes out to sea instead of crashing on my shore.
Although it does have a cool name.
