Waiting for Earl

The first drops have not yet fallen from the hurricane that lurks off the Atlantic coast, but Earl should arrive sometime later this morning, nearly a week after the first forecasts predicted the track could sweep through New England. Just yesterday Earl was a Category 4 monster, ranked as one of the worst hurricanes to visit the neighborhood in 20 years, threatening to grow in power. Today it looks like it might just degrade into a gray, gusty, rainy day. The kind of day, in other words, that New England used to take for granted in between blasts of summer sunshine.

The Hurricane of ’38, that iconic storm that all young Rhode Islanders learned about at our bedsides and kitchen tables, the tempest that has become a kind of New England version of “Beowulf,” substituting weather for dragons, pummeled a state that was unaware and unprepared. But now we have six days of Doppler Radar showing the giant green blob creeping up the East Coast like a sick sea turtle turning in circles. We have The Weather Channel broadcasting endlessly from every beach on the Eastern Seaboard. We have Weather Underground and various Storm-Trackers and the slow crawl under “The Office” or the Red Sox game, announcing school closings and beach closings and tropical storm warning updates.

Earl has been a kind of shadow companion throughout the work week, poking us in the ribs as we went about our daily business of meeting deadlines, fulfilling social obligations and commuting between places. He was everywhere, part of every conversation, whether you tuned into radio, television or Internet, whether you visited the grocery store or the pizza joint, or whether you were just kibitzing with friends or co-workers. The old stories, photographs and video of hurricanes of yore were dragged out by the media, a succession of ’38, Carol, Gloria and Bob. Pub TVs usually tuned to ESPN had switched to Earl, 24-7. Communities announced voluntary evacuations – begging the question, what exactly is a voluntary evacuation? Technically, couldn’t I voluntarily evacuate anytime I’d like, or do I now need permission from a town official? Did I miss a memo?

A local politician even took Earl seriously enough to send an e-mail to newsrooms yesterday afternoon with a four-line bold headline that read:

With Unpredictability of Hurricane Earl, Independent
Candidate for State Senate Kevin O’Neill Asks His
Supporters and Constituents in South Kingstown and
Block Island to remove his lawn signs today.

The candidate was worried about damage to people and property presumably caused by political signs with his name on it uprooting and swirling around in 140 mile per hour winds like the thunderbolts of Zeus. And it’s true, a rash of voters impaled by political signs might have some effect on the polls.

But such is the way of weather these days. Long before they strike, hurricanes are bloated with the precipitation of hype and hot air. Better, as always, to pay attention to nature. All week the bees have been in a chaotic frenzy, swarming and stinging. The tree frogs have been noisier than normal at dusk. The cicadas have ratcheted up their heat songs during the week of 90-plus-degree weather that preceded Earl’s arrival. All of them telling us, in their own way, not to forget the raincoat on our way out the door today.

What is your favorite storm story?

[Blogger's note: Early blog today because of Monday's Labor Day holiday, when any remnants of Earl will be confined to the dryer. Back on Sept. 13.]