far, far, far, ...
On my way through Tallahassee, from home in Apalachicola, the first Friday of November 1993, I jammed on brakes as the pickup truck in front of me unexpectedly stopped for the changing traffic light. Too late in the drizzling rain, I skidded on the wet pavement and slammed into him as the hood of my car came up in my face and the transmission rose into the seat beside me. Little or no damage to the pickup truck, but my car was ruined, totalled. Running a few minutes later than intended, I had been, obviously foolishly, rushing to get there before school let out, to pick up Nicholas and take him home to Apalachicola for the weekend.
It's not necessary now to reassemble my revised weekend, delays, car towing, car rental, only to recall the emotional trauma and jump-out-of-my skin mental state that pierced my soul and held on for months during which driving, and even riding in the front seat of a car, was an unnerving trial. I don't know how long it took me to return to a new normal, but it was months.
Though in long retrospect a positive experience about driving, and hurrying, and the "follow-too-close" traffic ticket that was humblingly hand-delivered to me personally at the rectory by the cooperating Franklin County Sheriff's Department some weeks later, the crash put me in high tension mode for years.
This morning, I'm recalling this quarter-century ago history because
hurricane season is coming home to roost again, and I not only know the mental alarm state of Bay County, I'm part and parcel of it. It's now Time to get rattled, but especially to be aware of why this is happening to me, us, and that it's not "sissy" but to be expected. Still in emotional shambles, we are far, far, far, far from recovered after last October's Cat 5 Hurricane Michael. Recovering, but like a "recovering" alcoholic, possibly forever recovering, never recovered. The emotional trauma is too great.
The physical scene is coming along. There is rebuilding. Many buildings sport new roofs. Quite a few buildings along Harrison Avenue have been demolished, scraped out property looking like an archeological dig and bringing to mind the ugly, bloody gap after a tooth extraction. Though much progress has been made, many homes and businesses still lie crushed, evidently-abandoned homes and property, including on West Beach Drive, overgrown with high weeds, and windowless ruins with vines, as Father Nature moves rapidly to reclaim what we mistakenly think is ours. Property valuations are down (look at your proposed tax bill that just came in the mail). County population has dropped; east of Hathaway Bridge elementary school enfollment is down by a quarter and four Bay District schools have been closed. But the worst is jumpiness, emotional, mental health. The county is filled with new "trailer parks" where people are living long term in travel trailers. Reports are that thousands of families are still homeless, and that therefore includes school children, rattled and scared and - - acting out is the term. Mental health facilities are strained as people are referred for medical help, and Baker-acted, and sent elsewhere in Florida because of both the overcrowded and that many professionals have fled.
https://www.tampabay.com/florida-politics/buzz/2019/06/13/eight-months-after-hurricane-michael-many-fear-a-mental-health-crisis/
And now Dorian, a gardenia alphabet storm with us in its cone for the Labor Day weekend and kids are already afraid with solid cause. Too much is e-alphabet-nough. And no making with the BS stiff upper lip bravado. Face what is. We will never again relax during June through November.
It's not necessary now to reassemble my revised weekend, delays, car towing, car rental, only to recall the emotional trauma and jump-out-of-my skin mental state that pierced my soul and held on for months during which driving, and even riding in the front seat of a car, was an unnerving trial. I don't know how long it took me to return to a new normal, but it was months.
Though in long retrospect a positive experience about driving, and hurrying, and the "follow-too-close" traffic ticket that was humblingly hand-delivered to me personally at the rectory by the cooperating Franklin County Sheriff's Department some weeks later, the crash put me in high tension mode for years.
This morning, I'm recalling this quarter-century ago history because
hurricane season is coming home to roost again, and I not only know the mental alarm state of Bay County, I'm part and parcel of it. It's now Time to get rattled, but especially to be aware of why this is happening to me, us, and that it's not "sissy" but to be expected. Still in emotional shambles, we are far, far, far, far from recovered after last October's Cat 5 Hurricane Michael. Recovering, but like a "recovering" alcoholic, possibly forever recovering, never recovered. The emotional trauma is too great.
The physical scene is coming along. There is rebuilding. Many buildings sport new roofs. Quite a few buildings along Harrison Avenue have been demolished, scraped out property looking like an archeological dig and bringing to mind the ugly, bloody gap after a tooth extraction. Though much progress has been made, many homes and businesses still lie crushed, evidently-abandoned homes and property, including on West Beach Drive, overgrown with high weeds, and windowless ruins with vines, as Father Nature moves rapidly to reclaim what we mistakenly think is ours. Property valuations are down (look at your proposed tax bill that just came in the mail). County population has dropped; east of Hathaway Bridge elementary school enfollment is down by a quarter and four Bay District schools have been closed. But the worst is jumpiness, emotional, mental health. The county is filled with new "trailer parks" where people are living long term in travel trailers. Reports are that thousands of families are still homeless, and that therefore includes school children, rattled and scared and - - acting out is the term. Mental health facilities are strained as people are referred for medical help, and Baker-acted, and sent elsewhere in Florida because of both the overcrowded and that many professionals have fled.
https://www.tampabay.com/florida-politics/buzz/2019/06/13/eight-months-after-hurricane-michael-many-fear-a-mental-health-crisis/
And now Dorian, a gardenia alphabet storm with us in its cone for the Labor Day weekend and kids are already afraid with solid cause. Too much is e-alphabet-nough. And no making with the BS stiff upper lip bravado. Face what is. We will never again relax during June through November.