Hurricaneville, North Carolina
by Diane Buccheri
Oh, what to do? Stay or go? It’s always a nerve wracking decision and after the decision is made, the following consequences are equally nerve wracking.
My nerves were never wracked in such a way before I moved to a small island of shifting sand surrounded by water though hurricanes have always appeared in my life. Having grown up in a wooded area of suburban Connecticut, a few category 1 hurricanes (the weakest category of hurricane force wind speeds) visited my Connecticut home, knocking down trees and power lines. Trees were crashed together and often knocked each other over, but I never felt life endangered. At college in southern California I was huddled in the dormitory during a western, Pacific hurricane (much to my surprise). The first floor of the dorm was glass enclosed and the glass got smashed in. School was canceled for a day or two, the Santa Monica pier was toppled, and the horses at the ranch where I was riding became spooked and not rideable. Oh, too, I went for a swim at the Santa Monica beach and found myself tumbled, pinned to the ocean floor, wondering if my neck had been snapped, and pulled out by my big, Hawaiian surfer boy classmate who had accompanied me to the beach that weekend following the hurricane.