Written as the storm was approaching…
I’m not quite certain that this one is even going to make it to print, but if you’re reading it, then apparently it did. I’m writing from deep within the jowls of some really angry chick named Sandy. I don’t possess a Smart phone, an iPad, a laptop, or a generator so I’ll try to get this done before the power goes out. As I sit here at my desk, I can look to the left and see the water level slowly rising and my pier floating away one plank at a time. The canal I live on is about six or seven feet above normal, but we still have about four feet to go before it breeches. I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that. Part of me is questioning my decision to stay put and hunker down with my family in the face of this epic storm. This storm is very unique in the sense that it is so massive. Had we decided to leave, I wondered just how far we would have had to travel to get out of harm’s way. According to the weather maps, it looks as if the only way to go far enough west to escape Sandy would have put is in the midst of a blizzard. With that in mind, my family and I opted to stay put and hope for the best. Most of the escape routes would prove to be no less dangerous than staying right where we are.
I’m currently reminded of all those times that I watched clips of people sitting on their own roofs in flooded areas as I said aloud: “look at these idiots!” I’m really hoping I don’t find myself wading chest deep in a combination of Mother Nature’s perspiration, and my own hypocrisies. We do have the luxury of a second floor to migrate to should it come to that, but I’d prefer not to.
As frightening, and potentially damaging as this weather anomaly is, I have to keep my cool because I’m the man of the house. With this in mind, I’ve subsequently adopted the current attitude of my children. Their angelic care free innocence and naivety at this time is admirable. They know not that the finger of God himself is pressing down on the entire eastern seaboard as we speak. They couldn’t care less that heavy winds, driving rains, and rising water are buffeting the back of our humble home. All they seem to know is that there’s no school today, no work today, Mommy and Daddy are both home at the same time, and we’re all together. Their excitement and jubilance over this, from the infant, to the seven-year-old is emanating from each of them like a beacon. Thankfully, it’s contagious, rendering it impossible for my lovely wife and I not to get caught up in it.
We’ve made all of the pre-storm preparations we could to this point so now we’re just going to enjoy some much needed and always welcome family time. So of course, we’ve converted our entire living room into the largest and coolest living room fort ever. We worked as a team to round up every single pillow, blanket, beach towel, and cushion in the house. Between the cushions, and blankets, the floor of this tent is so soft that it’s almost trampoline like. This comes in handy because it will serve as sleeping quarters for the five of us for at least two nights. What the kids think is just really cool and comfortable is my way of ensuring that we are all safe and sleeping in the same room. Then there are the sheets thumb tacked and duct taped to the wall to form the ceiling. Again, what the kids just think is really cool, I think of as a protective barrier should the windows implode. As if the fort wasn’t already awesome enough, inside of it are a sofa, love seat, rocking chair, fireplace, and 46 inch television. As well as a hidden “secret” box full of candles, matches, flashlights, batteries, water bottles, and other emergency supplies.
It’s all part of Daddy 101: turn protecting your family during potential crisis situations into a game; make cautionary measures fun for the whole family. Next thing you know with just a tiny little bit of deception and slight of hand, everyone is together, safe, and having a blast without ever realizing they were constructing their own storm shelter. We’ve spent one night together in our palatial living room fort so far, and loved it. My seven-year-old has named it Camp Snuggle. How can you not love that childish exuberance even in the face of potential danger?
The weather outside may be frightful, but my family time is so delightful! I remain confident that we will all be safe. I’m also confident that regardless of my wishes, the living room fort will be intact and in use long after Sandy has come and gone. My hope now is that the worst thing I may have to endure this week is explaining to three little girls dressed respectively as Rainbow Dash (of My Little Pony fame), a monkey, and a banana that they may not get to go trick or treating.
I had no intentions of writing about weather events this week, but considering that a piece of patio furniture just flew past me, I kind of felt obligated. The weird part is, it wasn’t from my deck. Evidently, I just—temporarily at least—acquired a chair from a neighbor down the canal.
For the rest of this column, I’ll tell you a story about a significant event from my own home this week. It wasn’t long ago that the date October 27th had no significance to me at all. Here to fore it will be the anniversary of what is now one of the five greatest days of my life. One year ago, the courts, the state of Maryland, the legal system, Social Security, and every other necessary paper pushing agency officially and legally recognized what the rest of us already knew. That seven-year-old Kylie is MY daughter. The long and arduous process became complete; a lengthy journey that was so worthwhile. This amazing, thoughtful, loving little girl now celebrates two birthdays, the day she was born, and the day the adoption was final. I too will celebrate both with equal vigor for as long as I walk the Earth. I may not have known her for the first few years of her life, but I solemnly vow to never miss another day of it. My Princess changed my life and I couldn’t possibly be more proud to call her my daughter. I fell head over heels in love with her the day I met her and have fallen deeper each and every day since. So from now on, every year on October 27th, there will be cake, there will be gifts, there will be an unparalleled level of love and pride, and there WILL be cause for celebration. I can only hope that as she grows from a cherubic little girl to a lovely woman, with certainty is that she will always, ALWAYS, be Daddy’s little girl.
The Follow-up…
Well, Miss Sandy has come and gone and all things considered, we were very lucky. Much more fortunate than many others north of us. There was a time, not so long ago when hurricane preparations for me would have entailed making sure I had plenty of vodka and cigarettes, and buying two AAA batteries for my keychain flashlight. When I lived alone, those were all the emergency supplies I felt I needed. This time however, I found myself stocking up on diapers of two different sizes, batteries of four different varieties, candles, milk, ice, matches, and all kind of grown-up things. In fact, I rode this one out without a single cocktail. I wanted to be clear headed in case I had to quickly relocate my family, even if it were only to the second floor. Don’t take that to imply that I’m mature now though.
I spent most of the time playing with my girls in our awesome living room fort. We spent a lengthy amount of time playing a game that consisted of me lying on the living room floor bouncing a rubber ball off the brick wall above my fireplace and trying to hit the girls. When my wife heard all of the laughter, she abandoned her studying and came in to see what was going on. I quickly stowed the ball under a blanket and lay still as if she couldn’t see me if I remained motionless. Per her questioning, my 7-year-old immediately kicked me under the bus and I was placed in time out. I sat out my ten minutes in shame like a pre-schooler who got caught eating a booger.
I also made sure to sleep in the fort with two of my daughters while my wife slept in our room with the baby. This was for multiple reasons. The first, was to ensure that all of our girls were safe and in the company of one of us. The second is that both my girls and I thought it was really cool to camp out indoors. The third is that the camp was surprisingly comfortable. And the fourth, and possibly the most important, is that my wife and I in the same room under these circumstances could potentially initiate further procreation. This has gotten to be a pricey hobby. And based on Karma, and my luck, it would have been another girl. I didn’t want to feel obligated to name a daughter Sandy just based on the circumstances surrounding her conception. Although, I guess it’s not actually obligatory, because despite circumstances, my youngest is NOT named Irene. (Wink).
Kidding aside, we were very fortunate, and my whole family is aware of how lucky we were. The water level rose to within about a foot of entering our home but never actually did. The only damage we sustained that I’ve noticed so far is that a large portion of our pier is gone. I can live with that. Thank you Sandy for sparing us, and our thoughts are with those who weren’t so fortunate.
Until next time,
Syd Nichols
