I’m sitting on the 3rd floor of our Reservoir Hill rowhome. This part of Baltimore is safely above sea level, and over a mile from the Inner Harbor. But we have friends closer to the water downtown, so there’s still anxiety.
Because it’s another in a string of gorgeous fall days, the window before me is open and I can smell the sea. A steady breeze has kicked up and papers on my desk are flapping a bit. My vantage is facing east toward Hampden and Remington, and several long grey strands of thin cloud, like the radiating arms of a spiral galaxy, are moving up from my right. I actually have three windows before me, two in a bow where my desk sits, and another flat window to my right. I have a pretty good view of the sky from here. An even better one from the roof if I feel like climbing our antediluvian fire escape and ladder.
I get all excited by storms. I don’t know why. The Mrs. and I were nearly killed by a tornado outside Wilkes-Barre PA a few years back while driving to a family vacation in upstate New York. All I can remember about the event is my intense excitement. “A tree just floated gently across the road in front of us!” “Wow, that was an acre of forest a few seconds ago!” “I remember that I should drive under an overpass–wow, I’ve always read that and now I’m DOING it.”
So I must admit a feeling of excitement about Sandy. It’s terrible of course to feel excitement when there will be intense hardship for many, and perhaps even us. But I can’t help it, it’s part of who I am. I used to feel a delicious fear during the tornado sequence of The Wizard of Oz when I was a toddler, and photos or paintings of tornadoes were my favorite thing as a child, even beating out dinosaurs and June Angelo from the Electric Company.
Tonight is the Halloween lantern parade in Patterson Park, and the following ball at the Creative Alliance. When will we next get out on the town? Will there be days off work? Will we have power?
Here we go…