Back in the fifties and sixties Michael was a very popular name for boys. Generally the very unscientific analysis of boys named Michael suggested either boys that were always getting into trouble or, later on, boys that whined a lot. My own experience with boys named Michael is a boy who grew up somewhat uneventful and now demonstrates his rebelliousness quietly reading Ezra Pound and Allen Ginsberg.
But almost without warning a new Michael is rapidly growing in the Gulf and heading right for my house.
So, in deference to heavy flooding and lack of electricity, the Tallahassee homestead with be packing up and headed north to Atlanta. I think Ricky will stay behind this time, safe and happy in a veritable bunker of a kennel and for medical reasons (and stairs) I am targeted for a hotel or motel not far from where the kids and grandkids will be crashing.
I’ve gotten all my meds together, enough for two weeks, just in case. Unfortunately I just stocked up on refrigerator items: hope they last at least a week (we intend to return home Sunday).
I’ve only lived here two years but we have evacuated twice, been without power for over a week, watched some very large trees twist and bend in high winds, tried to get across town through minor flooding without benefit of working traffic lights, and spent many a late summer evening without lights or air conditioning.
Hopefully I get a family discount on this one: one Michael to another .