Stock photo.
Ah 2020: what a year you're turning out to be. It looks like we're getting a hurricane. Tropical Storm Christobal—already a record breaker as the earliest a third named storm has ever formed in the Atlantic hurricane season—appears to be on track to make landfall in or near South Louisiana late this weekend. So with the pandemic supplies scarcely dented and the pantry still overflowing with doomsday-prepper quantities of rice, flour and dried beans, it's time to stock up again, adding gas and batteries to the shopping list to hedge against the expectation of days, or weeks, without electricity.
At least we know how to prepare for a hurricane, which after a couple of months of global pandemic, near-total economic shutdown, and the agonizing spectacle of widespread protest against police treatment of black Americans, almost seems like business as usual. We buy ice and dry food, clear out the fridge, and—as I've learned from bitter experience—gas for the generator. Because the generator is reason I'm still married.
As has been mentioned before, where we live is kind of remote. Like, ten-miles-from-the-nearest place-to-buy-milk remote. So when a storm or other natural disaster knocks out power to large swathes of the parish, we tend to be the last people to see the utility trucks roll in. In 2005 when Katrina steamrolled South Louisiana, it was the best part of three weeks before we got electricity back—a long, hot, sweaty reminder that the good ole days, weren't. So in 2007, when forecasts began predicting a Louisiana landfall for Hurricane Gustav my wife told me to go and buy a generator. I refused, arguing that it would be money wasted, since surely another hurricane couldn't possibly hit so hard, so soon after the last one. We argued about this for several days … then I went and bought a generator. As everyone in or near Baton Rouge knows, Gustav proceeded to give our part of the world a thorough kicking, and we ran that new generator solid for more than two weeks. Thirteen years later my Gustav generator remains a trusty and cherished companion. Just like my wife. Cheaper than marriage counseling, too.
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