The news is dominated by an event that hasn’t occurred.  A hurricane is coming to Texas. I listen to the reports and flash back to my childhood. Of course, a childhood in the Northeast isn’t particularly fraught with hurricanes. A Texas hurricane can be like a visit to boys town and with a paid trip around the world. In the end, you know you have been somewhere. A hurricane is Massachusetts is like kissing your cousin, never could figure out what the big deal was.

Back when I was a kid, hurricanes were named after a woman. Just mention Carol, or Donna to make an old timer cringe. This one is named Harvey. What kind of name is that? Harvey is a six-foot tall invisible rabbit in a Jimmy Stewart movie. The authorities are advising people to be prepared, spay and neuter their pets, stock up supplies, candles, and batteries.

My mother believed all of the advice and intended to follow it. She didn’t like thunderstorms. A hurricane is like a thunderstorm X 10. Head for the cellar and batten down the hatches.

As Cellars went, we weren’t in bad shape. It was finished, had a bathroom, and that’s where the TV was. On the downside, the TV had three channels, and the cellar had an equal number of windows. Can you say sensory deprivation? This was all well and good for my mother and the dog; they sat off in a corner panting together. Once the order was given, that was it; nobody went back up stairs. It was hell.

I arrived at an alternative arrangement entirely by accident. A hurricane was coming. We got up and got ready for school only to have school canceled. This put us in a “no man’s land”, fixing to hurricane but not yet, the weatherman said so. Using this technicality, I escaped from my house and went to my friend’s house. I resisted the urge to go home as the storm approached and only called home when the weather man made it official, we were in a hurricane! Translation it was raining.

The offer to start home immediately and transit the 300 feet of storm ravaged neighborhood necessary to accomplish the task was firmly rejected by my mother. I could be swept away by flooding and drown, be struck by lightning, or be whisked away by high winds never to be seen again. There was the possibility that a falling tree would crush me or a wind driven road sign could cut me in half. After being assured that I wouldn’t be a burden to my friend’s mother, I was instructed to remain where I was for the duration.

With a cellar pass firmly in place, we then went out to see if we could find, flood waters, trees falling, or road signs flying. Never did. As the storm intensified even, we had enough sense to retreat to the screened in front porch. The marathon Monopoly game could be an admission that the storm had reached its full fury. Has anybody in the history of the game ever played it through to its conclusion without a hurricane or blizzard raging in the background? I didn’t think so.

The eye of the storm signaled the end to the festivities. It seemed like it always came through at about 5 pm. We all went outside to ooh and ahh the damage inflicted on the neighborhood thus far. It was also my signal to head for home, back to the dungeon.

Oh well, I’m in Texas. Don’t have a basement. Guess I’ll be on the front porch.