The news is full of the huge storm hitting the U.S. Atlantic coast. Always hard to know how much the need for high ratings enters into the news cycle–“right up there with one of the great storms of history,” “the worst storm in New Jersey history,” “leading to catastrophic damage in the coastal areas,” “unprecedented”–but it does keep you listening/watching. I just spoke to a friend in Brooklyn. They’re getting big winds, but haven’t been hit by the worst of it yet. She and her daughter and son-in-law have battened down the hatches and are doing what New Yorkers do: scarf down chips, dips, and wine and watch TV. My friend, a nondrinker, said she’d rather mimic this revenge of the old people from Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life:
There seems no question it’ll be pretty bad. They’re talking about a 12-foot tidal surge. Such danger and disruption to people’s lives, and, always, the ugly memory of Hurricane Katrina and the abandoned poor of New Orleans lurking in the background. Heaven help us if the government can’t do better this time. I wish safe passage to all affected.
Here in San Francisco, it’s all about the Giants winning the World Series. Wild celebrating last night, horns honking, fireworks, people pouring into the streets. Does it speak for the state of the union that people are so much more excited about baseball than the presidential election?
Sun breaking through the fog, lighting up the scarlet grape leaves on the west fence. Vinnie the roving cat has already paid a morning visit, looking for leftovers. Our gray cat was curled up decorously on the red couch and paid no attention, and the orange cat stretched out next to the heat outlet of my husband’s laptop, sleeping soundly. I slept soundly too, once the horns stopped honking, and for the first time in weeks woke up pain-free. A gift from the gods!
Age and weather–they bring us back to the basics.