It still blows my mind that so much of the things I think about are always about fishing. Yea, there are amazing amounts of specs in the sound, along with lots of little puppy drum in the sound and surf, but there’s so much more. I start thinking fishing and I realize that I define my life by hurricanes and big catches. I’m salty and can’t help it.
When I crossed into Hyde County after a long stay in Ocracoke as part of the Emergency Operations Center for Hurricane Sandy, I couldn’t help but think of Hurricane Floyd in 1999.
I was workin in the college town of Greenville NC and unbeknownst to me, I would educate those folks on flood water. The water rose up in nasty puddles from the sewer grates a day after the storm. The sun was shining and it was the most surreal thing I’ve ever seen. I told everyone in my apartment complex that the puddles were getting bigger and something wasn’t right, but we continued with our hurricane party. You can’t argue with Pirates, so I didn’t.
The next day, I was boated out of my ground floor apartment with nothing but a paper bag of clothes and toiletries. My car was starting to float. Nevermind the shrimp and soft crabs I left behind in the freezer (that would smell almost as bad as the flood water!). I found some less-than-comfortable accomodations with different friends and my meals were limited.
Five days after the water rose, I finally found a route back to Hyde County. 500-year flood plain waters had inundated our coastal communities and transportation was seriously compromised. I borrowed a car from the Fletcher family (it was right next to my dad’s old yellow Stingray!) and started on my trek home. I navigated a home base path through the best coastal highways of NC. A 80-mile drive took 7 hours. I took back roads and even utilized a ferry path. The scenery was ravaged, but still nice to see.
When I crossed into the Hyde County line, I pulled over, got out of my borrowed car and laid in the flood-soaked grass and cried the biggest happy tears I’ve ever cried. I mean I bawled.
Coming home unscathed in the wake of Sandy, I remembered how it felt to be down on the ground in 1999. All these memories came rushing back, as did the tears.
I remembered I had a busted lip, I smelled like a dirty hippie and I’d had on the same clothes for days. My apartment was flooded, my car was flooded and my work place was flooded too. - not to mention all my belongings. I hadn’t eaten much for days and I was aching to see my family. It was nearly a week before I could get 80 miles to the sound side coast.
I will always remember that day as one of the happiest times I’ve ever felt. I was home!!
Vegetarian menus that day became a thing of the past for me. I was tickled to death to get to Swan Quarter Fire Department for the free pork barbecue dinner. I ate like it was my job and despite the fact I hadn’t eaten pork or red meat for five years, I didn’t get sick. I had missed that NC style barbecue! To this day, I know it doesn’t get much better than pulled pork with vinegar-based sauce prepared by volunteers that put in their time simply because they love their hometown.
Y’all can eat all the soy meat you want, but I stick with the conviction that if your ASS is hungry, your ASS is gonna eat and not be so peculiar about it. Being thankful for a hot meal is much more than the blessing at supper table.
I cried harder (not happy tears, either) that day when I saw my daddy’s gas station in the disastrous state it was in. I hurt even deeper when I saw my Pop (my WWII veteran and commercial fisherman grandfather) doing his best to clean up his 1901 Swan Quarter home where he and Mama Edith raised my mom and my aunts and uncles. His kitchen appliances had floated around in the kitchen. He’d even put them on blocks to avoid flood waters - despite what everyone said about Floyd being a hyped-up storm.
After many hugs from my community family and a belly full of homegrown pork barbecue, I rolled up my sleeves and grabbed Pop’s clam rake to wrangle up some hurricane debris. I still hadn’t had a shower, but I was home. Praise God! This salty lil country girl knew that the only thing to get us back together would be dirty, gritty elbow grease. And the only way it would work would be if we all chipped in. I was not above it. I was all about it.
To all you folks up north, my heart goes out to you. May you feel the spirit of community and know that when you’re down on the ground, it’s the prefect time to realize the many irreplaceable blessings you have.
My blessings are at home in the salty marsh of Hyde County. From my hurricane-ravaged home to yours, keep the faith and don’t give up. You’ll come out stronger, with a better sense of who you are, where you come from and what you love. I wouldn’t trade all this for the world.
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