After nearly a week of high winds and higher amounts of rain, it looks like Fay is finally moving on. For those unfamiliar with tropical storms or cyclones, this one has actually been worse than a hurricane. While the winds topped out around 50 mph/80 kph with gusts to 70 mph/113 kph, it's the days of heavy rain that have done the most damage.
I sit between a pond and a lake. After days of rain averaging 3-6 inches/8-15cm per day, they're over their banks and into people's yards. Fortunately, my property is the highest and remains relatively dry. I have a few large branches down in the yard from neighbor's trees, but that's the worst of it.
The storm isn't over for northeast Florida for another day or so, but the worst of it has passed except for the flooding. The St Johns river is already to the top of the bulkheads downtown. With high tide, there's no place for the water to go except into the surrounding neighborhoods.
Anyone who wants to access the local news can do so at http://www.firstcoastnews.com/ and click on the local news and weather radar.
I've treated this storm like a mini vacation. With few incoming phone calls and hours of isolation due to the need to remain indoors, I've caught up on sleep and enjoyed the enforced peace. Tomorrow things will return to normal and the world will be upon me again.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
A lesson in gratitude
The recent dearth of posts results, in part, from a plumbing disaster that took out the flooring and a few walls in five rooms of my home. While upsetting, I found the reactions of others enlightening.
After my initial dismay and anger, I am very grateful that I have a home and insurance that covers most of the loss. I have friends who lost everything in wars or disasters with no insurance; at least one came to this country with a large suitcase and $200 in his pocket to start a new life. Nor is this my first loss. The home I grew up in no longer stands. The house where I spent many summers as a child is gone.
Yet many people seemed surprised by the equanimity I showed over the loss of things. Of objects. "How terrible," they tell me. "I would be so upset." Yet others seem shattered on my behalf. "It must be a horrible shock. How can you make decisions so easily? Your whole house will be so different."
I'd prefer not to be sleeping on a bed shorter than I am, true. Yet I have a spare bed. How many people in this world sleep every night of their life in far worse? My house will be torn up for awhile. I am somewhat inconvenienced. Yet no bombs are falling. I'll be able to rebuild, perhaps even improve what was there, given cash and vision.
What happened here was an irritant. An annoyance. A minor discomfort at a time when tanks are rolling, bullets flying and bombs falling in other parts of the world. When the news is once again filled with elderly standing in the rubble with no one left to care for them, or the remnants of families trudging down dusty roads while politicians stand in front of monitors squabbling over boundaries and labels.
What was lost were things. Objects. Replaceable. Luxuries for much of the world.
No one was hurt. I give greatest thanks for that. Life is irreplaceable. The rest are simply blessings showered on me more from a fortunate accident of birth in a rich country, than anything I've ever done. Events such as this simply remind me to be thankful for what I have and to keep things in perspective.
I have a lot to be thankful for. Given enough tea and time, I've managed to reach sufficient perspective to be thankful for this reminder to be grateful.
The next time you or someone else says, "It was the worst day of my life!" stop and think. Was it? Was it really? Or was it an opportunity to put your life in perspective and contemplate something bigger than yourself?
After my initial dismay and anger, I am very grateful that I have a home and insurance that covers most of the loss. I have friends who lost everything in wars or disasters with no insurance; at least one came to this country with a large suitcase and $200 in his pocket to start a new life. Nor is this my first loss. The home I grew up in no longer stands. The house where I spent many summers as a child is gone.
Yet many people seemed surprised by the equanimity I showed over the loss of things. Of objects. "How terrible," they tell me. "I would be so upset." Yet others seem shattered on my behalf. "It must be a horrible shock. How can you make decisions so easily? Your whole house will be so different."
I'd prefer not to be sleeping on a bed shorter than I am, true. Yet I have a spare bed. How many people in this world sleep every night of their life in far worse? My house will be torn up for awhile. I am somewhat inconvenienced. Yet no bombs are falling. I'll be able to rebuild, perhaps even improve what was there, given cash and vision.
What happened here was an irritant. An annoyance. A minor discomfort at a time when tanks are rolling, bullets flying and bombs falling in other parts of the world. When the news is once again filled with elderly standing in the rubble with no one left to care for them, or the remnants of families trudging down dusty roads while politicians stand in front of monitors squabbling over boundaries and labels.
What was lost were things. Objects. Replaceable. Luxuries for much of the world.
No one was hurt. I give greatest thanks for that. Life is irreplaceable. The rest are simply blessings showered on me more from a fortunate accident of birth in a rich country, than anything I've ever done. Events such as this simply remind me to be thankful for what I have and to keep things in perspective.
I have a lot to be thankful for. Given enough tea and time, I've managed to reach sufficient perspective to be thankful for this reminder to be grateful.
The next time you or someone else says, "It was the worst day of my life!" stop and think. Was it? Was it really? Or was it an opportunity to put your life in perspective and contemplate something bigger than yourself?
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