Stormy memories

Summer: It's always such a bittersweet time of year in south #Florida. I grew up here. My parents moved to #Miami in 1959, and I've never lived anywhere else. As such, I've been in more hurricanes than I can remember. It's a weird time of year; every June 1st, we sigh and say, "here we go again", we start checking the National Hurricane Center's website every morning, making sure we have batteries, a week's supply of bottled water, and a working generator. In case we forget about what time of year it is, the afternoon thunderstorms of late July and August, with their fierce, pounding rain, remind us that the tropics can get stirred up and untrack our lives any day. Back in 1965, Hurricane Betsy brought major flooding to Dade County. Our close family friends lived in Coral Gables, a short walk from Biscayne Bay. Their house was a storm haven: built up on an elevated corner, and powered with all gas appliances. The adults stayed up all night playing poker and drinking without a worry about the food in the fridge. After the fury of Betsy was over, we stepped out onto the front stoop and saw the rest of the neighborhood underwater, with some residents sitting on their roofs as the National Guard came by in amphibious vehicles to rescue them. At our place, the water lapped at the front door, but never got inside. My mom's 1964 Rambler wasn't so lucky. We endured several hurricanes there in the 60's. Then came #Andrew in 1992, which shredded the community into an unrecognizable disaster zone with 165-mph winds. We didn't have storm shutters at my house in #Suniland---few people did then--so the eastern part of the house was totaled. We didn't get hurt, and my boys--then 7 and 4 years old, had fun playing in a plastic pool in the front yard while we cooked on a gas grill. We had no electricity for three weeks, and it was quite a learning experience for everyone.

Summer's not all bad, The beauty of the poinciana trees festoon Miami streets with brilliant shades of red and orange, and delicious mangos and lychees are hanging everywhere (but you have to get 'em before the picking season is over!). Summer and hurricane season, with it's heat, humidity, beauty, and sumptuous fruit, is more like an old friend--annoying at times, but consistent and dependable, lovable in its own unique way. It's our "change of season", the only one we get. I suppose that rather than complain, I should be happy I've been able to have sixty-six of them so far.