I’ve never been much of a spiritual person, but if there is any kind of shamanistic connection with weather, I’m one with hurricanes.
A hurricane is directly responsible for my spawn. My parents knew each other in high school–they were friends, but little more. The setting is Biloxi, Mississippi, 1969. Hurricane Camille comes ashore. They really haven’t elaborated much on the events following the storm, but my grandfather (mom’s side) had an artesian well. Since there was no power, artesian wells were really important. My mom’s family provided water to many people after the storm came ashore, including my dad’s family. Things kind of took off from there.
In my first two weeks of life, my family was chased from our home in Cocoa Beach, FL due to a hurricane. My parents evacuated back to Biloxi. While in Biloxi, I was baptized. Shortly thereafter, however, we were chased back to Florida by yet another hurricane.
But today, whenever a hurricane is coming, I can feel it with all my being. I’ve mentioned that my joints ache. My sinuses hurt. My pulse races at times, yet I’m amazingly calm otherwise. I’ve mentioned that I get, well, horny. I mean really bad. Other things go on. I just have these feelings. In the past few years, as I’ve dealt with more hurricanes, I’ve learned to rely the sensations I’m getting. I’m inclined to think you folks in Florida are going to get some, but not the brunt of the storm.
I’m feeling that the storm is about four days out from here. Somewhere on the Southern North Carolina coast. This is not at all good. Not good at all. But no matter where it comes ashore, I feel something is going to happen here. I’m not excited about it. But I’ll be on the air keeping people safe, and that makes me feel better about it. We’ve just dealt with Dennis, and soon Floyd. Those of us, the generic announcers, we don’t get a lot of credit for what we do. But I can assure you we care. From this broadcaster, to all of you threatened by Floyd, be safe.