vv 9-21

The Great Man - Woman Hurricane Divide
By: Vicki Wentz / Vicki’s Voice
By the time you read this, Hurricane Henri
will have passed and, I hope, left everyone
as unscathed as possible. But, even here in the
mountains, we’re expecting something like 3-47
inches of rain, so I can imagine the concern right now.
The weather folks have predicted it could impact anywhere from
Florida on up, so folks are worried - except the men.
I surely don’t mean to be sexist or anything, but it reminds me that
when it comes to “riding out the storm” (and, if we’re going to be
honest, lots of other perplexing behavior) men are, generally speaking,
chowderheads.
If you turn on the TV in the days preceding a hurricane, as the dire
warnings and predictions ramped up, you mostly see video of young
dudes out surfing the waves as they roll in bigger and rougher until
some fool falls off and looks a bit like he’s freakin’ drowning, at which
point the lifeguard dudes ride out on jet skis to rescue him...so he can
get right back on his surfboard.
Now, I’m willing to give them a little leeway on going out there
initially. I understand the call of the waves as you shoot the perfect
curl...or something.
It’s the going back out there after they pump several fathoms of
seawater out of you that’s just a little…well…stunningly stupid.
When these storms approach, you’ll see video of people boarding up
their beach houses...tough, stubborn he-men, shirts off, nails in their
mouths, electric drills in their all-too-capable hands, fist-bumping as
they pass each other with self-satisfied grunts that seem to say, “We got
this. No sweat. Time for a brewski.”
But, you will also see, in the background, all the wives racing intently
from house to car, carrying the last bags, children and dogs, shooting
withering and disgusted glances over their shoulders at their he-men,
and then, in some cases, driving off without them - leaving nothing in
Serving Las Vegas for over 45 years!
their wake but the occasional one-fingered au revoir.
I saw one man, Earl Something, about 80 years old, interviewed
while sitting calmly in his house as others boarded it up, declaring that
he’d ridden out many a storm and never left, and this one wasn’t going
to make him leave, either. He stated his wife of 60 years wanted him to
go with her to her sister’s, but no siree, he wasn’t going to do it.
After 60 years of this, I almost expected to see the wife walk in with a
shotgun pointed at her husband, and say through clenched teeth, “Get
your ass in the car, Earl - I ain’t playin’ with you this time!”
Meanwhile, you always see female reporters (who are few and far
between, having mostly female sense) dressed appropriately and
holding on to trees, porch columns, or mailboxes. The male reporters
are in shorts and tee shirts, demonstrating, “Dude, I can lean into the
wind, and it will totally hold me up!”
My son lived in Wilmington, North Carolina during college, which
is about 8 seconds from the Atlantic Ocean. I would start prepping him
days ahead of any storms about coming home before it arrived.
One such evening, I called to see if he was on his way, as he was under
a mandatory evacuation, and reports were showing huge winds and
driving rain starting in Wilmington. Nope.
He was making dinner, and while he had me on the phone, he wanted
to know if there was any difference between rice and orzo.
While I sputtered incoherently, he said “yeah, it was raining hard
and the lights kept flickering, big deal, it’s just a storm, and gas prices
were too high to come home” so back to the rice vs. orzo question.
I calmly wished him well, hung up and called the Wilmington police
to report a possible burglary in progress at his address, by a man who
may be cooking orzo. A jail cell has to be pretty hurricane-proof, don’t
you think?
Vicki Wentz is a writer, teacher and speaker living in North
Carolina. Readers may contact her - and order her new children’s
book! - by visiting her website at www.vickiwentz.com.
38
September 2021