With empty parking lots at public places, that were formerly busy, at times, I feel like the main character in the movie “Omega Man.”
I’m referring to the one made in the seventies, starring Kirk Douglas. Or maybe it was Charlton Hesston? On second thought, it was Charlton Hesston.
So far, it hasn’t been that bad. There have been people out and about the neighborhood. This is a rural, sparsely populated area, so there’s been no encroachment of anyone’s private space.
Hope this health crisis doesn’t take too long, because I’m starting to be bored. Like being out among people more. What was I doing out and about? Had to visit the grocery to restock essentials.
There were not many people at our usual Sunday morning breakfast spot. “Are people panicked into staying home?” I asked the waitress. “Yes, it’s been very slow. Wait till you go to the grocery store.”
At our local biggest grocery mart, shelves were bare. No bread, except rye. I happened to like rye, so not a problem. My wife likes English muffins. No English muffins were available.
It was a continuing story of missing merchandise. No Polish sausages. No hot dogs. No bratwurst. No chicken. No hamburger. Hamburger buns were available. However, there were smoked sausages.
The toilet tissue shortage has been well publicized. Merchandise hoarding is similar to that before hurricanes and other disasters. Since schools are closed for about three weeks, it probably has something to do with parents contemplating being sheltered at home with their kids.
Some items were available with 100% mark-ups. There was no excuse for that. Plain and simple price gouging. There are two other major supermarkets nearby. Traditionally their prices were higher. Better to have merchandise for a few cents more, than nothing at all. At least gasoline prices were lower than they’ve been in recent history.
I sheltered inside most of the day. Waited for Hurricane Michael to pass through–for better or worse.
Clouds rotated counterclockwise from north to south. Verification of meteorologist’s predictions, that we were on the “safer” west side of the storm.
From a few early morning sprinkles, came heavy rain. What was yet to come?
This evening, the sun peeked out. It was not as bad as it could have been.
A sobering thought, because my good fortune, meant others weren’t as fortunate.
Television meteorologists struggled to stand, when Michael came ashore. Their tenacity, to cover the weather event, defied logic.
A few remnant, scud clouds, raced counterclockwise, in the evening sky. On the northeast horizon, an ominous cloud wall, left in a rush of madness.
I’ve not been on WP until this evening.
This has been my day to be silent.
Didn’t care to read about personal agendas in response to the recent Las Vegas tragedy.
Let those affected grieve in their own ways.
Will this country ever be united for the good of all concerned? Instead of making political hay at every opportunity?
Life at its worst
Life at its best
It’s still life
Life at its worst
Life at its best
It was still life
Country Classic Cars, popped up from the corn fields near Staunton, Illinois. With an eclectic collection of cars and trucks from yesteryear. Interstate 55 passed by on one side, and old highway 66 on the back side.
The business is a tangled mess of burned out cars and twisted metal from a massive fire a day ago. Between 150 and 180 collectible vehicles were destroyed–inventory has yet to be completed.
Rubberneckers gawked, myself included, as they passed by on I-55. There was a Desoto sedan just like your Uncle Nick and Aunt Martha’s with tail fins. I perused their website on a regular basis after moving from the area.
Their cars were affordable. Some fancy, most were just regular, common cars like our parents, grandparents drove. The business owner rented period cars out for movie productions.
Where else could one see such a smattering of automotive history, from the twenties through the eighties? Hopefully they will stay in business. It’s reported there were a total of 650 vehicles. This will put a dent in the business for some time to come.
Nothing’s worse than a hurricane evacuation. The worst traffic tie-ups known to mankind. People have had their cars run out of gas in gridlock. It’s a gut-wrenching decision.
Some with expensive whole-house generators and storm shutters, view it as a challenge. Dueling with Mother Nature–nature always wins in a full-bore onslaught. It’s a high stakes, crap shoot. When away, hurricane news coverage reinforces the tension of not knowing whether one’s home survived or not.
I’ve been on both sides of the issue. Once, because of my own ineptitude, and lack of adequate advance planning. That was during daylight hours. Everything seems worse at night–when wind howls, rafters crack and pop under the strain. If there’s a choice, I don’t intend to ride out another hurricane.
There are far worse problems–namely the thousands of homeless Louisiana flood victims. The South, will, once again, take care of its own.
Memories of hurricanes Ivan, Katrina, and the oil spill are still fresh.
Closer to home–why does WP keep defaulting back to the old editing page? This has gone on for the last two weeks.
Far be it from me to complain. I wouldn’t complain–if there weren’t things to complain about!
A macabre, blackened skeleton
Emerged, from morning fog
Attached to a tow rope
Masts, rigging–burned to stubs
Blue and white-trimmed hull
Dull, soot-covered and stained
The gleam in her eye, long gone
Left anchored, to burn out at sea
Captain and crew–abandoned ship
Fire gutted her heart and soul
No tears, only memories
This lovely lady, sailed no more