[Exsubmariner]

I grew up on the gulf coast.

There were occasionally hurricanes. I have memories of them. Mainly not the storms themselves, but more about my father. My father worked for a utility company. When storms would come, he would have duty, repairing down power lines and the like.

I remember my house and the feeling of safety that came from living in it. My father found the best built brick house he could buy. He then reinforced it with storm windows. During the storms, I would stand in front of the big sliding glass door and watch the winds tear through my back yard. I would watch the pine trees bend double, and then, when the eye passed, bend double the other way. All my siblings and my mother gathered there in the great room and watched out that reinforced glass door at the mayhem outside and were perfectly safe.

My father was wise enough that even in his absence, his family was looked after. I remember after one storm, the power was out for days. My father once cooked eggs for breakfast in the fireplace. I remember him gingerly reaching his hand wrapped in a towel over the bed of hot coals to flip the eggs in a metal skillet. I was perfectly safe and happy, despite the rest of the world.

I had a neighbor who used to say that there was always a beautiful day after a bad storm. For me, this is still true today.