Waiting for Rita

My wife and I lived in a small apartment when we first got married over 15 years ago. After a year of apartment living — noisy (and nosy) neighbors, parking space problems, traffic jams to and from work — we decided to buy a house.

We bought our home in late 1991, moving in four days before years’ end. We sunk every penny we both had in our 401(k)s to buy it. It was a small house, just for the two of us. We figured that once we had kids we’d be more than likely to buy another one. (Didn’t happen.) In any event, eight months after we bought our house, and having already experienced the joys of homeownership with a busted water pipe in the house and bad electrical wiring, a little visitor came around in that year of 1992 by the name of Hurricane Andrew.

Needless to say we were grossly inexperienced in the art of hurricane preparedness. I’ll never forget the night of August 22, 1992 when the hurricane warnings were issued for Miami-Dade (then Dade) County. We looked at each other and calmly decided that we had to do whatever it took to protect the house. At 5 AM the morning of the 23rd we were in a line a local lumber shop to buy bolts, plywood, masonry bits, and other sundries, to prepare us for the arrival of a storm that would make history. We boarded up, suffered some roof damage and flooding, and felt immensely fortunate not to have been living further south of where we were.

I pray that Rita passes South Florida and the Keys with minimal damage — please, Lord, let us keep our electricity a little longer this time — and wish all of you Babalú readers in the South Florida area, Godspeed. Tighten those wing nuts well!

Testimonio de George Moneo en Babalu Blog. Impresionante!