Page 58 of The Night the Lights Went Out
Written by: Your Neighbor
Installment #7: Preparing for the End of the World: Snow
Did you all know that this month is National Preparedness Month? There seems to be a month for everything now: National Physical Fitness and Sports Month, Colorectal Cancer Awareness Month, Teen Dating Violence Awareness Month, National Childhood Obesity Awareness Month, National Safety Month. I could go on and on until my calendar was so filled with reminders that there would be no room to put doctors’ appointments or friends’ birthdays—the two things that are pretty much the cure-all for most of what ails us.
Shouldn’t we always be aware of society’s issues so that we can look for solutions? Or maybe we do need to be reminded because most of us are getting our news from Facebook these days instead of a legitimate newspaper written by real journalists.
I’m not saying the attempt to bring people’s attention to these worthwhile issues isn’t important. I’m just thinking that perhaps the overabundance of them might make people pay less attention—and our attention spans are pretty short already. Or that perhaps the sheer quantity of issues might lessen their importance. Like that high school in a neighboring county that I shall not name that appointed twelve valedictorians because they didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings by selecting just one. What’s one standout when there are eleven “good enoughs”?
Which brings me to my next (loosely related) topic. A group of women—presumably mothers since it was right after school drop-off—sitting next to me in the local coffee shop last week were talking about millennials and how the world will certainly end when they’re old enough to take over and run things. One woman joked that the easiest way to confuse a millennial was to show them a first-place trophy.
I wanted to turn around and ask them if they’d ever rushed back to their child’s school to bring PE shoes or a forgotten homework assignment. Or if they’d ever stepped in to finish a science project because their child had left it until the last minute and was worried about getting a lower grade because it was late. Because a sense of entitlement and a lack of responsibility dont’t just happen by accident. They are taught. Just something to think about.
Back to National Preparedness Month. Did you know that FEMA has an app for this? There really is an app for everything. They pretty much have it covered, so I don’t need to elaborate. But I do have a request to my fellow Sweet Appletonians: Be prepared for snow. No, we probably won’t have another storm like we had a couple of winters ago during Snowmageddon, when people were stranded on I-285 overnight and we became the laughingstock of the country.
Do yourselves a favor and head to Costco now and buy lots of kitty litter and extra blankets to throw in your car. Maybe even a snow shovel or two if you can find them. It makes no sense for the city of Atlanta and its environs to buy more snow-removal equipment for an event that rarely happens more than once a decade, so don’t look to the government to help you out here. Go ahead and have a good supply of bread in your freezer and bottled water in your garage so you can beat the rush to Kroger when the first flurry signals the end is near.
My hat is off to our northern transplants, who actually know how to drive in snow. It’s the locals who seem to muck it up by doing things like stopping on the upside of a hill or braking too hard. I would suggest heading to Colorado in January and taking a driving class, or make a promise not to get behind the wheel of your SUV if there is so much as a snowflake in the sky. Hopefully the mayors of Atlanta and Sweet Apple have learned their lesson from the last snowstorm and know not to close all businesses and schools at the same time, thus orchestrating the biggest hot mess any of us have ever seen on the roadways. So do your duty and be prepared. And for heaven’s sake, if you see what we Southerners refer to as “the devil’s dandruff” falling from the sky, stay home.
October is also Breast Cancer Awareness Month (don’t forget to schedule your mammogram and do your self-exam), in addition to being the month of the fall gala at several of our local schools. Time for moms to remember their prom days and wear pretty dresses and high heels, and for their husbands to be forced into tuxedos.
Overheard in the same coffee shop were several planning meetings for various school galas. One event is being held in the school gym, one in a tent on the school’s football field, and one on the lawn of a grand Lake Lanier estate, fully catered (no home-brought chafing dishes for this school fund-raiser!) and under a rental tent that was actually used at a wedding for one of the “stars” (quotation marks intentional) ofReal Housewives of Atlanta. I choked on my coffee when I heard the rental fee.
I couldn’t help but wonder if it might be more efficient for the attendees to simply donate the money to the school instead of spending the money up front in the hope that people would donate it back. Am I missing something? Of course, that’s no fun, and I do appreciate dressing up and having a good time as much as the rest of you. But I also don’t mind making a batch of shrimp and grits to bring to an event to keep down costs.
All this planning, and meetings, and discussions—it all brings me to today’s Southern saying: “It’s fixin’ to come up a bad cloud.” Sometimes it’s easy to see when a storm is brewing. The clouds lie low and angry, the heavens rumble, and flashes of lightning streak across the sky. You don’t need to be a weatherman—or weatherperson—to know a storm is brewing.
It’s the subtle signs that most of us miss. A drop in air pressure. A breeze that springs out of nowhere. A friend who starts acting differently. Unreturned phone calls. An invitation that never arrives. There are all kinds of storms in life you need to watch out for. The next time you suspect something is unsettled in the atmosphere, either high above or right around you, just say, “It’s fixin’ to come up a bad cloud.” And then take cover.
• • •
MERILEE
“Go, Cavaliers!”
Bailey Blackford did an effortless split in front of the line of cheerleaders, holding her pom-poms up in a V. Merilee adjusted herself again on the hard metal bleachers at the football field, watching the end of the girls’ practice with other mothers. Several clutched pumpkin spice lattes, which had recently appeared on the menu at Starbucks, while others had giant-sized tumblers of iced water. Of course, it could have been vodka and Merilee wouldn’t have judged. She could use a stiff drink herself.
She restrained herself from checking her watch. Lily’s tennis team practice was directly after this, and Merilee had to somehow manage to drive Lily across town in rush-hour traffic, pick up dinner at whatever drive-through they passed, and then be back at the rec center to pick up Colin from flag football practice. All in half an hour.
She slid an envious glance over at Claire, Heather’s assistant, sitting nearby and looking calm and relaxed because all she had to do was take Bailey to tennis. The thought had occurred to Merilee to ask Heather if it might be possible for Lily to ride with them, but then she’d have to worry about Lily not eating (she knew Bailey would have a nutritious meal packed by Patricia waiting for her in a cooler), thereby letting Heather know that she actuallydidn’thave it all together despite what Heather kept telling her. If she did, she would have a nicely prepared dinner for her daughter, probably tied with neat blue and orange ribbons to show her team support. And a note of encouragement tucked inside. Because that’s what Heather would have done. Or had one of her minions do for her.
But Heather hadn’t had a horrendous day at the office and been stuck in a traffic jam that ate up forty-five valuable minutes on her way to watch Lily’s practice. Lily had sent her a disappointed glance as Merilee attempted to find a spot on the bleachers that wasn’t already taken by the other mothers watching their daughters. She’d found a place separated from the other mothers by a turn of the bleachers and sat down next to Lindi Matthews. Lindi wore a suit and heels, leading Merilee to believe that she’d also come straight from work and arrived long after the other mothers had already hunkered down in the prized front-and-center seats.
“Go, Jenna!” shouted Lindi as her daughter did back handsprings down the field.
“Wow,” Merilee said. “You didn’t tell me she was such a gymnast.”
Lindi smiled proudly. “She’s been working on those handsprings all summer. She didn’t tell me, but I think she really wanted to be on the squad and this was her way in.” She leaned over conspiratorially and whispered, “She’s not the most coordinated in the clapping routines and such, but she can do flips and handsprings with the best of them.” Sitting up, she added, “And because she’s so small, she’s perfect for the tops of the pyramids.”
“Good for her,” Merilee said, meaning it. She remembered how Bailey and the other girls had ignored Jenna at the lake house party before school had started.
“Heather asked me where she goes for gymnastics, and I’m pretty sure she thought I was lying when I told her the Y. They have great classes there for kids—and they’re cheap. I have a feeling Heather was prepared to hire a personal coach for Bailey.”
Merilee said, “She hired a tennis coach for Bailey and asked if Lily would also like to be coached. When I told her I couldn’t afford it, she said she was paying the coach for the hour anyway, and it would help Bailey to have a strong partner during the lesson. So I agreed.”
Lindi nodded. “She can be generous. And she’s always so put together. If she weren’t always so nice, it would be easy to hate her.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, it must be hard to stay gorgeous and perfect at all times. But she probably does wake up like that.” Merilee grimaced. “Actually, I know she does. She’s forced me to be on Facebook and she’s my only friend on there, so I get to see all her selfies—of which there are a lot. There are several of her waking up in her various houses, and she looks better in all of them than I probably will the night of the gala after having actually spent lots of time and effort on my face and hair.”
