Hurricane Irene and Poppa Sye.

Blissfully sleeping within the confines of my ever-so cozy oasis, a strange yet familiar ringing woke me up. I sprung out of bed, wiped the crust from my eyes, and blinked myself into consciousness.

Who the hell is ringing my doorbell at 8am on a Saturday morning? I wondered. I peered out my bedroom window and saw my neighbor Ira standing there. I grabbed my robe, and raced down the stairs.

Flinging open the front door, I exclaimed, “What’s going on?”

“Is your grandfather okay?” Ira inquired.

“Yeah, what do you mean is Poppa Sye okay? He’s in his bedroom watching the news.” I said, still half-asleep.

Ira sighed, “Well apparently your grandfather has already called the Police, The Fire Department, and you parents, several times, because of the hurricane.”

“What!?”

Yet, there wasn’t even a cloud in the sky, much less a drop of rain.

Ira told me about the phone conversation he had with my parents. He explained how my grandfather was completely freaking out. And at that moment I knew it was going to be a very long day ahead of me. Poppa Sye is famous for being paranoid, over nothing. But now that he had a legitimate reason to worry? You can bet your bottom dollar he went into full-blown-panic-attack-mode.

After Ira left, I went to ask Poppa Sye what’s going on.

I knocked on his bedroom door and waited for him to answer.

“Poppa Sye, can I come in?”

“Yes, dear.” He replied in a weak little voice.

I stood in the doorway, “Can I ask you a question?”

He sat up in his bed, “Yes, dear.”

“Why did you call the police?”

“I didn’t call the police.” Poppa Sye lied.

* Poppa Sye is also famous for lying.

So I rephrased the question.

“What did you ask the police when you called them?”

“Well, I just asked if they had any suggestions about the hurricane.” He admitted.

“Okay, well, just so you know, you’re not supposed to call the Police or the Fire Department unless it’s an actual life or death situation. The township called everyone yesterday specifically for that reason.”

“Yes, dear.”

“You’re not going to call the Police or the Fire Department anymore, right?”

Poppa Sye nodded, “Right.”

“Promise?”

He started laughing, “Yes.”

I gave him my stern look and said, “Okay” before going back to bed.

An hour later, I heard all kinds of noise coming from downstairs. It sounded like we were having another earthquake. Once again, I sprung up out of bed, wiped the crust from my eyes, and blinked myself back into consciousness.

I ran down the flight of stairs, thinking there was an intruder, only to see Poppa Sye desperately trying to re-arrange the furniture. Mind you, he’s 91 years old, and he’s incredibly frail. He can barely lift a coffee mug, let alone lift a lamp.

When I saw him struggling to move a plate, I took matters into my own hands and agreed to help him ‘Prepare The House’.

Poppa Sye was determined to get everything away from the windows, because as far as he was concerned all of the glass in the house would shatter. So we moved the knick-knacks from the windowsills to middle of a coffee table. After his remodeling, the family room looked as if it had been hit by ‘Hurricane Sye’.

And I thought that was going to be the end of it.

But I was wrong.

As the day progressed, Poppa Sye watched constant coverage of ‘Hurricane Irene’, blasting the television so loudly; the sound literally ricocheted off the hallway walls. And the more news he watched, the more he became riddled with anxiety.

Whenever there was a commercial break, Poppa Sye would come downstairs and to perform a mental sweep of things, while walking laps around the house. He paced nervously, clenching his jaw, and wringing his hands together.

“Mel”… He called to me.

“Yes, Poppa Sye?”

He collected his thought and asked, “What are we going to do when they shut off the water?”

“Who is going to shut off the water?”

“We aren’t going to have any water.” Poppa Sye reiterated.

“Okay, I think we are going to be fine, but would you like for me to fill up the parents bathtub. Just in case?”

I could see the fear in his pale, blue, cataract-covered eyes, “Yes. Please.”

I was more than happy to oblige.

Another hour later, the rain started and the winds began to intensify. Poppa Sye came back downstairs for one of his pace-around-the-house-checking-on-things, maneuvers. After making a full-lap around the house, Poppa Sye stood in the living room doorway staring at me.

“Melee…”

“Yeah, Poppa Sye…” I looked back at him.

“Do you have a flashlight?”

“Yes, grandpa, it’s right here.” I held it up to show it to him.

“Do you think we have enough candles?”

“Yes. Absolutely. They are lined up on the kitchen counter like soldiers ready to deploy for combat.”

Poppa Sye, walked away and proceeded to go to the back door. He opened it, and much to my surprise, he went outside. At this point it was pouring sideways. I chased after him.

“Poppa Sye!” I shouted, “What the hell are you doing out here! Get back inside, now!”

“I need to check on this furniture.” He firmly stated.

“It’s all tied down. And it’s heavy. It’s not going anywhere.”

But he didn’t believe me.

Nope.

Instead, he fussed with the blue rope, tugging the strings as tight as he could.

Later that evening, when it started to get dark outside Poppa Sye became quite fixated with one window in particular. He was absolutely certain if any window in the house would break, it would be this one.

No matter what I said to him, he refused to stop obsessing.

Thanks to my friend Leslie, I handed him some masking tape to secure the window, in an attempt to help him relax.

Here’s another thing about Poppa Sye you may, or may not, already know. He’s completely blind in one eye, and he can barley see out of his other eye. And, ever since his stroke, he does NOT have good balance. In fact, he tends to fall down. A lot. Plus, he refuses to turn ON any lights.

The thought of him walking up and down the hallway, or the going up and down the stairs, IN THE DARK, was enough to make me a nervous-wreck. Because while he spent the entire day concerned about the hurricane, I spent the entire day imagining him taking a spill down the stairs, careening wildly out of control, and cracking open his skull.

I invited him to, “Please watch a movie with me downstairs on the sofa?” I thought if I could keep him in one spot, and get his mind off the news maybe we’d BOTH be able to calm down.

And here’s how that worked out.

Not more than three seconds into the movie, Poppa Sye squirmed on the sofa, noticeably anxious. Rocking back and forth while tapping his metal cane on the floor. I knew exactly what he wanted.

“Do you want me to put on the news?” I asked.

“Yes. Let’s just check.”

Now, I had also spent my entire day avoiding the news, because I cannot stand the hyperbole. However, I did not want Poppa Sye to make yet another trip upstairs. And by this time the winds and rain had really picked up. Out of sheer curiosity I agreed to put on The Weather Channel.

That was my first mistake.

As I watched in horror, Poppa Sye kept telling me why we needed to stay away from the windows. He talked about living in Florida through other hurricanes, and exactly how damaging the winds could be. He carried on and on about possible dangers.

And I started to believe him.

That was my second mistake.

Somehow, Poppa Sye managed to project and transfer all of his irrational fears onto me.

“Do we have any wood in the garage to cover a broken window?” He asked.

“Um…” I paused, “No. I don’t think so.”

Poppa Sye’s voice cracked, “What are we going to use to fix the window if it breaks.” His white hair, turned even whiter. “Maybe we should have bought some plywood to board up the windows.”

“I have no idea. I guess I should ask Ira?” Suddenly, feeling very unprepared for the impending disaster, I unleashed my very own brand of anxiety. The very anxiety I had been suppressing all day.

Maybe Poppa Sye is right? Maybe he does know what he’s talking about?  Maybe I shouldn’t have dismissed his concerns as being overly paranoid?  Maybe the cast iron chairs outside really are going to blow through the windows, and crush us to death!  Maybe my mom’s copper weathervane from the garden could fly through the house and decapitate one of us!  Maybe the roof of the house will get ripped off from the 85 MPH winds, or the trees will come crashing down upon us!  Maybe the power, and water will be shut off for days, and we will be stranded here, starving, dehydrated, and filthy. Goddamn it, I knew I should have bought some vodka! And, HOLY SHIT I’VE NEVER BEEN IN A HURRICANE. AND NOW THE NEW SAYS WE HAVE A TORNADO WATCH/WARNING TOO? JESUS H. CHRIST! WE’RE ALL GUNNA DIE!

I mentally tried to talk myself off the proverbial edge, to no avail.

Fortunately, we still had electricity and phone service, so I called my brother. I left Poppa Sye alone on the sofa and went into the garage to have a private conversation with Abercrombie.

And here’s how that went:

“Grandpa is a nervous wreck. Which was cute at first, but now that I hear the wind, and now that I’ve watched the news, HIS anxiety is giving ME anxiety. And now I am freaking out because he keeps going up and down the stairs, and he won’t sit still. And he keeps checking everything, and he wants to hide out in the garage, but this door isn’t very sturdy. And what if the power goes out and he falls down, and what if the phone lines don’t work, and I can’t call 911. And what if he’s bleeding to death on the floor, but the big tree’s are ripped from their roots and block the roads so the Emergency Vehicles can’t get to us. And what is with this tornado watch, isn’t it enough we are in the middle of a hurricane……?”

My brother quickly interrupted my insanity, “Calm, down.”

I took a deep breath, and lit up a cool menthol Newport 100.

Then my brother reminded me how to ‘find the funny’ in what Poppa Sye was going through by taking photos and texting them to him.

And thankfully that helped. A lot.

Poppa Sye and I retreated to our respective bedrooms around midnight. And we both kept our doors WIDE OPEN. I made him *pinky swear* that if the power went out, he would NOT attempt to travel downstairs, under any circumstances, without me.

But, I didn’t trust him.

So, I spent the duration of the evening listening to him.

And playing ‘Words With Friends’ on my iPhone trying to distract myself from the creepy howling sounds from the wind, and the freakishly pelting sounds from the rain.

I didn’t sleep very well, if I slept at all.

Every time I heard a strange noise I had a mini-heart-attack.

And while WE managed to escape ‘Hurricane Irene’ virtually unscathed, I can’t say the same for the rest of New Jersey.

Here is a picture of Hightstown NJ, leading into Route 33, located all of ten minutes from my house.

And here is the devastation Jamesburg NJ is suffering.

Another town, less than 15 minutes from my house.

And this photo, is in my actual home town.

Oh hello, Main Street.

So, tell me boys and girls….

Have you ever been through a hurricane/tornado/life-threatening-weather-condition?

And if so, please tell me about it.