Reading this Katrina weblog entry reminded me that Hurricane Andrew in 1992 was one of only three category 5 hurricanes to make landfall in the U.S. in the last century.
My wife M.C. Moewe covered that monster storm for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram. She interrupted a Disney World vacation with her parents, driving to South Florida in time to experience the eyewall passing overhead in the company of local police. For most of the three-hour trip, her car was the only one heading south.
Covering the story was my suggestion. Back in Fort Worth, I told her Andrew was becoming humongous and she'd be asked to report on it if she told her editors where she was. Her mother was not happy about my idea, as I learned the next time we met. I am fortunate that she is not predisposed to violence.
I didn't know anything about hurricanes at the time, having lived my entire life in the Dallas/Fort Worth Metromess. Now that I'm an eight-year Floridian, I am known for premature evacuation. I was the first person to leave for Hurricane Frances last year, taking off 24 hours before TV news channels began covering the exodus, and I went one state more northward than anyone else.
In retrospect, sending the future mother of my children into this wasn't the best idea I've ever had.
"...In retrospect, sending the future mother of my children into this wasn't the best idea I've ever had..."
One should hold such acts in reserve, say until the second decade of wedded bliss.