The number thirteen
Melissa and Sandy
When you are waiting for a tropical storm to arrive, you get into a strange frame of mind. While you try to distract yourself from any thought of it, you find yourself pulled back in, entangled in a web of maps with cones and “spaghetti tracks,” YouTube reports, bulletins and press releases from every single government agency. Not to mention the stream of WhatsApp messages from all and sundry: “Stay safe,” we say.
Every now and then, you go outside and stare blankly at the sky. Clouds, and a slight breeze in the trees, take on added significance.
Today was warm, sunny and pleasant. No rain. Nothing threatening at all.
Now, I have never been a fan of numerology, but who knows…Maybe there’s something in it.
A social media post today pointed out that today was the 13th anniversary of another tropical storm - Sandy. It brought back vivid memories. I was attending a small environmental workshop, at a hotel about 3,000 feet up in the Blue Mountains, in a place named Mavis Bank. The hotel was covered in security grilles. We stayed overnight and I was in a cavernous room at the top of the building, decorated with various plastic items whose purpose I could not determine.
The room was damp and the bed was chilly. But the breakfast was excellent and substantial the next morning and the company was good, so I cheered up. Then we heard about the arrival of Tropical Storm Sandy, which was about to cross the island.
I found a few photographs of that experience in my blog - you can read more about it here. The folding, deep green hills grew closer and darker, and filled with white mist.
I decided I would go back to Kingston, and begged a ride down to the small town of Gordon Town, where my husband picked me up. I was relieved to be back in Kingston; my new friends in Mavis Bank (including Karin from Suriname!) who stayed on were marooned in that strange hotel throughout the storm, with no water and eventually, no electricity either.
That was Sandy, thirteen years ago. And now, Melissa is hovering some 200 miles away, and she is the thirteenth named storm of 2025.
Maybe the number thirteen is an unlucky number, after all.
Tropical storms and Hurricanes are not uncommon in the USA, but they usually dissipate before reaching the NYC area.
Sandy was an exception. My immediate neighborhood didn't get much damage, but the storm triggered a fire that destroyed more than 100 homes in the Breezy Point section of Queens. Elsewhere, power outages left people living in high-rise skyscrapers stranded without elevator service for days.
Hope nothing like that happens to you or those you care for. Stay safe! 🫂
I hope Melissa dies down.
I love those odd hotels in Jamaica. Those places you’ve mentioned were some of my favourites.