We got up early and turned on the TV for an update about the location of Hurricane Hugo. The summer had ended with Labor Day, and the vacationers had spent their last days baking in the sun and were getting off the Island before the hurricane hit. Monica, our meteorologist, reported that Hurricane Hugo was out there heading toward Tybee Island. The hurricane threats started in August, but the Georgia Barrier Island had not been hit with a major hurricane since the late 1800s. The geographical position of the Georgia coastline has been a blessing in the past.
When the telephone rang, I knew it was Joe. He called from the hospital where he was recovering from emergency back surgery. Like everyone he was concerned about the hurricane. Dr. Merck refused to release him; he wanted to be with us during the threat of disaster. Together we made a list of what the children and I needed to get ready for the worst. Persuading Aunt Judy to leave her cottage on Tybee and evacuate with us, would be my greatest challenge. If Hugo hit, Savannah would not be a safe place; we would have to go to Claxton. We live on White Marsh Island, and our evacuation time was late afternoon. Hugo was supposed to reach our coast that night. Joe had plywood cut and ready to cover the windows; We decided Mark, our sixteen-year-old son, would have the responsibility of putting it up, and I would take Jenny, our daughter, and Fifi, our toy poodle, with me to pick-up Aunt Judy.
It was a beautiful day for the short drive. The sun was shining, the breeze was calm, and the only sounds were from the hammering of nails in plywood as people prepared for the worst. We turned on to highway 80, the beach road. Palm trees and pink blooming Oleanders lined both side of the road. After passing the entrance to Fort Pulaski in the distance over the top of the marsh grass, we saw a freight ship gliding toward the Savannah Harbor. We would soon cross the last bridge putting us on Tybee Island.
Aunt Judy lives on the Back River. Her little cottage was built in the 1800s and had survived a hurricane and many tropical storms. It was on Chatham Avenue near the only marina on the Island. She is nearing ninety, and my husband, Joe, says she’s as stubborn as the old mule “Bill” that he plowed with on his granddaddy’s farm as a child. Jenny couldn’t wait to get to the cottage. She loved spending time with her great aunt; I thought my six-year-old daughter might be an asset in persuading Aunt Judy to leave the Island. When we entered the cottage the sunlight flowed through the windows giving light to the living room. Aunt Judy was rocking in that old white wicker rocker with her ocean blue quilt flapping against the back. She had the ceiling, with its exposed beams, and the wooden walls painted a soft white. The natural oak hardwood floor was complimented with a medium blue throw rug covered in white lighthouses trimmed with black and blue; it was made by one of the local artists. It was a pleasing background for her wicker furniture decorated with cozy blue pillows of every shade. As she rocked back and forth, her neighbor and old friend telephoned to let her know he would put up the storm shutters before leaving the island, and if she stayed she would be alone. She was determined to stay.
Jenny set in to begging Aunt Judy to come with us. I decided to use a different approach by explaining to her our need for her help. I told her with Joe in the hospital, I didn’t think I could do this alone. I needed help with the children. Aunt Judy agreed to come with us but only because we need her.
Aunt Judy and Jenny wanted to take a look at the ocean before we left the island. As we looked out over that vast saltwater, I was reminded of the power of God. We have to remember who is in control of our existences, and count our many blessings.
Aunt Judy, Jenny, Fifi, and I picked Mark up and drove to the hospital to see Joe before leaving town. Leaving him in Savannah was difficult but we didn’t have a choice. The hospital had provisions for emergencies; I had to believe he would be safe.
We had prepared the best we could. Our evacuation route was Georgia Interstate 16 and the traffic was backed up for miles; we were moving about 40 mph. It took several hours to arrive at the motel. It was a long night as we all gathered in front of the TV to wait for updates of the location of Hugo. The only one that slept that night was Jenny.
The next morning brought great news for us; Hugo had turned away from the Georgia coastline. Our neighbor city, Charleston, South Carolina, had been hit. Lives were lost; Property damaged. It was a disaster area. We returned home to find tree limbs down, electrical power outages, but our homes were still there. Joe would be released from the hospital the following day. Our church was sending a truck loaded with supplies to Charleston. We gathered supplies to contribute, and counted our blessings.
