Hurricane Watch: Sense of Purpose Floods East Coast

Table full of hurricane food.

I'd forgotten all about Claussen Pickles. When I was on 'kidney watch' I couldn't eat anything pickled. Too much sodium.

I had four sliced pickles tonite. Barely any calories or carbs. Think "cucumber."

I always wheel my cart around to the pharmacy to say hello to Bob Mazza. When his Italian forebears arrived at Ellis Island, they changed the family surname to "Mazza."

Everyone loves Bob. Even my mom knows him.

I was in such a great mood after shopping I thot I'd drive to Hatboro to get some gaz, the station was closed, and check my PO box.

The PO was still, and I put the ads and mental health announcements in the recycle bin.

I went for a long walk on the streets of Hatboro.

The record store just went outa business. A young man named Jesse owned it. Formerly, it was Mayor Celano's shop. He now lives alone, his wife Arlene having died years ago. She ran the YMCA thrift shop right next to the PO. It's no longer there, either.

Celano, in his mid-90s, lives in one of the most beautiful houses in Hatboro, a large stone house. Quite senile now, he's still the friendly man he always was. I wrote an article about him for the local paper on his volleyball team at the "Y."

My mom is all happy about the Hurricane. Puts a little spice in her life of sitting in a chair and shuffling thru her papers.

My sister Donna lives in a flood zone in a beautiful Hatboro townhouse. She and her neighbors have probly put down loads of sandbags to thwart the rage of the hurricane.

Can you live with a bit of mystery? We don't know when or where it will hit.

My worry is that the electricity will go off.

"Finding myself through poetry." This is a topic I'd like to discuss somewhere, either on this blog or in the next issue of the Compass, or maybe even a Patch.com blog.

Thanks, Dear Reader, for letting me think outloud.