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Rock you like a hurricane
by anna at 08:54 AM on September 20, 2003
After we bought our home 12 years ago, we noticed a peculiar steel grate next the back porch entrance. We assumed it to be a storm drain. Little did we know that since the county had allowed greedy builders to build in a flood plane, they'd installed elaborate systems to pump standing water from the backyard to the street. Or that the prior owner had seen fit to take his sump pump with him. Only when the first of many floods occured did we realize what we'd gotten ourselves into. Since that time I've pretty much lived in that hole, replacing the pump three times and repairing it countless times. I've become all too conversant with the term "contractor grade."
We're just like other homeowners, fervent in our quest to keep water away from our hovels. Neighbors will run pipes from their downspouts to the fenceline. They'll use graders to create hills and runoff. It's like water wars in reverse.
So the hurricane is bearing down on us. We're battening down the hatches when I notice that while the pump is humming away, no water's coming out of the hole in our curb. I fish sticks, leaves and other debris from the fetid sump-water. I then discover a well-chewed dog bone lodged into the intake. When I remove it water gushes like never before. I feel triumphant! That is, until the power abruptly cuts off.
In the midst of a raging tsunami my wife and I are out there bailing like madpersons with one gallon buckets and milk jugs. We're losing the battle badly. I keep insisting that we need another body and bigger buckets. She's having none of that. No way our 13 year old son is getting anywhere near that deep hole covered by roiling, muddy water. Only when it became apparent that either he pitches in or our basement floods does she relent. He's quick to agree and soon enough we're a well-oiled bailing machine. But still the buckets are too small and it's a standoff between Isabel the Ho and us.
In a gesture dripping with symbolism he dashes to his room and dumps a five gallon bucket full of Legos on the floor. That sucker proved a godsend as the dynamic trio gained the upper hand. The tide had turned, so to speak. Like a shark's fin in the foaming surf, we could glimpse the tip of our cursed pump.
Victory was at hand and our boy had played an instrumental role in it. The time was 1:00 AM, well past his bedtime.
Ian: "I feel like I just had my bar mitzfah." Me: "Huh?" Ian: "When a Jewish boy turns 13 they throw him a party that signifies his passage into manhood." Me: "Amazing analogy!" *kicks self for acting so clinically detached at such a touching Family Moment*
The next morning the power is back on. He's lounging around in front of the TV, scratching himself in his underwear. I remark, "I sure was proud of you. Didn't know you had that kind of perseverence in you." He sasses back, "It's called adrenaline, dad. Now could you make my breakfast?"
I trudge upstairs to gather up the Legos he's left strewn across his room, thinking: that's my boy. Er, man.
There. I did my little inspiration thing, albeit into the weekend posting abyss. Not to worry as I'll now get back to being my usual brooding, surly self.
comments (12)
now that's a great fucking story.
by lajoie at September 20, 2003 11:57 AM
Why thanks, Lajo. Of course it didn't come without a cost. I am now on my way to Toys R Us to purchase him a FIFA 2003 for PS-2 in payment for all that hard work.
by anna at September 20, 2003 1:36 PM
right. it's for him. mmmh hmm. no, i get it.
by lajoie at September 20, 2003 1:41 PM
"it's called adrenaline, dad". these kids today, i tell ya.
by lizard at September 20, 2003 3:49 PM
FIFA 2003 for PS-2: $50. The look on his face when I actually follow through on a promise for once: freaking priceless.
As for "it's called adrenaline..." he's not nearly as snide as his sister's "well, duh" and "whatEVER" at the same age.
And yeah, Lajo, you must read the comments carefully. FIFA is our shared obsession. We are now like 136-0-0. If any team threatens to win we just restart the game.
by anna at September 20, 2003 5:50 PM
and you know he's paying attention in biology class, that's a good thing.
by lizard at September 20, 2003 6:54 PM
well, i read'em alright, but the fifa thing has popped up a couple of times. some things you just don't forget. i don't play any video games, but i'm pretty hip to the idea that dad shares this with son.
don't forget to add "bails mad water" to your husbandry resume.
by lajoie at September 20, 2003 7:15 PM
This wasn't just mad water. The best way I can think to describe it is "clammy." Now, about this new FIFA version...
Is anyone else out there?
by anna at September 21, 2003 7:48 AM
Your writing just keeps getting better, Anna! And definitely, what a great story.
by jean at September 21, 2003 4:27 PM
Anna, congratulations... I don't think anything in this post offended my fragile PC sensibilities!
ha!
by Linz at September 22, 2003 4:05 PM
Yeah, interesting. I always thought that most people's houses felt like they were going to blow away in Hurricanes. I guess that's a hold over from watching Gilligan's island as a kid. It makes more sense that most of them just flood.
Of course as far inland as I am, we just get the occasional tornado. They are interesting in themselves, and you usually get much less warning then when a hurricane is bearing down on you.
Of course one of the common denominators in Hurricanes and Tornados seems to be that the people in trailers get it worse than the rest of us. At least you're in a house...
by chuckwoolery at September 22, 2003 4:53 PM
Linz I wrote this piece with that as my sole goal. Yes! And Chuck they were actually predicting scattered tornados in with the 'cane. I'm like, as if we don't have enough to deal with already.
by anna at September 22, 2003 5:29 PM