When the average person hears that there is a hurricane coming, there is a somewhat worried feeling of fear that creeps in when contemplating how truly small our existence is in comparison to the might of Mother Nature.
When the average Bermudian hears that there is a small craft warning of 50+ knot winds? Yeah, that’s much closer to the mild excitement level of the emotional scale.
There’s the grocery planning for an 18-day siege, of course. The obligatory trip to Gorham’s to find the perfect flashlight for every room. The cooking ritual of either spaghetti or chili, enough to last for at least a couple of days. And, of course, making sure there’s enough wine, beer or Black Seal on hand to carry you through the flickering … and the inevitable loss … of electricity.
That’s not to say that there aren’t the more annoying logistics part of storm prep. Buying or cutting the perfect size of plywood to cover every window that you really do not want to have to replace. Filling the bathtub with water (just in case). Stacking all your outdoor furniture away in the shed, provided you have the space. And don’t forget to memorise every socket placement so that you can quickly unplug every appliance that you value the minute the electricity goes out. Trust me, the last thing you want is for a surge to provide a reason to post on Maj’s List asking for advice on how to claim for a fried 60-inch TV from your insurance company, provided you have contents insurance.
But once you have all the prep done and everything is as secured as it can be you finally have a chance to sit down and … wait. Hurricanes can take a long time to come when you are ready for them.
You grab that old-school radio to make sure you can get the EMO updates when your phones give up the ghost. You play every board game known to man which, pro-tip, is a surefire way to find out how much your husband cheats at said board games. You play Crazy Eights until you feel a bit stir-crazy yourself.
If you are daring, and the wind isn’t too high yet, you can take a quick walk around the neighbourhood. Let’s be honest, it’s mainly to be pokey and judge your neighbours’ boarding up efforts. But don’t stay out too long. A stray gust has a way of sneaking up on you and you will want to make sure you’re indoors when the sideways rain starts.
It’s easy to paint this with rose-coloured glasses, and I don’t want to downplay the reality. Hurricanes are serious, powerful events. People can get hurt. The preparation we do isn’t just a ritual, it’s necessary. Living on an island in the middle of the ocean means we face at least one or two of these storms every year, so we have had to become somewhat experts at facing them.
But that’s part of what makes us Bermudian. Our resiliency in the face of, well, the storm. And our resiliency after the winds die down on the other side. When the winds settle and the skies clear, that’s when you really see who we are. Neighbours helping neighbours. People clearing debris, checking in, rebuilding together. That’s where Bermuda truly shines.
And maybe that’s the real story of hurricane season. Not the high winds and the rain, but the quiet reflection that no matter how hard it blows, we’re never really facing it alone. There’s something comforting about that, knowing that when the storm passes, someone will be there with a rake, a hammer, or just a cold drink and a laugh about how we all got through it. Because surviving the storm is one thing but showing up for each other after it passes is what truly defines a true Bermudian.
