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Blogs by Robert A. Mills
FRANCES & FRIENDS - May 3 5/3/2014 3:13:07 PM
Not all communities in metro Atlanta were as fortunate as Chatsworth (off Mabry) to have survived virtually unscathed by Hurricane Frances and its tropical storm siblings, although we did have our moments.
I was at my desk quite early that Tuesday morning (in 2013) working on my latest novel, when the chilling sound of cracking tree limbs penetrated my concentration, igniting a most vivid memory of the northeast ice storm of 1991 when my home in Rochester NY was surrounded by toppled trees, smashed roofs, and deadly downed wires. It was, momentarily, deja vu all over again.
Running outside with my videotape camera and umbrella, I was sad (and selfishly relieved) to see that a couple of huge branches had broken away from a massive tree in front of 4449 Derwent Avenue, diagonally across from my place. The branches, thick and gnarled, heavy with soaked leaves and saturated sinews, lay fatally wounded, stretched grotesquely from curb to curb.
Of course, this presented a frantic problem for a plethora of early morning motorists, as the street now seemed impassable. While I called 911 on my cell phone to report the phenomenon to the proper Cobb County authorities, our chagrined and distraught neighbors saw no alternative but to drive over my lawn in both directions, leaving the area between the street and the sidewalk scarred with deep, ugly ruts of mud.*
A school bus suddenly appeared, and I had visions of the yellow monster and its charges being swallowed whole by the gaping gorge it would create once it lumbered onto my yard.
I thought of all the parents who would never see their children again, and my heart went out to the hapless driver who would be forever blamed as the desperate soul who had blindly driven her school bus into Frances’ cavernous abyss in front of my residence in Chatsworth (off Mabry).
But I had underestimated the inherent cunning of our Cobb Country school bus ‘denizen of duty.’
The lady promptly threw open the door, jumped coatless and hatless into the downpour, and commandeering the assistance of a somewhat dazed young man happening by at that precise moment, instructing him to put down his umbrella and grab the wind-blown branches and, he and she, with superhuman strength, began pulling the fallen tree far enough aslant to open a single lane of traffic.
With a sigh of vehicular relief, the lines of cars now were able to pass — taking turns — in unrestricted safety.
It was a glorious sight to behold.
Now that my camcorder had recorded the license plates of neighbors who had driven nonchalantly across my grass, I made a mental note of those who had remained in their warm, dry cars, with no thought of assisting the dauntless bus driver and intrepid young man; they seemed to hunker down just a bit more to hopefully avoid being recognized or having to make eye-contact with any of us.
I do not know the name of the school bus lady or the young man who assisted her, but we who exist in the relentless arena of neighborly derring-do owe them a debt of gratitude.
*The unfortunate sapling at 4449 Derwent was on an island at the edge of the street, surrounded on three sides by a circular driveway. Hindsight being the perfect remedy to gross indifference, why did not the motorists simply use that driveway to circumvent the collapsed limbs? I am sure the new owners would not have minded.
I am certain I would not, considering the alternative, have.
Robert Mills
**** Derwent Dr.
Marietta Ga
770-**2-****
I never want to spend another night as I experienced on Monday and Tuesday last. It was bad enough listening to the kettle-drums and seeing the lightning that the thunderstorm outside my bedroom windows produced in Atlanta, but my kids — Alex, Phillip, Hutson and Elizabeth Anne — had an apartment in Birmingham, Alabama, in a direct path of the first serious ‘tornado crisis in the South’ of 2014.
Alex’s text-message from the night before and her reassuring phone call to my wife, Christine, Tuesday afternoon were well-received and appreciated, but we still had Tuesday night and all day Wednesday to face.
What with the anguish of PLS to contend with, I don’t know if I have what it takes to even think what life would be like without my family of Alex, Phil, Hutty and Ellie to contend with.
Sure, I would still have Bobby and Barb to order around — and Chris to drive crazy — but they have been a part of me forever, they have already been my anchors against the knives and swords of outlandish living; Christine is someone I cannot function without; if she goes, I may as well pursue her for I shall be worthless — not only to myself but to Bobby and Barb, and whoever is left.
Should nature compel me to lose the Birmingham contingency, I will have lost everything — including my will to go on!
Oh, I would still have Bob — to call him ‘Bobby’ when he will be 70 on August 9 this year — seems a bit of foolishness!
The same holds true for Barbara — to call her merely ‘Barb’ when she will be 68 this coming birthday — is even more than foolish.
What is more natural is to the call me whatever comes to mind. I will be 83 my next birthday—this year, believe it or not!
