We lost power for a longer time with Connie, long enough to read all of The House of the Seven Gables by hurricane lamp. To this day, the smell of kerosene reminds me of that book.
I can't remember which hurricane took the wharf away while we stood on the shore and watched. Only moments before, my father and uncle had rescued the boat motors of several neighbors. People used to store their motors in little shacks at the end of the dock. Folks probably don't do much of that anymore. Too much theft. Anyway, the shack and the dock started to sway as they brought the last of the motors ashore. The whole thing collapsed into the waves and receded upriver like so much kindling.
People used to hunker down in hurricanes. Now, the government orders us inland like so much kindling on the tide.