The Hurricane of '38

The Hurricane of ‘38
by Jay

As a child I heard stories of the great Hurricane of ’38.  This massive storm, which wreaked havoc along parts of the eastern seaboard, particularly New England, was one of the worst natural disasters to hit the U.S. during the twentieth century.  Both of my grandmothers told me where they were when this hurricane struck.  My mother’s mother told me she was working in an office building and remembered trees and branches flying through the air past her window.  My father’s mother, who was seventeen and was still in high school, remembered being in the school yard and having to hold onto various things, including a flagpole as she attempted to make her way into the safety of one of the buildings.  What escapes me to this day is why both of my grandmothers were not home.  It would seem to make sense to close all businesses and schools, yet there they were going about their daily routines as if nothing unusual were happening around them.  Of course, they told me these stories many years after the actual events, so perhaps their memories were a bit clouded.  Perhaps my mother’s mother had actually been at home and observing the storm through the safety of her own windows, and perhaps my father’s mother had actually been in her own back yard and had simply wanted to go out and experience the high winds and then had trouble getting back inside.  Perhaps she lived next to the school yard.  These things I do not know and perhaps never will.  Then again, perhaps my own recollection of my grandmothers’ stories has become shrouded within the obscurity of time.  After all, these accounts were related to me as a child. 

            I remember taking hikes with my father in the woods back in the 1970’s and seeing these large, mossy trees which had fallen during the Hurricane of ’38.  I remember being fascinated, thinking to myself that these trees had been rotting in the woods for nearly forty years.  In a child’s eyes, that was an extremely long time, and yet now, nearly forty more years have passed since I saw those decaying trees.  The time does not seem so long.  Nay, a mere blink in the cosmic eye.  And yet…   I still wonder whether there are any signs out there of that great storm from long ago.  Many of the people who experienced it have long since passed away, my grandmothers included.  Today, one would have to be nearly eighty to remember it.  I’m sure there are still some old timers out there who could keep you enthralled with their eyewitness accounts.  And perhaps if you look close enough, very close…  there yet may be some traces left of a fallen tree that has been nearly annihilated by over seven decades of New England winters.  Perhaps a forgotten old house or barn remains barely standing in some remote field or patch of woods… 

            In the long term however, time will erase all trace and memory of the great Hurricane.  All that will remain will be what was recorded and left behind by those who experienced it.  I suppose in this sense, some storms never die.