When I was a kid, hurricanes sounded pretty cool. They had names like “Bob” or “Felix” or “Andrew.” They made you want to be around them so you could see the weather turn bad and watch as trees fell down. For me, it was kind of like a tornado, they seemed pretty cool from what I had heard and I hoped one day I could see one.
Late one summer I was spending a weekend at my grandmother’s summer home in the coastal town of Scituate, Massachusetts. A hurricane whose name I cannot remember was going to hit on Tuesday and I wanted to hang around, but for some reason, my parents, probably bend on ruining my childhood, would not let me stay to see the storm.
The hurricane knocked down a huge sea wall made of a pile of large rocks, causing the sea to spill into the pond behind it and eventually flooding the house. The neighbor’s wooden, double bench swing was blown away and never seen again. As a kid, all I could think was “Awesome!” Continue reading The McBournie Minute: Hurricanes really blow
It seems like a lot of Fridays are all about people running away. Mostly, it’s because people are running away to go enjoy the weekend. They don’t care about you or your stupid economy. But we’re always here for you, except when were on vacation. If you were too busy answering questions for Charles Gibson this week, odds are you missed it.