It’s That Time of Year
Thirty-some years ago we lived on the Outer Banks, a string of barrier islands off the coast of North Carolina where hurricane watches and warnings are likely to occur a couple times a year. Hurricane Gloria made landfall while we lived there, and as much as my husband wanted to stay and experience the power of the storm, evacuation was mandatory. We learned the island was submerged from the Pamlico Sound to the Atlantic Ocean, leaving a foot of sand covering North Carolina Highway 12 — the only way in or out — and we weren’t able to get home until the road was cleared almost a week later. There was still no electricity, and all our food had spoiled. Drinking water was not potable. As soon as the road was passable — and I mean immediately — the Salvation Army showed up and handed out food and water to everyone. There were no questions asked, no conditions, no mention of religion. Those good people kept us fed as long as the need was there. I remember that especially at this time of year, when the Salvation Army is so visible. If you see one of their people standing on a street corner or outside the grocery store and ringing a bell, think of me and drop something in the red kettle. Please. I can personally attest to the good work they do.