Gumpa was our Weather Channel

My daddy’s old metal map of the Southeastern United States hangs with the magnets still in place from Hugo’s tract to Charleston some twenty one years ago. It is like a wall monument.

I recall constantly listening to the shrill sounds of the Charleston airport weather updates during tomato and cucumber season. This was our constant companion growing up on a Lowcountry vegetable farm.

The old weather radio is a far cry from the today’s sophisticated weather tracking. I imagine if we had had the Weather Channel back in the day, you may have heard something like this, “In 10 minutes, hail will hit Mr. George Hills’ farm and then the storm will ruin Harold Glover’s tomatoes down on Kiawah Island Parkway.” I think we would have all been half crazy.

I was religiously watching the Weather Channel this past week as South Carolina’s coast was threatened with Irene. My wheels started turning with what to do and when after seeing that category 3 hurricane make its way to the Southeastern coast. It has been heartbreaking to see the terrible damage done by that storm.

Before the storm made landfall, the weather channel folks interviewed brides whose weddings on the beach were postponed and stubborn residents who decided to weather the storm. So many people refused to leave their homes when warnings are issued. Just like my grandfather, Gumpa.

Cousin Bubba Walpole tells the story of Gumpa refusing to leave Johns Island as Hurricane David was well on its way to Charleston. Cousin Bubba had to place a shovel in the yard and make Gumpa promise if the water from Abbapoola Creek rose to the shovel, he would leave. I guess the shovel was considered his weather alert.

Gumpa, as always was right. His knowledge of the wind and Abbapoola tides proved the experts wrong. He could tell just by looking at the creek and the shifting winds where the hurricane was headed.

Although I am thankful to have today’s sophisticated technology, it does keep you glued to the radio and television. Much of the reporting drives me crazy as I try to understand what is hype and what is real.

Last week I wished I could have spoken with Gumpa about Hurricane Irene. He lived long enough to know all about storms and his words would have soothed my fears. I guess you could say that Gumpa was our family’s weather channel. The only difference was his reports where simple, to the point and he was hardly ever wrong.

If only the old kitchen table could talk

If only the old kitchen table could talk

“The more this table ages, the better it looks,” said the salesperson when Thomas and I bought our kitchen table. Years later that statement would have more meaning than the aging of the wood.

I dusted the kitchen table and saw the words, “Daniel C. Herlong” imprinted in the grain of the wood. I remember that was the time when Daddy Big John was teaching Holmes how to write cursive. The lesson was obviously repeated several times. Now we have an indelible memory of my father-in-law’s signature to cherish.

To the right of the signature is another memory from another Herlong brother. Uncle Frank came to visit and if you have ever had a Frank Herlong visit you have a story. Uncle Frank shared his track career at Clemson and used an oval place mat to simulate how he ran. By the time Uncle Frank finished running laps, we had an oval shape marked on the wood.

If only the old kitchen table could talk, it would tell stories.

It was a place of high chairs, Holmes and Caroline’s first words. The best facial expressions when new foods were tasted for the first time. There was contagious laughter that can only come from a baby. Our table is filled with milestones all parents love to experience.

Our kitchen table is a place of gathering. It was a place of fun that was decorated with Pocahontas themed birthday parties, cowboy round-ups and grown-up monumental birthdays. That table is where the Easter Bunny left jelly beans, chocolate bunnies and Thomas’ sock bunny that has returned every year since 1980.

There were failed meals, tears, laughter, and serious conversation. Countless drills of Wordly Wise, term papers and graduation thank you notes

My parents sat around that table with Thomas’ parents. They laughed and told stories about growing up, places they had seen and other tales. We laughed and learned with them.

I remember our past and miss family members who are no longer with us. My prayer is that the future holds more graduation notes, wedding invitations, and high chairs with grandbabies.

Our kitchen table is a storybook of a cherished past and a gathering place for tomorrow’s memories.