Family Mystery

Week of November 7

It is one of those unexplained things in our family. Grandfather had come from his house on the Rhode Island shore to spend the better part of the week helping dad replace the front porch on our home near Providence. On the second day my grandfather announced he had to go home. My dad protested but ‘Papa’ was firm.

Papa didn’t know why, he just knew he had to get back to his wife, who was blind, and their adult daughter. My father reluctantly drove Papa to the bus station.

The next afternoon I stood on the unfinished porch with my dad watching the rain and wind blow by the house. At five and a half years old I was holding onto the porch railing and my dad was holding onto me. Suddenly, without making a sound, a tree in the lot across the street toppled over. It didn’t snap or crack it just blew over and was uprooted. Then another tree fell. My dad had seen enough and took me inside.

Dad gathered our family on the inside wall of the dining room, away from the windows while he stood in the opposite corner by the telephone. He called the fire department to discuss the large elm next to our house. While he was talking, we heard a thump and saw the massive tree fall past the window. A branch grazed the house but the main part of the tree fell harmlessly into our driveway.

We didn’t know it then but we were witnessing the destructive hurricane of 1938 that would claim 682 lives from Long Island, Providence and the Southern New England coastline. There was no radar in those days and there had been no warning of the approaching danger.

For two days after the hurricane my dad tried to reach Papa but the phone lines were down. Finally, on the third day my dad decided to drive. He told us later he didn’t realize how catastrophic this hurricane had been until he approached the ocean. Where there had been a row of homes there was now empty space. The road was obliterated in places by sand and he had to detour around large boats and wharfs left stranded in the middle of the roadway.

He finally arrived in Tiverton only to find that the Old Stone Bridge to Island Park where Papa lived was gone. Dad hitched a ride over by boat.

When he reached the island he found everything in shambles. Many of the buildings he was familiar with were gone or reduced to rubble and my dad was disoriented and in shock. There was so much devastation. A metal street sign still in place told him he was at Papa’s road. All the cottages on the street were crushed or gone, except one. There was Papa’s house still standing with minimal damage.

Papa said when he awoke the morning of the storm he saw the ominous clouds, and boarded up his house, including the cellar windows preventing water from flooding the house. Papa, gramdma and my aunt rode out the ferocious storm in that single story house that Papa had built himself.

What had produced that overwhelming urge for my grandfather to return home? He never tried to explain it. When asked how he knew he had to return home he would just shrug his shoulders.

“Something was telling me I had to go home,” was all that he would say. He just heeded the message. And it is well he did. Like my Papa, today I pay attention to any strong inner messages. I know the source.

“Whoever listens to me will dwell safely, and will be secure without fear of evil.” (Proverbs 1:33)

Jody Estes
East Providence, Rhode Island