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 in
the city.. 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 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 was gone. He 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, grandma 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
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