remember it well. Hurricane Charlie was coming right up Interstate 4 towards us. We had the house battened down. Tools and cat cage in the center hall. Windows boarded. Winds picked up and as the sun set, the hurricane rolled over us.

Suddenly it was black outside, winds howling. The lights flickered and went out. In the back, I could hear trees going over. Got Prince the cat and stuffed him into his cage. The cat and wife and I hunkered in the center hall, all the doors closed. The house shuddered, wind coming up through the floorboards. At the height of the storm, the eye passed over us and suddenly – BANG! An explosion from the bathroom. Opened the door to find rain streaming through the hole where the skylight had been. The pressure drop had cork-popped it. I ripped down the shower curtain and nailed it up in place to keep the rain out.

That was a long night.

The next day, I surveyed the damage and wondered why the hell we’d stayed. What had been the point of huddling in a 1949 wood frame house? Sure, I have nearby family members who live in modern houses with power that stayed up, illuminating their hurricane mimosa parties. But why had I stayed?

So this next storm was coming, the storm of the century, Milton. I saw it line up on Interstate 4. Offshore winds were at 130 MPH. It was originally pathed to go right over the house. Just like Charlie. Just like fucking Charlie.

I picked up the phone and called a downtown hotel. We’d weather the storm night where it was safe in a concrete structure and pick our way back the next day once it cleared.

And in the back of my mind I recalled that Kenny Rogers’ song, “Coward of the County”, where Tommy makes a promise to jailbird dad not to fight and is now considered the coward of the county. Of course…

There’s someone for everyone, and Tommy’s love was Becky
In her arms he didn’t have to prove he was a man
One day while he was working, the Gatlin boys came calling
They took turns at Becky, n’there was three of them

So I was thinking a lot about this song as we kenneled the cat-kids and headed to the hotel. Winds were already picking up. Rain was lashing. The song kept coming back to me. Was I running? Was I a coward?

The Gatlin boys just laughed at him
When he walked into the barroom
One of them got up and met him half way cross the floor
Tommy turned around they said, “Hey look, old yella’s leavin'”
But you could’ve heard a pin drop
When Tommy stopped and locked the door
Twenty years of crawling was bottled up inside him
He wasn’t holding nothing back, he let ’em have it all
When Tommy left the bar room, not a Gatlin boy was standing
He said, “This one’s for Becky” as he watched the last one fall.

So according to Kenny, a man takes direct action even if it’s getting into a barroom brawl with three beefy locals. By going to the hotel, I was taking the more logical, less “brave” act. I wasn’t facing the storm on my own property. I was “cowarding” in a sturdy hotel.

The more I thought about it, really, what the hell good did Tommy’s against-the-odds victory made? Becky is home, suffering victim-shock from the assault in isolation. Yes, Tommy might be getting even and gaining his reputation back, but it does nothing for her. In fact, if she’s from a southern red state, if one of the Gatlin boys impregnated her, she’s going to have to bear a shameful souvenir. Have they considered that? They are going to have to arrange travel to a more sympathetic state to deal with this issue. And if the Gatlin boys are still walking around after their beating, might they not look for a rematch? Jump him? Kill him? (After all, n’there was three of them). Perhaps the police should be called, an assault case be filed, long prison terms handed out. I mean, that would be the logical way – access risks and weigh them logically, and act appropriately.

I stood looking out the window that night from the eighth floor watching the storm hammer Orlando. Two blocks away, a traffic light gantry was crashing down. Winds hit about 80 mph. Happily Milton drifted south so we got the slower side of the spin. Also, it moved fast and was clear of land at 8am, the point it should have been at closest approach. So it wasn’t as bad.

But it could have been. I weighted my risks and acted as I saw fit. And I didn’t want to stand bold like Tommy and watch my wife die if a huge tree came through the roof and crushed her life out of her in the wet darkness.

I’ll close with another set of Kenny Roger’s lyrics, something to support my choice…

You got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em
Know when to walk away and know when to run

See?

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