My best friend from high school and I found each other again after losing touch for more than thirty years. We drifted apart after college, then moved to different parts of the country. When we reconnected, she was living in southeast Florida; I in the midwest. I was saddened to learn that she had become disabled during our years apart, but I did not become concerned for her safety until the first hurricane warnings of the next season were broadcast.

 

She sent emails to everyone she knew: rainbands were already affecting her area; the eye was not expected to pass near.... Then, communication ceased for days. High winds had knocked out the power in her neighborhood. She was stuck in a ground-floor apartment with no lights and a dying cell phone. Those who were accustomed to being in touch with her on a daily basis could do nothing but sit and hope and pray. After three days, the email that put our fear to rest arrived. She shotgunned the message to everyone in her address book, for she wanted to get word out that she was okay before the power went off again. The last paragraph warmed my heart:

 

“Now, a special thanks to Nancy: remember that folding paper fan you gave me? That little thing saved my life!”

 

Who could have known that something so trivial could make such a difference? In a small dwelling with the air conditioning off and the rain blowing so hard it would be folly to open a window, a low-tech accessory such as that Japanese souvenir I gave her made her ordeal a little easier to bear.

 

Her geographic location inspired gift possibilities that would not be nearly so useful to anyone else I know. I scanned incoming mail-order catalogs with my new goal in mind. It wasn’t long before I found the perfect thing to send her that Christmas: a purse-sized flashlight powered by a hand crank. It has five white LEDs that can be lit at three illumination levels. The color of the light enables her to use it for reading, if she wishes. Best of all, it came with a pouch of attachments that would enable her to plug a cell phone into a jack on the flashlight and charge its battery by hand-crank when it failed. That means she could have light and a way of maintaining contact with the outside world, or to call emergency services, should she need them.  Although she was delighted with my gift, she still hasn’t had a chance to test the phone-charging feature.  Why?

Two hurricane seasons have come and gone since I gave her this cool little survival tool, and southeast Florida has remained hurricane-free. As I write, Hurricane Gustav is hosing Louisiana, but it bypassed Florida, and Tropical Storm Fay avoided my friend’s neighborhood. Is it magic? Probably not. Maybe it’s nothing but an odd variation on Murphy’s Law: if you are as prepared for a hurricane as you can possibly be--short of evacuating--maybe you won’t need all those preparations at all. Rest assured, though: if you fail to prepare, a hurricane is almost sure to find you.