I'm leaving early enough to get to Holiday Pet Lodge when it opens at 8. Then I'm going on to Bradley airport in Hartford. Once when my father moved to CT, one of the stewardess' said to him, "Here's YOUR airport, Mr. Bradley." He loved that.
John, Jack, Sherry and Bern are leaving out house at 8 to go to Bradley. I'm taking my car so I can pick up Bela next Saturday when we get back.
We'll fly to Myrtle Beach and then drive 45 minutes or so to Oak Island. The Realty company sent an email to day to say they don't expect much more than a little rain from Irma.
Tim and Mimi and Eleanor fly to Raleigh tomorrow and then drive an hour and a half to the island.
Tim's parents are in Tampa, so, think of them. They're probably going to a shelter on Saturday. Tim is, I'm sure, a wreck.
Also, Irma practically destroyed Barbuda. St. John's in Waterbury, where I served for 21 years, has a huge number--60 or 70 members from Barbuda. I talked to one of them yesterday. Their ancestral home is gone. Think of them as well.
(Notice I say 'think' instead of 'pray'. 'Praying' it seems to me, is mostly non-verbal except in a community setting--so 'thinking of' folks is how I pray for them. Just a bit of theology for you.)
I think I know how to access the blog from someone's lap top so I hope to report in on the week.
If not, talk at you in a week or so.
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