One More Day

The big storm's coming.  So they say.  It is mentioned in every conversation.  Plans are made.  People who have never been through a hurricane before have varied responses.  For some, it is hurricane party time.  Others are fearful.

Me?  I have PTSD.  I am freaked in a way others might not understand.  Having been the victim of one terrible hurricane that cost me more than my life savings (O.K.--my savings may have been pitiful, but I had to pay for the things over a long, long period of time).  It is one of the reasons I have not travelled much in the past years.  Money and debt are real things.  I am cavalier about it, but deep down in my gut there is a terrible never-ending wrenching.  I tell myself that odds favor me, but I don't believe it.  I have tempted fate in a number of ways, not the least in not having the appropriate home owner's insurance coverage.  There are two large trees--no, tremendous trees--whose huge limbs hang over my roof.  They are beautiful and help to keep my house cooler.  I had them trimmed this year, thank goodness, so that much of the weight is gone.  It gives me little peace, however.  My heart is in my throat.  But even if they do not come down, I have a leaky roof and have not heard from the roofing company I signed a contract with over two weeks ago.

Friends. . . I cannot communicate my anxiety to you even with the use of hyperbole.

Today, I will get things in preparation.  Not much, but some.  Water.  Liquor.  Snacks.  I have been through a number of hurricanes in my life.  I know that for most people it will simply be irritating.  They might lose electricity, though many of my neighbors have huge built-in generators that will run their air conditioners as well as their lights.  I, however, have gone through many weeks of hurricane related power outages, and I know what a miserable, horrible thing it is when you are without while others are not.  I am sure, at the very least, I will lose power, and I will hear the hum of the generators across the street.

But if that is all I lose, I will shout "Hallelujah" with hands raised to the heavens.

Stay tuned.

On another note, I have been going through my inventory of cameras and lenses as I have been trying to figure out what to do with them.  I search for the perfect bags, the perfect slings, the best anything for carrying them.  I have been obsessing over some new gear, but last night with everything scattered around the living room, I decided I have enough.  I want a Leica Monochrom, but that is a silly purchase.  As cool as it is, it won't be worth anything in a few years as new technology comes along.  Same with the Leica M 262.  I wanted the new Canon 5D, but there is not enough difference between that and the one I have to make the purchase meaningful.  The film cameras--the Leica M7, the Rollieflex, the Hasselblad, the little Olympus XA, the Leica CL, the Hasselblad XPan, the Leica R5. . . and the many others--they are classics.  They are enough.

The most primitive of them, the Leica CL, is the most basic.  It is the one I am going to carry and shoot.  It is a cool little camera that needs to be focused and metered.  It takes some thinking to make a picture.  And I am enjoying that.  It is a tiny camera with tiny lenses, so they take a tiny little bag in which you can also carry a Moleskine notebook, pens, and even a pack of little cheroots.

I have an image in my head, of course, in which I am thin and wearing jackets made of the most beautifully draping fabrics.  I will barely eat, drinking endless cups of coffee and mugs of strong beers.

Scoff if you will.  Everyone else does.

But I must be off now to tend to factory problems and to prepare for possible disasters.  I have one more day of wondering.