WSET.com - ABC13What A Hurricane Taught Me by Shelley Basinger

For as many hurricanes that have formed and hit the United States over the years, only a small percentage do enough damage to stand out in our memories.  And even then, it depends on where you live.  The entire country mourned with New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina.   You may remember Andrew when it ruined Florida.  And then there are storms like Camille and Isabel that stand out in the minds of Virginians.

Lately, Hurricane Irene has been the focus of the entire East Coast.  And it seems like anytime we brace for a Hurricane, even if it looks like my house is in the clear, I can't help but think back to the storm my family will never forget – Hurricane Hugo. 

In 1989, a couple of big things were going on that September.  One, little Shelley Basinger had just started Kindergarten and was turning 5.  Two, a destructive category 4 hurricane was about to slam into the South Carolina coastline.  Just outside of Charlotte, North Carolina, my parents kept talking about Hugo coming in, and I keep thinking this was some strangely named uncle I hadn't met yet.

But on the night of September 22^nd, I started to understand what was going on.  A big storm was coming, my mom said.  My brother and I were going to sleep downstairs on the sofa sleeper in the office, right next to my parents' room. 

I woke up about 5 a.m. in an empty bed and, for a second, thought a freight train had decided to take a new route right by our house.   It was dark, except for the glow of candlelight coming from the hallway.  I wandered out and found everyone in my parents' room – my dad on the bed, my mom and brother on the floor.  My dad was glued to a scanner.  He had a stern, worried look on his face.  My mom was acting funny too.  She kept asking my dad questions about what the men were saying underneath all of the static.  Soon, the wind picked up, and you could hear and feel the walls of the house creaking, swaying under the pressure.

I grew up going to church so I had prayed many times and knew what it meant.  But up until now, I had only prayed in a pew, at a kitchen table or in my bed while getting tucked in.  There, at the foot of the bed on the carpet, my mom told my brother and me to hold hands and bow our heads.  For several minutes, she asked Him to keep our family safe.  

When the freight train left, it seemed like only minutes before the sun came out, a spotlight to show what kind of damage was left behind.  Our yard – unrecognizable.  Massive trees down, left and right.  Every inch of grass covered in pulverized leaves.  There was no running water, no power.  And, suddenly, having a quiet house back in the middle of the dense woods was nightmare.  There was no way we would be getting out anytime soon - not without days of work with a chainsaw.

But in the midst of all the damage, a small sign that the power of prayer is stronger than any hurricane, no matter what it's named.  Behind our house, a large tree had fallen directly at my parents' bedroom and the office we slept in.  Only it didn't make it all the way down.   Its long branches simply brushed the roof.  The tree's trunk… caught by the monkey bars of our trusty metal swing set.

We didn't have power for at least two weeks.  And after only being in the classroom for a few weeks, we didn't go back for three.  Consequently, the beginning of my educational career was a little rocky.  But there's one lesson I learned from Hugo that I'll always take with me.  When you're feeling anxious and even helpless, grab the hand of someone you love and bow your head.