EL NINO and the WIND

The wind howls at my front door, the big bad wolf huffing and puffing and threatening to blow down my house made of sticks. The straw mat on the doorstep cannot survive the hound of the forest either, as it tumbles down the deck to the pavement below. The safety of the overhang is forgotten as the rain pelts horizontally against the windows. The clouds overhead are heavy with moisture sucked up from the ocean that threatens to break the seawall and pour into the city. Living on a hill is the only thing that protects me from the high tides that have created a new shoreline in the parkinglot behind the wharf.

Like exploding fireworks in a multitude of colors announcing the imminent arrival of a superstar, El Nino has ridden in on the west wind, daring anyone to not notice his entrance. He is here. He will not be ignored. At first, the conversation is peppered with words of heartfelt gratitude to Mother Nature for giving birth to such a healthy baby boy.

 But soon, the commuters tire of the unceasing pounding. The hospital nurses are tired from pulling double duty as they care for those injured in the multitude of freak accidents that surround the storms. Trees that have withstood the ravages of time have succumbed to the long dry spell and the instant mud bath that covers their shriveled-up roots. The drought had dried up all the twisted and entwined underbrush, leaving nowhere for the rain to go but into the quagmire that is slowly slipping down the hillsides that surround the bay. 

Soon, conversations turn to the appeals to the rain gods to make it stop, to offer some sort of relief. Enough already. Give us a break in the clouds so that we can repair the damages and brace ourselves for the next onslaught of storms. Windshields are pelted with hail and rain so hard that the wipers cannot keep up the pace and wear out too fast. Drivers are moving along, relying on their memory to get them where they need to go, for they cannot really see what is in front of them. Even the arrogant motorists are slowing down, realizing that being late is less permanent than being dead. Many shoppers are deciding that stocking up might be the wise thing to do, for a quick run to the supermarket has turned into a journey of epic porportions.

El Nino arrived on the wings of the wind yesterday. It has only been one day. But the promise of this small child is that he will grow into a strapping young man, ready to sow some wild oats, wreck havoc on the neighbors and leave a lasting tattoo'd impression on our lives. With this much power at his disposal, one would think we would name him. Something strong and mighty. Something to denote that he is a force to be reckoned with. A name that will personify the trouble he will cause. Something that will signify the legacy he is about to leave in his wake. I do believe we should call him Zeus. Thor. Alexander the Great. Oh but no, those names have already been taken by men and gods of greatness. But this is Monterey. I think we could go with something that has a special meaning for us... a name that reminds us of both the joys and the terrors of someone with these characteristics. I've got it.

Dennis. For this El Nino reminds us of another hellion that created havoc. A child who reigned his block, leaving his neighbors with a sense of resignation and acceptance to the fact that hopefully he would one day grow up and move away. And hey. We already have a park in Monterey named after this El Nino. It seems as though we were ready for him. 

So come in on the west wind Dennis. Come and dump your rambunctious rain on our dry dirt. Give us your best beastly weather. We will pull our coats around us a little tighter, throw our hands up in despair, and lock the doors - hoping you will go away and leave us alone in peace.