Monday, May 23, 2011

Somewhere Between the Hubbub And the Drama


Oh, Missouri. Bits of it just keep getting destroyed. It's strange, when it gets hit I miss living there more. Of course, when I did live in Missouri, I'd watch news coverage of some building collapsing in New York and miss living there. And when I lived in New York, I'd watch something in Israel getting blown up and miss Israel. Nothing that catastrophic seems to happen in Connecticut, at least not on anything close to a regular basis. Weather here is also of steady habits - often miserable, but steady. Predictable.

Missouri, on the other hand...Maybe because it's so large (relatively) and so open. But there's something about it that just stands there and waits, as if it knows hardship is coming. To anthropomorphize, it stretches its arms out and raises its face to the sky and screams "Come on!"

This week (and the last week, and the week before that) it's been raining in Connecticut. And I've been whining about it. I hate rain. I have things to do, and I can't do them in the rain. Looking at pictures of Missouri, I've been remembering the way weather hits it, not weeks of on-and-off raindrops drumming on the windows, but suddenly, dramatically and unrelentingly.

It's probably wrong to illustrate this post with a lighthearted mural of flappers - and...men can't be flappers, can they? what are those guys called? - happily attempting to remove their car from a flooded Mississippi in Cape Girardeau. But I think I can say I learned, after living there just a short time, that Missouri is steady in its own way, and it always pulls itself out.

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