Clinton, South Carolina, Thursday, September 7, 2017, 12:15 p.m.

A week ago, a large chunk of Texas, which itself is a large chunk, caught the largest amount of rain ever recorded on the continent.

Now the most powerful Atlantic hurricane ever is curving toward, eventually, here.

How many “once-in-a-thousand-years storms” are going to have to hit this decade before we figure out that the climate just might be changing?

Maybe that’s the silver lining that glistens on the edge of swirling clouds that are 420 miles across. If only that silver could be mined … the electricity would still go out.

Here in the Carolina foothills, we have been fortunate. The hurricanes that have recently hit our coast have generally bored inland and curved to the right at about Columbia and headed for Charlotte. Gulf hurricanes are considerably weakened by the time they blow through. We’ve gotten wind and rain but no direct hits.

This time all bets are off. Not just in weather, now that I think about it.

I didn’t sleep well last night. I thought about all my friends in Florida. I thought about the Keys, where I’ve spent some time during and after stock car races in Homestead. I thought about the maddening Miami airport, and the Everglades, and Lake Okeechobee. I thought about Daytona Beach, and Orlando, and Jacksonville. I thought about how my home isn’t going to flood but is a decent target for an unruly tornado. I thought about drinking water and how I need to go to the grocery stores, where I wouldn’t be surprised if the bread and eggs are gone already. I thought about Aunt Linda, who just lost Uncle Maxie last week. I thought about Ella, my niece, and here three beautiful little boys near Columbia, and Ray, my nephew, and Jessica, with their three-year-old boy and one-year-old girl and another whose arrival date is next February. And Vince, at whom I fussed unnecessarily yesterday, and Jake, living near Lake Greenwood.

I thought about how glorious the eclipse was here in town, and miracles never cease, but some miracles are wondrous in their fury instead of their peace.

The Citadel and Presbyterian College have moved the Saturday football game here, and it seems like such a good idea to stroll over to PC and have a good party because, two days later, all hell is liable to break loose another way.

Eat, drink, and be merry!

I prayed an inordinate amount because I awakened an inordinate number of times, and I asked for forgiveness because I can’t help but hope all that wreckage in the Caribbean takes the starch out of that monster before it gets here.

Irma. What an inoffensive name for a monster. It ought to be named Butch. Irma La Douce was a beautiful Parisian prostitute, played by Shirley MacLaine, opposite Jack Lemmon, in the movies. Erma Bombeck was a humor columnist. Laurens is playing Irmo High School Friday night.

This morning the local weather gurus seemed less hysterical than they usually are when wind, rain, heat, cold, sleet and/or grandly exaggerated hail approaches. Maybe they’ll come around and tell me about the bowling-ball-sized hail that was spotted in Pacolet.

Finally, I thought of the inspiring words of the late Jerry Reed, who sang, “If I’m not out of gas in a pouring rain, I’m changing a flat in a hurricane. Lord, Mr. Ford, what have you done?”

 

If you’d like me to mail you a signed copy of Life Gets Complicated, or any of my other novels, you can find my address and instructions at montedutton.com. (montedutton.com/blog/merchandise). Or, just drop me a line and you can pay through PayPal.

I’ve written seven novels and a collection of short stories. I’ve also written a number of books about sports, mostly about NASCAR. You can find most of them here.

The Kindle versions of my books, where available, can be found above. Links below are to print editions.

Lightning in a Bottle is the story of Barrie Jarman, the hope of stock car racing’s future. Barrie, a 18-year-old from Spartanburg, South Carolina, is both typical of his generation and a throwback to the sport’s glory days.

Life Gets Complicated follows Barrie Jarman as he moves up to FASCAR’s premier series. He and Angela Hughston face discrimination for their interracial love affair, and Barrie has to surmount unexpected obstacles that test his resolve.

Cowboys Come Home is a modern western. Two World War II heroes come home from the Pacific to Texas.

I’ve written a crime novel about the corrosive effects of patronage and the rise and fall of a powerful politician and his dysfunctional family, Forgive Us Our Trespasses.

I’ve written about what happens to a football coach when he loses everything, Crazy of Natural Causes. It’s a fable of life’s absurdity.

I’ve written a tale of the Sixties in the South, centered on school integration and a high school football team, The Intangibles.

I’ve written a rollicking yarn about the feds trying to track down and manipulate a national hero who just happens to be a pot-smoking songwriter, The Audacity of Dope.

I’ve written a collection of 11 short stories, all derived from songs I wrote, Longer Songs.

Signed copies of Lightning in a Bottle are on sale at Emma Jane’s (see ad above). Signed copies of all my fiction are also on sale at L&L Office Supply in uptown Clinton, South Carolina.

Follow me on Twitter @montedutton, @hmdutton (about writing), and/or @wastedpilgrim (more opinionated and irreverent). I’m on Facebook (Monte.Dutton), Instagram (TUG50), and Google-Plus (MonteDuttonWriter).

Write me at hutdut@duttonm@bellsouth.net or “message” me through social media.