Five hurricane lessons from Hilton Head

Five things we’ve learned from hurricanes past:

Phone home.

Tell your friends and relations early on what you plan to do in an evacuation.

This will keep them from calling you every 15 minutes. They will be watching a swirling red blob devour the Atlantic Ocean as it spins over and over again on their television screens far away.

Telling them that you are “waiting to see what it does” or that you are “still at work” will come through their telephone receiver like this: “I have run away with the Hare Krishnas and now live in an airport.” It will not compute.

Also, this will force you to have a plan. Oh, that. Yes, that.

Power up.

We used to worry about having enough candles if the power went out. That is from a time so long ago, like maybe a decade, that it might as well be the chantings of monks in the Middle Ages.

What good is a candle if your cellphone is dead? What backup power source do you have, how much of a charge will it hold, and how long will it last?

It is a Lowcountry tradition as old as oyster shell rings that we all line up at the drug store to buy batteries when the hurricane gets 10 miles offshore. When you get within an hour of the cash register, it will hit you. You will wonder why you timed your life so that your last deed on earth would be waiting in line to buy AA Energizer Bunnies. And you will weep. This you want to avoid.

Leave early.

We’ve had an evacuation before that turned the entire state into a traffic jam. It was literally bumper-to-bumper from the sea to the mountains.

And there were no motel rooms this side of Knoxville.

So you might want to get ahead of the crowd. And take an old-fashioned, paper road map. You’ll be glad you did.

Do what they say.

By now, you have plenty of hurricane literature on what to take, what to leave, and how to batten down the homestead. Just do it.

One time I left with only one prized possession: a well-cured black iron skillet. Now think about that. If we had actually been hit by a hurricane, which, knock on wood, has not happened, my family would have used said iron skillet as a murder weapon.

So do what they say. This is not difficult. It falls under the category of things you learned from your sixth-grade teacher: “The Lord gave you a brain, now use it!”

This too shall pass.

This much we know: Santa Claus doesn’t come riding on hurricanes. Do not expect instant, magic wands from Uncle Sam to relieve all misery. It’s easy to blame FEMA, but it is unreasonable to expect quick fixes.

Hurricane Hugo in 1989 was aimed dead at us until it ticked a degree or two north and roared ashore near Charleston. We saw up close how it uproots lives and rains misery for months and years to come. We saw the price-gougers and the good Samaritans — mostly good Samaritans.

And we saw that Sullivan’s Island and McClellanville and old lady Charleston herself take a mighty blow. But they came back. They’re still here. This too shall pass, but get out of the way.

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This story was originally published October 4, 2016 at 10:25 AM with the headline "Five hurricane lessons from Hilton Head."