Let me set the scene (keep in mind I was a theater major). The Houston area, where fur coats appear on the "ladies who lunch" when the weather dips below 50, has been hit by an unprecedented winter storm that not only brings snow and prolonged sub-freezing temperatures, but also creates statewide power outages for millions. My extremely pragmatic sister lives in a high-rise that lost power early in the storm and, thinking quickly, secures a hotel room in Houston's only five-star hotel, which just happens to be down the street from her place. Less than 24 hours later, I too lose power, but living in a house that has a fireplace, well-stocked pantry, and a gas cooktop, just hunker down. My car's parked on the driveway so I can easily access it to charge my gizmos, which also gives me the opportunity (or really, excuse) to warm up.
And it's there, while texting with Black (who, for the record, rarely texts but at that point in time it was the only form of communication that worked), that the following conversation ensues …
| Hotel lost power |
| Sorry! What are you going to do?! |
| Give it a few minutes – may be rolling blackout |
| Back on … was only off for a few minutes … maybe room has energy conservation setting since I had not moved |
| Ok, not as funny as pink utility bills but amusing nonetheless |
So, you may be wondering, why did I find this amusing and what do pink letters have to do with anything? Well, I'll start with the pink letters …
Years ago, when we were teaching a personal finance and Life 101 class at KIPP Houston High School, Black wanted the high school seniors to understand how having money's different from being smart with money. She explained how she kept receiving mail from her electricity provider that had those clear "windows" where she could see a pink letter inside. However, she ignored them because she typically paid her utility bills months in advance, so assumed they were part of a breast cancer awareness campaign.
All was good … until everything in her high-rise went, no pun intended, black. She assumed it was a power outage. Until she went out into the hallway and all the lights were on. Long story short, there had been an increase in her utility rate, so what she had paid months ago wasn't enough. Bottom line: my sister didn't pay her bill, and after sending her many "pink letter" past due notices, turned off her electricity.
So, what does this have to do with her hotel room going dark? Except for the obvious connection, actually, nothing. But it reminded me, whether she thought the hotel might be experiencing a rolling blackout or that the bills were fundraising for breast cancer, Black jumps to a "meaningful" reason for why something happens. It's typical Black. Logical and pragmatic but also looking for a bit more "meaning" to things. Which is fine, but it often makes me laugh (to myself, anyway) knowing that in reality the truth's often (actually, almost always) simpler and something us "mere mortals" easily see.
Sometimes it's best not to overthink or overanalyze …
| I love how The Eyewall newsletter keeps an eye (pun intended) on tropical activity in the Atlantic Ocean, Caribbean Sea, and Gulf of Mexico. Not only is it a great “no hype” analysis of what’s going on, but it really helps me deal with the prospect of any bad storms hitting Houston. |
| You definitely watch the weather more than I do. But, I know that is because you have an extreme “fear” (or however you want to describe it) of driving in heavy rain and potentially facing road flooding. |
| Borderline terror. Thanks to you. |
| Me? I thought I was the one who taught you what to do when encountering high water. |
red headassets.rebelmouse.io
Blackassets.rebelmouse.io | You did. But only after you got me into the situation in the first place! It had already been raining heavily when we each arrived at that meeting near my house. Afterward, although I preferred to go straight home, you thought it’d be ok for us to keep to the original plan of me following you into Houston. |
| At the time, it didn’t seem that bad, just rain. |
| Says the woman in the Mercedes G-Wagon who sits high above cars and even other SUVs. Anyway, I can still remember it like it was yesterday … the rain’s pounding down, you’re behind me, we’re talking on the phone about the meeting, and suddenly you go from your normal conversational tone to sounding like what I imagine an air traffic controller would be like — very measured, very direct, very non-emotional. |
| I needed you to pay attention. I could see you were about to hit high water, and I knew my instructions would go against your natural instincts. You needed to keep giving the car gas, but ease up on the accelerator and, no matter what, not brake. |
| And gently “steer” around the cars you could see were stalled out in front of me. Then, you told me to keep saying these words out loud ... “keep it going, keep it going, keep it going.” And then you hung up on me. |
| I knew there was nowhere for you to pull over, and you were frightened. But, by giving you a “mantra” to say out loud, I hoped to focus you on the most critical thing you needed to do. I did not have the time to explain that keeping your foot on the gas, even if just a little, kept you moving forward and prevented water from entering the engine through the exhaust (tail) pipe. I could see past the water and knew you just needed to get through it to reach higher ground. |
| I felt like I was driving a bumper car at a carnival, trying to avoid all the other cars. Finally, a few minutes later, although it felt like an eternity, I was able to park on high ground. Where I stayed for hours, waiting for the water to recede so I could get home. Ever since, whenever I’m on the road during storms, I feel like I have a form of PTSD. Although I probably shouldn’t say that because it’s unfair to those, especially veterans, who truly have PTSD. |
| I understand you do not want to seem like you are diminishing the seriousness of PTSD, but you may have a mild form of it. However, I am not qualified to diagnose it. Nor do I know enough about it to speak intelligently. |
| Just the thought of high water is traumatic and causes me extreme stress. It’s an overwhelming feeling of not having control of a situation that could quickly become a life-or-death scenario. I can’t even imagine what soldiers must feel after seeing combat. They have to face battle day after day, month after month. And, often, year after year. And then they come home and often must fight an entirely different battle. |
| Not all people exposed to traumatic events develop PTSD, but they are more susceptible. In addition to combat exposure, events such as physical abuse or assault, sexual violence, mass shootings, natural disasters … it is a long list. |
| Wow, I never thought about it that way. Even more reason that we all need to be more sympathetic. And while I appreciate that we may not know the details of their story or situation, it shouldn’t stop us from being kind and understanding first, rather than immediately judging someone. |
| Technically, I think you mean empathetic. Regardless, we can all learn more about PTSD. And, mental illness. No one should ever have to suffer alone. We should let family and friends know that it is ok to not always be ok. And, that we are there if they need us. But, remember to always ask for permission before offering help or advice, and respect their wishes if they decline. |
| For someone whose default is being sarcastic, that was very warm and fuzzy. And calming. Similar to when you got me through that high water. And now, I know to recognize my fear, do my best to avoid situations that will trigger me, and, if unavoidable, find a mantra and try to stay calm. |
| Oh, and trust your instincts. Your gut told you not to go to Houston with me. |
| Now you tell me! |
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