Just last week, a friend texted the group chat to ask us if rain checks were still a thing because a woman at Whole Foods had never heard the term. This immediately led to all of us wondering if we were just old and out of touch. Now, admittedly, not knowing “rain check” is more reasonable than the cashier I had at Wegmans who was unfamiliar with both celery and an onion, but it still seemed odd — even more so when I checked the Whole Foods website and found an entire FAQ about rain checks.
As I understood it, a rain check started as the term for an actual baseball ticket stub for a rained-out game and then migrated into stores for things that are out of stock. Colloquially, “take a rain check” means delaying plans — which puts the delay in the hands of the person doing the delaying, when the entire concept came out of circumstances that are beyond anyone’s control.
While we came to New England for a September vacation to avoid the tourists, we did realize we’d be avoiding some of the more reliable and arguably better summer weather. Instead of sunshine, all of last week we were told to expect a nor’easter of sizable proportions. Jeff was actually unfamiliar with that term (he knew “rain check” though), and I guess growing up in Michigan doesn’t give you cause to learn about irrelevant weather patterns. And then, the storm came in full force on Friday, staying through the weekend.
I have a major fascination with storms and extreme weather — especially hurricanes and tornadoes. I just love any time Anderson Cooper is sent somewhere to report in a windbreaker while wind or water pummels his handsome face. There’s something about knowing that we can do whatever we want as humans, but the weather doesn’t care and can assert control whenever.
Normally, I’m watching this weather from many states away so I don’t experience the panic of running around and swapping screens for storm windows, bringing outside furniture in, and charging everything that can be charged and then some. We changed dinner plans from anything that needed the oven to pasta, tacos, and anything else we could make on the stovetop for fear that a power outage would last longer than an hour or two.
Since we’re at my dad’s house, I dutifully called him to track down candles, candleholders, and matches. This pained me to do because any time I call and ask him whether he has something hiding in a cupboard somewhere, it gives him one more reason to defend his hoarder status.
This storm didn’t get a name, but we were warned of incredibly high winds, constant rain, and all the inconveniences that come with those things. The Coast Guard said to “seek safe harbor,” and my weather app at one point had five active alerts: a gale warning, a coastal flood advisory, a high surf advisory, a high wind warning, and a small craft advisory. Not owning a small craft or planning on swimming, we were only mildly concerned about some of these.
Except, nothing really happened.
I mean, the rain came and the wind was over 50 mph with gusts over 60 mph. Harbormaster Sheila Lucey’s official quote on it all was: “[The storm] may not be remembered for how strong it was, but rather the duration of the wind and rain, which stretched over 72 hours.”
We drove down Saturday morning to look at the surf. The waves were enormous, but you could barely hear them crash over the whistle of the wind. Since we never lost power, the greatest inconvenience for several days was taking the dogs out and begging them to be quick. Pepper, who, for all her 14 years of life, has always hated even a single drop of water, suddenly wanted to play Gene Kelly and tap-dance in the rain.
Given just how hard it was to contain two geriatric ten-pound dogs in storm conditions, Jeff and I decided to divide and conquer. We each took one dog and tried to get it to be the efficient one while distracting it from the confusing wind (in Sam’s case) or the apparently appetizing rabbit poop (in both their cases). We ended up standing eight feet away from each other, trying to communicate, but between the rain and wind and the hoods up on our jackets and the feedback from the rain and wind on my hearing aids, neither of us could hear a word. I started to understand why boat captains are always using radios in major storms.
At one point, I did say that if one of them got loose and ran off, I would just let them go and let nature take its course. Fortunately, again, with all the aforementioned sounds, neither dog heard me.
I feel terrible for the 34 couples who had weddings scheduled for the island last weekend, and all of their guests who were trying to get here only for boats to be canceled starting on Wednesday. For all the buildup, the only casualties we experienced were two chipped nails from dealing with the storm windows, my love for the dogs, and one planned dinner with family friends. After four rounds of texts to figure out dinner plans that could work for everyone, we finally decided to cancel. I did not grieve.
Sometimes weather is the forcing mechanism for things to happen and not happen. A storm is an excuse for the best activity there is: reading under a blanket while all of the craziness stays outside your own walls. There’s an ease that comes with canceling plans when you don’t have to say “actually, I don’t want to see you” but rather can blame everything outside your control while maintaining the position that if circumstances were different you’d love to go.
My favorite needleminder reads “Lover of Canceled Plans,” but truthfully, I love canceled plans most when I don’t have to take the heat that comes with canceling. This storm gave me the original kind of rain check — the kind nobody has to ask for — and I’m in no hurry to cash it in.
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