Born and raised in north central Pennsylvania but no longer dwelling there, my heart still finds its home in those hills. Within weeks of finishing my first round of college and post-college education and marrying, another woman entered into my life, unwanted and, in a sense, unannounced. Her name was Agnes. She was a hurricane – or what was left of one. She vented her fury on my homeland and left many parts of it devastated. Some of those places have not yet recovered some forty years later.
Three years later another woman poured her wrath upon the same land. Her name was Eloise. She was not quite as fierce as Agnes, but still she wreaked similar havoc upon my beloved hills and countryside.
Now and then in the intervening years other boys and girls of summer would take their aim and do their worst. Each time my heart grieved.
Recently Lee took his shot, and for most of my homeland he bested even Agnes. Luckily some preparations for his coming worked well. Major towns were spared the worst of his wrath, but the others were not so lucky.
These are towns and places in which I can trace my roots into the 1700′s. My family has called these valleys home for over two hundred years.
I look at pictures and listen to reports of the devastation again… “…while my guitar gently weeps”. (re: George Harrison).