David Spates "Therefore I Am" Published Dec. 13, 2005

A bit of hurricane info fits better than smarty-pants

Don't you hate it when facts get in the way of your fun? I was all set to write a smarty-pants column about how silly it is that we name hurricanes. We don't name tornadoes or blizzards or tsunamis, so why do we name hurricanes? Why do hurricanes get special treatment? If we're going to name hurricanes, let's at least give them scarier names. Maybe that's why those folks didn't leave the Gulf Coast before the storm hit: What's so frightening about Katrina? If it had been named Hurricane Spike or Hurricane Vinny, I guarantee there would have been fewer casualties.

Yeah, I would have gone on and on like that for a few paragraphs. Another column down and done.

Wait a second. Before I write a column about why it's so silly to name hurricanes, maybe I should do a few seconds' worth of research and actually find out why we name hurricanes. What a novel idea. I knew my bachelor's degree in journalism would come in handy some day.

According to the National Weather Service (I'm preparing to quote a credible source! My old professors would be so proud.), "Experience shows that the use of short, distinctive given names in written as well as spoken communications is quicker and less subject to error than the older more cumbersome latitude-longitude methods. These advantages are especially important in exchanging detailed storm information between hundreds of widely scattered stations, coastal bases and ships at sea."

Also, "The use of easily remembered names greatly reduces confusion when two or more tropical storms occur at the same time."

It seems perfectly sensible to me. What do I know about manning a coastal base or captaining a ship in the middle of the Atlantic? Nothing. If the National Weather Service says naming hurricanes has its advantages, I'm inclined to believe them. They've read a lot more barometers than I.

So now what do I do? How can I write a column if there's nothing to mock and ridicule?

Wait! Here's an off-the-wall thought. Perhaps I could write a column that's constructive and informative rather than sarcastic and accusatory. It goes against my grain a bit, but I'm willing to give it a try. I'll just yank my Virginia Tech parchment off the wall and start scribbling.
I need to take a deep breath. OK, here goes.

Atlantic tropical storms are named from a list created by the National Hurricane Center. In fact, next year's storms have already been named. You should bet your best friend a steak dinner that you can predict the name of 2006's first hurricane. Tell him it came to you in a dream. He might buy it.

"I dreamed last night that the first hurricane of the year will be named Alberto. And then I dreamed my dog looked like Linda Evans circa 1983. Pretty bizarre, huh?"

He'll be so thrown off by your Linda Evans dog that he won't think twice about taking the wager, and before long you'll be carving up a nice, thick T-bone.

The rest of 2006's hurricanes are: Beryl (no, I'm never met a Beryl either), Chris, Debby, Ernesto, Florence, Gordon, Helene, Isaac, Joyce, Kirk, Leslie, Michael, Nadine, Oscar, Patty, Rafael, Sandy, Tony, Valerie and William. As you can see, they go in alphabetical order. When they run out of names, they start using letter from the Greek alphabet: Alpha, Beta, Gamma and so on. You can even find out what names are lined up for 2007 to 2010. Some of my favorites are Felix and Pablo in '07; Dolly and Marco in '08; Larry in '09; and Hermine and Igor in '10.

They've been officially naming hurricanes since 1953, but until 1978 the practice was to name the storms solely after women. I guess the notion of equal rights cuts both ways.

If a storm is really bad, like Katrina, they retire the name. When I read the names and remember the destruction those storms caused, I understand why they put those names out to pasture: Andrew, Betsy, Carmen, Diane, Fifi (I know! Fifi?), Floyd, Hugo, Inez, Iris, Keith, and those are just a few of the worst. It's like a roll call of infamous serial killers.

Thankfully, or perhaps more accurately "tragically," my name was retired in 1979. I was 9 years old, and Hurricane David grew into one of the most intense storms ever to cross the Caribbean. It smashed into Dominica and the Dominican Republic Aug. 30 with 200 mph winds. It killed more than 1,200 and left 80,000 homeless. "Skipping through the Bahamas," USA Today chronicles, "David struck a glancing blow on Florida just north of the Gold Coast, tore across Cape Canaveral and then chewed its way up the East Coast on Sept. 6, downing trees and power lines well into New England."

Interesting? Informative? I thought so. Maybe it's OK to do a factual column from time to time. Besides, my smarty-pants are in the wash.

· · ·
David Spates is a Knoxville resident and Crossville Chronicle contributor whose column is published each Tuesday. He can be reached at davespates@tds.net