Out at sea.

Hurricane Sandy is 300 miles off the coast of Florida, and the wind has been blowing hard all day.  The sky is gray and gloomy.

300 miles away.

Now, that’s influence.

Some big storm.

I’m hoping it blows itself out and doesn’t hurt anybody.

It caused me to check into something, though, and I’ve discovered that one of the things I remember never happened.

I used to tell people that my fifth birthday party had to be cancelled because of a hurricane.  “And I think it was named Elaine,” I tell them.

I thought it was.

However, thanks to Google, I now know that Hurricane Elaine didn’t happen when I was five.  There have been quite a few storms named Elaine.  It’s just that none of them happened when I was five.

I’m absolutely sure my birthday party was canceled that year because of a hurricane.  Research shows which one, too, but I’m not going to tell you.  (Cyber-security.  I may have lost my punchline, but I don’t need to give up my birthdate to random readers.)

There’s some Sandy somewhere, though, who is going to have a birthday party canceled this week.  Let’s hope that’s the worst that happens.  She—or he—will have a good story to tell, at some point.

It’s just not my story.

Google should come with spoiler alerts.

I guess I’ve had that writer’s impulse to make a story better for a lot longer than I knew.  Can’t use that one anymore, though.

Oh, well.

What we lose in irony, we make up in veracity.

The truth will set you free.

And, sometimes, it will spoil a good story.