February 5, 2019 (Tuesday)
Fog has dominated the weather scene in these parts recently.
Sunday morning as I drove to church, fog was thicker than I’ve seen it in this area for several years. On Monday evening, it was even thicker. And this morning visibility was ZERO!
The fog has reminded me of our family’s move to Rockport in 1964. The moving van left Dallas, bound for Rockport, and my family and I followed, taking a detour in Houston, where we spent the night with my parents, intending to get up early Saturday morning and drive to Rockport, where we would meet the movers and give them directions on the placement of furniture in our new home, the Baptist parsonage near the church. When we got up, very early, and began the drive, we determined that the fog was too thick to continue. We could barely see beyond the hood ornament on our car, so we slowly but surely found a place to turn around and return to my parents’ home, with the idea that the fog would soon lift and we could get under way again to our new home in Rockport. The fog lingered, and when it finally began to lift, half the morning had come and gone. I called A.G. Gardner, chairman of the Pulpit Committee, and explained why we had not shown up. His reply was, “It’s perfectly clear here and all up and down the coast.” When we finally arrived at the Rockport house, the movers were long gone and members of the church, who had placed t he furniture where they thought it ought to go, had done a great job. We spent the night in our new home and went to church the next day, which fell on Sunday. The date was November 1.
Fog is a common occurrence in this neck of the woods during some years, and virtually non-existent in other years. There have been stories to tell because of the fog, like the retired super market owner from Oklahoma who lived with his wife in Key Allegro, which had only about 9 houses in it when we moved here. They were a beautiful couple and a great addition to our church family.
Well, he went out fishing all by himself one afternoon and a thick fog soon covered the area. He had no way of knowing where he was, but kept moving, hopefully toward land. At about 3:00 a.m. he hit land on the Rockport beach. A car was there, and a beautiful young lady in it. He explained his plight, and she offered to drive him home. Meanwhile, at his Key Allegro home, friends and neighbors had gathered to comfort his wife in the disappearance of her husband. When he got out of the car with a beautiful young lady at the wheel, many of the people who had gathered at his home found it hard to believe his story about the fog. Poor guy. But don’t worry about him; he came out all right and soon his friends stopped teasing him.
A young man from Indiana came by our house one day during one of those very foggy years. He said, “We came down here for the winter last year, and the weather was beautiful. The fishing was great, so I told friends and relatives about Rockport. At my suggestion, this was their winter destination this year, and it has been cloudy and foggy and cold sometimes.” He said it in accusatory tones, with anger on his face, as if I were somehow responsible for the weather. He and his family kept coming each year and we became good friends. But he was really angry that day when he complained about the weather.
It was comforting to know for sure in my heart that I was not responsible for his disappointment.