I am a native Floridian. 

I know how to wear SPF 100+ sunscreen and weather a hurricane with nothing more than a mattress and some ice blocks.

Lord help me if we ever get stationed above the Mason-Dixon Line, though.

Groton, Conn. is one such option in our fairly near future. I quake at the thought of it. Not because I actually loathe the idea of living in New England. I’m not even afraid of the cold.

But because I don’t have the faintest idea how to drive in snow.  

A few years back, when we were stationed in Charleston, S.C., and the city endured a crisis-level ice storm, I really thought I might be done for. 

I had no idea how to break my car free of its ice sheath. I had no idea how to drive it once it was free. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to go to work or not.

I was confused. Why was the governor declaring a state of emergency if we still had power and heat?  Then, there was my dog – my giant, Floridian dog, who gave himself a UTI because he refused to pee on the ice rink that we had formally called our backyard simply because the sound of the ice cracking as he stepped on it freaked him out.

Now, down here in sunny, almost-always-warm Georgia, I laugh when the commands do their mandatory hurricane-preparedness seminars in May.  And then I quickly encourage all my fellow military spouses to attend, as most are from the landlocked lands of Ohio, Illinois, Idaho, or Nebraska. They didn’t grow up surviving Hurricane Andrew like I did.

So it came as no shock to me that, last week, the threat of snow and black-ice on the roads sent southeast Georgia into a tizzy. We watched Atlanta shut down as the snow fell and, before we knew it, the stores were packed. No one could find milk or bread, even at a gas station.  Schools were cancelled and the local government officials stayed home too.

Meanwhile, all those military families with northern origins laughed. They giggled at the thought of Georgians panicking at the idea of driving in weather that was below freezing.

But that’s because they’ve never seen Southerners drive on ice. White-knuckling it doesn’t even begin to describe the paralyzing fear you experience watching senior citizens, soccer moms and high-school seniors drive on slick, frozen roads. 

Add to the mix the military spouses that populate this military town? Well, a hurricane doesn’t look so treacherous after all.

I have always loved the mix of Americana we experience living in military towns.  After all, I get to eat Buckeyes, cheesesteaks and deep-dish, Chicago-style pizza all the way down here in Georgia.

But when the weather gets wacky, the chaos, the fear and confusion all seems amplified in the mix.
It really does become the perfect storm.