Last week was one of those Weather Channel weeks, a stretch of days when natural forces in a distant location spoke volumes.

With our current instance it was Hurricane Dorian. It seemed like an unusual Atlantic hurricane event. We never knew exactly what to expect.

Dorian progressively worked its way up from a tropical storm to ever-increasing hurricane category ranks. Instead of passing the Bahamas on its way toward Florida, it struck squarely in the small island country. Dorian then stalled for a prolonged amount of time, which resulted in widespread devastation and more than two dozen fatalities.

Then it skirted the Atlantic coast off Florida’s eastern shore, moving north toward Georgia and the Carolinas. It did so with the possibility of another unexpected turn inland. That could have greatly changed the equation at particular locations for rain, wind and storm surge.

In some places it would have changed for the better. Others, unfortunately, would have situations in which an ominous storm forecast goes from bad to worse.

We don’t know much about hurricanes in the Upper Midwest. We just hear about them. That creates a sense of what an inland evacuation and/or waiting out a hurricane is probably like.

Sometimes specific examples lead to headlines. During the flurry of updates for the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in 2005, there were plenty of specific looks at the lives of individuals. It ranged from people trying to have some sort of daily routine in an overcrowded New Orleans Superdome to interest in the possible whereabouts of music legend Fats Domino.

Hurricanes lend themselves to the “where were you when” question that even many years later gets asked from time to time for major historical events.

One of my sharpest memories from prior news reporting goes back to 1992 when there was a need to make a local connection to the Hurricane Andrew devastation in south Florida. In one of my phone interviews I heard about how there was no way to get a motel room in Orlando and how they were booked as far north as Gainesville.

Questions sometimes come up as to whether or not hurricanes are truly worse than our heartland tornadoes. They’re more widespread and usually lead to more extensive needs for disaster help.

Still it all depends on if you happen to be in the path. A tornado goes from a watch to warnings within minutes. There’s sometimes barely enough time to get to a basement.

People have plenty of time to think about a hurricane that appears to be on the way. That could be good or bad, good because the preparation might lead to a sense of direction and a feeling of doing as much as possible to be ready.

It might be bad, though, in terms of not knowing. The “what ifs” and fear of the worst could easily cause distress before the storm even gets close.

Our flood disasters play out more like a hurricane system. The predicted crests can go up or down based on how each day of new rainfall unfolds. In each case even a slight change of circumstances could make the difference in how many homes or downtown buildings get inundated. The only thing that’s certain is that often weather conditions are the most ordinary topic in the world, the number one item on a list of standby subjects to talk about while waiting in line or when briefly seeing a familiar face.

Every once in a while, however, a major weather event takes center stage on the wide platform known as world news. It’s enough to make you and I pay close attention from more than a thousand miles away.

It’s also enough to make us slightly less comfortable from the safe vantage point of an armchair or a more precisely shaped posture chair in front of a computer screen.

We realize that people in the path face a crisis. We imagine their feelings of helplessness and uncertainty.

Just as importantly, there’s a hope that help needed in the aftermath will arrive as quickly as possible.

That’s a valuable first step toward any sizable disaster relief. It leads to a process in which millions of small contributions add up to a well-coordinated, effective plan to rebuild.