A HARRIED HURRICANE SEASON! 

The whirlwind known as Irma began stirring in the Cape Verde Islands off the coast of Africa long before she made a landing in my home state of Florida. She cajoled and teased her way through the Atlantic, sending waves of palpable fear to all who were in her path. Those of us who have chosen the beautiful peninsula of Florida to be our home, knew all to well that we had twelve-years of relatively low anticipatory anxiety about a major hurricane reaching our shores. The exception was last year in 2016 when Matthew decided at the last minute not to be a direct hit, perhaps a harbinger of things to come! We became quickly reacquainted with the annual angst that is called “Hurricane Season!” Once you’ve been through several as we have…the memory can be quickly reawakened.

Living in hurricane prone area requires a sense of readiness and acute awareness. Our home was stocked with batteries, storm shutters that we could close by hand, a battery-operated radio for local weather reports and announcements, extra water, ice-packs in the freezer to maintain the chests that would hold any perishables, powdered milk, sufficient propane for our grill, car tanks filled with gas, canned foods, freshly cleaned clothes and linen, written materials that discussed evacuation routes and shelters, and perhaps the most important of all, was for each family to make the decision to stay or evacuate. 

We became aware of the earliest reports of Irma’s potential in late August when she was identified as a tropical wave off of the Cape Verde Islands. There was certainly trepidation, as Hurricane Harvey had landed in the Houston area causing severe rain and unrelenting flooding less than a week before. Somehow this wasn’t feeling like a quiet season, and of course that turned out to be true.

We listened intently to NOAA’s (National Oceanic And Atmospheric Center) Hurricane reports: the 8:00 am, 11:00 am, 2:00 pm and so on. These update report times became mandatory listening; we took each twist and turn of Irma’s path to be of great concern. In 2004 and 2005, the state was hit with a slew of hurricanes: Jeanne, Frances, Charlie, and Wilma, each one having its own unique signature. Some were rain-filled events, some stalled, some twisted and turned in loops and seemed more like gymnasts then events of nature, and some shook the leaves from many of the beautiful old-growth trees that are the hallmark of the area we live in. Irma had something different; she had ferocious intensity. Eyebrows were raised when we heard the forecaster say, “She’s now up to a category 5,” wait a minute I thought, didn’t she just come off the African coast about five days ago? Irma made landfall in Barbuda, Saint Barthélemy, Saint Martin, Anguilla, the Virgin Islands of Saint Thomas and St. John, and Cuba causing havoc in her wake. Trees were denuded of their leaves, flooding was prominent, roofs battered, homes destroyed, and lives were lost. Just tragic!

We watched the television intently, and all eyes were transfixed on the circulating swath of wind and clouds that made up her cyclonic energy; hearts would temporarily stop, as we knew that Florida was in her path. It doesn’t take long for a near panic to set in: should we stay or go??? Long waits at gas lines, plywood in short supply, water no longer available on the shelves, and the television blaring its list of closings – schools out till??? Shelters open on??? Curfew from 10 pm to 7 am!

Our two sons live in Florida, our youngest in the Naples area, which sustained a near direct, hit due to its closeness to Marco Island, and our older son and his family who live close by. The son in Naples decided to stay, and our other son left to be with friends in another state. We decided to stay! We did every thing we humanly could to put ourselves in a comfortable position, at 74 & 85 years old respectively, we figured we had a lot of expertise between us, which proved to be true. We learned a lot about hurricanes those dreadful hours before Irma struck – her pressure in millibars, how eyewalls had their replacement cycles, and how the best forecasters can’t tell exactly where a hurricane will make land, until they actually do. On Saturday, September 10^th, Irma landed twice in Florida, first in Cudjoe Key and then on Marco Island; she was so large that both the East & West coasts felt her fury.

We were in our home hunkered down, flashlights and radio ready for use, trying to be as “normal” as we could. We went ahead with our dinner, turned on the television, and waited for the power to go off. It is an eerie feeling being in a darkened home that is completely covered by shutters, but one can become used to it especially when you know it’s for your safety. Thankfully, our son and daughter-in-law who remained in Naples kept in close contact with us for as long as they could via iPhone messaging – they stayed with neighbors who had a two-story home, as they were afraid of potential flooding, which actually turned out not to be so bad in their immediate area.

We wore earplugs when we went to sleep, as the wind and gale and debris falling on the shutters and the sides of our home made it difficult to sleep. I remember looking up at the ceiling when I woke up the next morning to see the ceiling fan still working; we never did lose power, which may be because we are on the same grid as our local utility company. We went through many hours not knowing if our son and daughter-in-law were o.k. The worry is huge: did they lose their roof? What is it like outside once we open the shutters?? How long will the power last?? How did our neighbors fare in the terrible storm??

The post-hurricane anxiety is different than the pre. In the pre-hurricane hours it’s about scurrying about, sometimes frantically to prepare or evacuate as best as you can; in the post it’s the anticipation of all the losses that may have occurred. Both sides of the hurricane demand a lot of an individual; storms can bring out the best and the worst of us! In both the before and the aftermath of Irma the usage of social media when available was an amazing source of support. The local paper created a web page where all in the county could share information with each other: Does anyone know where I can get water? Which shelter can I take my pet to? There’s a neighbor who is alone, can anyone look in on him? I’m anxious, is anyone else feeling the same way? Thank you to a local weatherman who did an outstanding job of keeping everyone informed. I have a newfound respect for the connectivity that social media offered us.

As we emerged from our sheltered cocoon, we realized that our immediate community was spared the worst. Most of us had their power remain with the exception of cable and Internet. Yes, we had a great deal of limb and tree debris, and roof tile damage, but the neighborhood disaster committee did their checks and all residents were deemed to be o.k. It was outside of our neighborhood that we heard many stories of difficult and horrific situations: There were fatalities among the elderly in Long-Term-Care facilities from heat exhaustion; Trees fell on roofs and caused severe damage; millions were without power, and flooding on the East and West coast of the state was severe in places. We were placed under a curfew; something I don’t remember happening before, which was a wise move given the need for the utilities and emergency providers to do their work.

Here we are two weeks after our uninvited guest Irma plowed her way to so many different shores; I’m just beginning to be able to look at NOOA’s reporting of hurricane Maria and her devastation. I have the deepest empathy for all those who have been devastated by her path: Dominica, The Virgin Islands, and Puerto Rico, have all sustained harm. Knowing what I went through with Irma, it would have been very challenging for me if I knew that I had to bear another hit so soon.

Someone might ask how is it you remain in Florida given it is prone to hurricanes? I admit, while I’m in the middle of preparations I might ask myself the same thing, but soon after the last winds ruffle the trees about; I return to the reason that I moved here almost twenty-five years ago: Seeing blue herons on wing fly over your car as you drive about; sunrises and sunsets that are extraordinary; the bluest of blue skies with the greenest of green trees everywhere you go, flowers that bloom all year long (Hibiscus, geraniums, gardenias, begonias, bougainvillea, and orchids); rainbows that form after a morning rain; and mostly an unmatched sense of freedom that comes with living in a sub-tropical climate.

The season isn’t over yet, but somehow we’ll get through it, sustained by what life is like here on a peninsula that can best be described as: "The best place I’ve ever lived, hurricanes included!"

© Copyright 2017 Myra Wexler Darwish:

Posted: 9/24/2017