Humanity in Togetherness of Waiting for A Cat 5 Hurricane

We long-time Floridians know the pre-hurricane drill, and as much as we have physical prep things to do, the emotional worries consume more of our energy. The world knows that some photographer will get the prized shot of a boat on top of what used to be someone’s home, but the new and stronger enemy is flooding, moving tragically all the way up to North Carolina.

My family and I live just north of Orlando and we are directly in the path of Milton, a new name to most of our vocabularies that we will now repeat hundreds of times. We will have very high winds that result in down trees, down electrical lines, and twelve-foot high piles of tree debris that will likely sit and rot on our curbs for weeks. Our many lakes will overflow into homes whose owners paid a premium for their lakefront views.

Hurricanes always hit us at night, never in daylight. Opening the door that next morning brings the hope/fear of which trees are down…and did they crush our cars.

But we don’t have an immediately-nearby ocean nor a gulf which brings with it a ten-foot-plus surge of the seas. Many of you know my colleague Sherri Merbach who lives on a picturesque canal in St. Petersburg. Two weeks ago hurricane Helene sent her five inches of water inside, so husband and construction-expert Paul immediately removed the floors and the bottom two feet of drywall, while also finding enough fans to dry out what remained. New drywall is already hard to find.

Sherri and her labradoodle Oakley have been staying since with friends who live more inland. What will be left of their home 48 hours from now?

Our marketing director CJ Higginbotham lives with her husband on a boat, now secured near Jacksonville. But they’ve spent the last few days driving across Florida to help friends dig out from their water-riddled home in that same St. Petersburg region. Another re-do is apparently on the way.

But two warm thoughts penetrate the fear. The first is that for most of us the loss will be just stuff, and that we will physically survive despite the hundreds who are tragically dead or missing from hurricane Helene.

And the second is what I saw at Home Depot last night, beginning with a packed parking lot and ending with long lines of customers buying sheets of plywood to board up their businesses and homes. But they brought happy faces, were top-of-their-games polite and helpful to others, and somehow found joy by being in the presence of others who felt their same trepidations. And temporarily placing their worries to the side, these emergency shoppers were busy instead in a physical way by protecting themselves and those they love.

There was a warmth there that I didn’t want to leave. But I had things that had to get done.