I lost my home in Hurricane Charley in Orlando in 2004. It was a seriously weakened storm by the time it hit us, but it came in from the Gulf, so there were tornadoes embedded in the eye wall. One of them hit my house. It picked it up and moved it 8 feet north and 4 feet west. And the only reason the house didn't explode is that two huge maple trees had already fallen over onto the roof, providing 100,000 pounds of stabilizing lumber and preventing the roof from being torn off. Then it started raining in earnest. My house was the highest for about 1/4 of a mile around, so people started coming, despite the condition of this place -- followed by rats and roosting birds. No power. Then a day later, the EMS teams arrived. They condemned the house, but said they wouldn't evict me as the others and I had no way to go. Then they asked me if they could take my pick-up truck. I said yes, of course, and they had it for the next three weeks, ferrying old folks out of the back areas cut off by swamped dirt roads. I would see the people go by in my truck, and the fire department guys would wave. The worst week was the second week: I heard two gunshots, seconds apart. The old man in the neighborhood -- who lived with a daughter and son-in-law who didn't want to be taking care of him and treated him incredibly coldly -- shot his dog and then himself. He and the dog were inseparable, and he seems to feel that the dog would be far too traumatized to live without him. It went on interminably. We were without power for six weeks. When it was over, I went to the local Publix supermarket and asked to the see the manager. When he came out, I told him I was staggered by how well he and he staff managed to keep us in food and water and baby food and formula and diapers and soap for all this time. And he all but cried. He said they were BEGGING for supplies, calling Texas, calling California, calling Canada to get us even palettes or water and protein bars and disinfectants and Band-aids and aspirin and batteries. He said people would come into the store and if he didn't have something, they'd scream at the staff of collapse into tears in the middle of the aisles. ... Eventually they bulldozed my place as it posed a risk to neighboring houses because another hurricane was coming, and this time, for sure, the roof and walls would collapse, and the wind-drive debris from my house might destroy another house might kill somebody. As I looked on, I realized all I had left was my books and my family heirlooms -- the books had been in the only room at the back of the house not damaged and I had put my family heirlooms and photographs and the Bible my grandmother gave me in the freezer of the refrigerator and taped it shut with duct tape--and the computer I took with me when I evacuated. It was enough. I could live without everythin else. So as I watched them bulldoze my home, a 6'4" strapping FEMA guy put his arm around my shoulder and held onto me while I cried. And then a bitch from the neighborhood said, "Well, you're life's over! You've lost everything!" And I said, "No, I'm going to move to DC. I'm going to go back to school and get a Ph.D. I'm going to be a writer and a college professor. And I'm going to be happier than I've ever been before in my life." And the mountain of a FEMA guy looked at me and said, "Yes, ma'am, you are. You're going to make it." And I just looked at him and smiled. I shot the bitch the bird, got in my truck, moved to a tiny interim trailer, and snuggled with the cats. The next month, I moved to DC, started back to school, got my Ph.D. ... and ...
I am so moved, on so many, many, many levels that I can't respond adequately. All I can say is: you're AMAZING!!! Thank you so much for telling your story. You are a fabulous writer! I feel like I was there with you. And what a fabulous story about how you decided to get your PhD with Charley as your catalyst! BTW, you were beyond brilliant to store your heirlooms in your freezer and tape it up. I have never heard of anyone doing that before. (I'm in Charleston, so Hugo was our trauma. I lived out in the country, so had no power for three months. It took two years for all the roofs to be repaired. And now, 35 years later, many trees are here taking the place of the millions of trees that were destroyed by Hugo. Not the beautiful live oaks, though. We lost 90% of them.) P.S. I didn't realize that you are a woman until now! Also, I didn't know what you had your PhD in. What a spectacular field! I feel like I really "know" you now.
My heart breaks for the sick, the poor and the elderly. The rescue crews are phenomenal.
I lost my home in Hurricane Charley in Orlando in 2004. It was a seriously weakened storm by the time it hit us, but it came in from the Gulf, so there were tornadoes embedded in the eye wall. One of them hit my house. It picked it up and moved it 8 feet north and 4 feet west. And the only reason the house didn't explode is that two huge maple trees had already fallen over onto the roof, providing 100,000 pounds of stabilizing lumber and preventing the roof from being torn off. Then it started raining in earnest. My house was the highest for about 1/4 of a mile around, so people started coming, despite the condition of this place -- followed by rats and roosting birds. No power. Then a day later, the EMS teams arrived. They condemned the house, but said they wouldn't evict me as the others and I had no way to go. Then they asked me if they could take my pick-up truck. I said yes, of course, and they had it for the next three weeks, ferrying old folks out of the back areas cut off by swamped dirt roads. I would see the people go by in my truck, and the fire department guys would wave. The worst week was the second week: I heard two gunshots, seconds apart. The old man in the neighborhood -- who lived with a daughter and son-in-law who didn't want to be taking care of him and treated him incredibly coldly -- shot his dog and then himself. He and the dog were inseparable, and he seems to feel that the dog would be far too traumatized to live without him. It went on interminably. We were without power for six weeks. When it was over, I went to the local Publix supermarket and asked to the see the manager. When he came out, I told him I was staggered by how well he and he staff managed to keep us in food and water and baby food and formula and diapers and soap for all this time. And he all but cried. He said they were BEGGING for supplies, calling Texas, calling California, calling Canada to get us even palettes or water and protein bars and disinfectants and Band-aids and aspirin and batteries. He said people would come into the store and if he didn't have something, they'd scream at the staff of collapse into tears in the middle of the aisles. ... Eventually they bulldozed my place as it posed a risk to neighboring houses because another hurricane was coming, and this time, for sure, the roof and walls would collapse, and the wind-drive debris from my house might destroy another house might kill somebody. As I looked on, I realized all I had left was my books and my family heirlooms -- the books had been in the only room at the back of the house not damaged and I had put my family heirlooms and photographs and the Bible my grandmother gave me in the freezer of the refrigerator and taped it shut with duct tape--and the computer I took with me when I evacuated. It was enough. I could live without everythin else. So as I watched them bulldoze my home, a 6'4" strapping FEMA guy put his arm around my shoulder and held onto me while I cried. And then a bitch from the neighborhood said, "Well, you're life's over! You've lost everything!" And I said, "No, I'm going to move to DC. I'm going to go back to school and get a Ph.D. I'm going to be a writer and a college professor. And I'm going to be happier than I've ever been before in my life." And the mountain of a FEMA guy looked at me and said, "Yes, ma'am, you are. You're going to make it." And I just looked at him and smiled. I shot the bitch the bird, got in my truck, moved to a tiny interim trailer, and snuggled with the cats. The next month, I moved to DC, started back to school, got my Ph.D. ... and ...
You are an amazing person, you were a victim but you refuse to act like a victim. Kudos
I am so moved, on so many, many, many levels that I can't respond adequately. All I can say is: you're AMAZING!!! Thank you so much for telling your story. You are a fabulous writer! I feel like I was there with you. And what a fabulous story about how you decided to get your PhD with Charley as your catalyst! BTW, you were beyond brilliant to store your heirlooms in your freezer and tape it up. I have never heard of anyone doing that before. (I'm in Charleston, so Hugo was our trauma. I lived out in the country, so had no power for three months. It took two years for all the roofs to be repaired. And now, 35 years later, many trees are here taking the place of the millions of trees that were destroyed by Hugo. Not the beautiful live oaks, though. We lost 90% of them.) P.S. I didn't realize that you are a woman until now! Also, I didn't know what you had your PhD in. What a spectacular field! I feel like I really "know" you now.