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On October 29th, worst
fears were realized as Hurricane Sandy took aim at the densely populated
Eastern Seaboard of the U.S. Those of us who had been in their shoes time and
time again held our collective breaths; praying that everyone would heed
warnings and do all possible to stay safe.
Unfortunately the best laid plans
are no match against a huge storm like Sandy who eloped with an
approaching system from the West. The results had disaster
written all over it.
As we watch the rescue and cleanup
efforts unfold, I’m reminded what happened during the time that Hurricane
Charley came to Florida in August of 2004.
Charley was nowhere as large as
Sandy, but it was packing winds in a super tight center that made a nuclear
bomb seem like a kiddie sparkler.
The storm was pointed at Tampa Bay,
which had been my home for 39 years. And for the first time, it looked like we
weren’t going to get a glancing blow.
At first the ensuing panic was the
typical; beach and mobile home evacuations and nervous preparations for those of us who always stayed
behind. The usual folks stocked up on liquor for hurricane parties.
Suddenly the storm went from a mere
tropical storm over Key West to a category four.
The level of fear all around us was
unlike anything I’d ever experienced in my life. Bridge closings, discussion of
shutting off all power to the area to avoid irreparable damage to the power
grid from the storm surge as well as reports of what we could expect when it
came onshore; Charley was on his way and we couldn’t do anything more than
hunker down and wait for him like sitting ducks.
Then without warning the storm wobbled and took
a turn toward Punta Gorda and Port Charlotte; a few hours south of us. It
caught everyone by surprise.
The aftermath could only be
described as a war zone.
Two friends, Alfred and Jeannine
joined the relief effort. Their accounts were sobering and heart breaking. As
they spoke they were numb. Some experiences can’t be put into words.
Shortly after the storm, I wrote an article for our local
newspaper entitled “Life After Charley” which is pasted below. We owe a more
than we could ever repay to those who selflessly give of themselves to those in
need.
If you would like to help the victims of disaster, it’s as
easy as contacting the American Red Cross at
www.redcross.org, call (800) 733-2767 or text the word REDCROSS to 90999 to
make a $10 donation.
Life After Charley
“It felt like an out of body experience. We were in total shock.”
That was how my friend Jeannine Stanford described her
initial reaction, when she and husband Alfred arrived in devastated Punta Gorda
FL. The Stanfords are longtime residents
of the Tampa Bay area in Central Florida, where Hurricane Charley was
originally expected to make landfall on August 13, 2004. After the storm passed, Alfred and fellow
members of the Clearwater Jaycees immediately contacted FEMA (Federal Emergency
Management Agency) to obtain necessary credentials to help those who weren’t so
lucky.
However, nothing could mentally prepare them for what they
found there.
“As soon as we got off the interstate, we saw a lot of
toppled trees,” Jeannine reported.
Not long after that, their eyes began wandering over a
virtual sea of destruction.
“It looked like a nuclear bomb had gone off. House after
house, building after building was completely obliterated. Alfred and
I wept uncontrollably. I snapped
some photos to show our friends at home what Tampa Bay could have expected if
Charley had come our way. But I realized
after shooting a single roll of film, that there wasn’t much to distinguish one
pile of rubble from another. A single photograph could have told the whole
story.”
Most disturbing was witnessing dazed residents sorting
through the vestiges of their lives, contemplating the loss of all that was
once familiar, and trying to make sense of what was left.
And Mother Nature had seen to it that those responding to
their needs didn’t have an easy time of it.
Street signs were gone. With few remaining landmarks to
guide them, FEMA representatives, news media, and volunteer law enforcement
from other Florida counties were having difficulty getting where they were
going, as most were unfamiliar with the area.
Jeannine and Alfred had the same problem.
“If one road looked clear, we’d inevitably come to a pile of
rubble blocking the way. If we turned
around, it was easy to forget what direction we came from, and we’d end up on
another blocked road. If we weren’t
careful, we’d find ourselves trapped in a hellish maze.”
Even summer thunderstorms posed a threat to wind-weakened
structures.
“We were driving along, when lightning struck a power pole
beside the road. It fell onto the
adjacent pole which caused five more to fall against each other like dominoes”
Alfred said ruefully.
The Stanfords discovered another frustrating wrinkle. While passing through one rural neighborhood,
they found a Hispanic family camping in a tent in front of their collapsed
home. Emergency personnel hadn’t found them yet. Their car was destroyed during
the storm, so they lacked transportation to seek out assistance. Jeannine
related their story.
“The parents didn’t speak English, so their 5-year-old
daughter translated for us. We gave them
ice and orange juice, along with whatever else we had in the van that they
might use. But we couldn’t tell them how to obtain additional help because of
the language barrier, as well as a 5-year-old child’s limited capacity to
translate the information. FEMA had no
foreign language brochures for us to hand out during the early days of the
rescue. So we did the best we could for them at the time, and hoped we could
find our way back to bring more help.”
The one positive amidst so much tragedy was the immense
generosity of the American people. Huge caravans of semi-trucks began arriving
soon after the last gust of wind loaded with water, batteries, food, diapers,
as well as personal hygiene and feminine products. One 18-wheeler displayed a huge banner on
both sides of its trailer that read “From Louisiana to Florida With Love.”
The outpouring of help stunned many Punta Gorda
residents.
“There was no electricity, so there weren’t any links to the
outside world. Other than the
President’s initial visit, people couldn’t be certain that anyone else knew
what happened to them until the relief trucks started rolling in” said
Jeannine.
The losses affecting children were particularly heart
breaking.
“One disappointed little boy was facing his sixth birthday
without a present, until he was given a Beanie Baby from someone’s Happy Meal.
His face lit up like a Christmas tree. It’s amazing how one little toy can
bring happiness to a child who has nothing left.” Jeannine explained. “I saw
another two year old boy with both hands wrapped in thick bandages. His mother
explained that during the worst part of the storm, they’d sought shelter in a
closet. Suddenly the roof blew off, and the wind began pulling her son out of
her arms. She held onto his legs for dear life, as he reached out to grab
something to hold onto. Unfortunately
what he reached for was a broken mirror that nearly severed both of his hands.”
Keeping a stiff upper lip in the face of tremendous loss was
hard for Alfred and Jeannine. Both
reported having difficulty sleeping while in Punta Gorda despite their extreme
exhaustion.
“Every time we closed our eyes, all we could see was
suffering. The first night I didn’t get to sleep until about 6 am. I kept thinking how Charley was supposed to
be our storm,” said Jeannine.
That’s a comment that many residents of Tampa Bay could
relate to. A lot of folks I’ve spoken to
have suffered a profound sense of survivor’s guilt. Like me, they grieve for those who took a blow
that seemed intended for us. And I am in
awe of those in the trenches aiding the victims like Jeannine and Alfred,
relief soldiers in a meteorological war zone.
Michelle Close Mills ©
