After the Storm

Frederic. Erin. Opal. Ivan. Dennis. Sally (that girl)

No-not names of kids in my son’s homeroom. They are the major hurricanes that have hit “home” in my lifetime. When questioned why I live where I do (because of the storm-prone location), I typically say things like, “usually there are many years in between big bad hurricanes,” “it is a tradeoff for living on the beautiful Gulf Coast,” and “the coolest part of a hurricane is seeing the good that comes from rebuilding when the community bands together.” All still ring true; however, the past week has been tough. 

September 16th is my husband’s birthday (aka Hurricane Day). In 2004, when Hurricane Ivan hit, we were not yet married and he evacuated. I stayed and the street I lived on in the aftermath looked like the worst picture you’ve seen x10. My Dad had 3 feet of water in his house and had a heart attack a few days after while cleaning up. Thankfully, he recovered. Still, it wasn’t a great time. The organization I worked for brought in grief counselors as many lived in impacted areas, lost their homes, and then had to drive through the devastation every day. 

Fast forward 16 years on the 16th-and we have Sally. She was not supposed to come to Pensacola. She was forecasted as a Category 1-nothing to really worry about. The predictions said New Orleans and were thinking of and praying for Louisiana. There are people still reeling from Katrina many years ago and, most recently, Laura who hit Lake Charles. Sally made landfall just to the west of us, putting us in the northeast quadrant-the bad side. She was very slow-moving at an average of 2-3 mph which meant she dumped 25+ inches of rain and the sustained 75+mph winds were blowing for an unusually long period of time. While recorded as a strong Category 2, she was very close to a Cat 3. The storm surge was 5-6 feet and our dock and pool took a major beating. We had water up to the front door as well as on the water side. A little too close for comfort, but we are fortunate to have only minimal damage.   

Focusing on the positives: 

•       Very few people died in the storm (a true miracle if you’ve seen pictures). 
•     My family, friends, and everyone I have spoken with are physically ok. Some still have scars you can’t see from prior hurricanes, which comes with the territory. We have excellent counseling resources in our city and many who can relate. 
•     The water rose very high at our home and my Dad’s about 5 miles south of us in the downtown area. As we all braced for high tide, counting the minutes and not being able to get news, the winds and water shifted and receded. Just in time. The cell service was spotty at best. When his call came through to tell me what he was seeing, the relief in his voice was palpable, and I’m pretty sure I cried happy tears.  
•    My husband and two neighbors took a break from cleaning their own yards, took up their chainsaws and a tractor, and leaped at the chance to help a neighbor remove a fallen tree from her car. She cried too-more happy tears of gratitude. 
•    That same neighbor works in healthcare as a clinician. He was off on Wednesday and after the storm, he and his family (his wife is also an occupational therapist) worked all day long to clean up. Then, selflessly they invited us to dinner and cooked “birthday dinner.”  Not the fun night out we had planned, but via candlelight with our families, doors and windows open, it was perfect. He won’t forget this one. 
•    Other healthcare friends were at the local hospitals working and making sure the community was/is supported. Even when their own homes were in the path, they were caring for others. Amazing.
•    The power came back on a few days ago, shortly after I checked into a hotel 50 miles away to work. My husband said if I hadn’t gone, it would be the four days he predicted. Sort of like if you have your umbrella it won’t rain, but if it’s at home or in your car, it will pour. Florida facts.  
•    While we had power, most of our neighbors did not. My husband organized a cul-de-sac cookout/fish fry Friday night so that everyone could use the thawed-out food they had. All brought chairs for distancing and we sat with our families and had fellowship with many from our street, including a few we had only seen in passing.  
•   My colleagues at Kingsley Gate Partners have been supremely supportive. I learned the storm had turned from my partner in Louisiana. We had been trading messages, and I was concerned for him given the last track I had seen. He checked on me several times, as did the CEOs and so many others.  I’m new to the firm but feel like I have been part of the family much longer. One person offered me their home; another offered to send me solar-powered lights. Colleagues from Israel, India, Iberia and beyond are there for me. 

I’m reminded of a quote that I saw last week from Japanese author Haruki Murakami. Just a week ago, I thought of it in the context of Covid19 and what we have all experienced:

And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.

Today I think of it in a different way. My warmest thanks to those who have reached out and offered prayers and support.  Pensacola is strong and still quite beautiful. I suggest visiting (give it about six months) as the comeback will be incredible.