Normally, I do movie reviews; many may consider me a cinephile. However, with the power knocked out and our coverage area in chaos, I was able to take a break from films and enjoy the world around me. Obviously, that is all tongue in cheek. However, the aftermath of Idalia has made me put a lot of thought into Florida.
The day before:
The day before Idalia, we made small preparations, my family and I, by gathering some water, some gas and some extra food. However, up until now, we had never dealt with a hurricane of this magnitude, so we simply deemed it would be another disappointment. Once the evacuation order was sent out, my father, pastor of Community Presbyterian Church, opened up the church that night for those who needed to evacuate in our congregation. I stayed home, fully expecting to wake up the next morning and head into work.
Idalia hits:
I woke up around 9 a.m. and was instantly concerned. Why had my alarm not gone off? Now I am going to be late for work. I headed to the living room, and that's when I see them: trees bending, our entire yard covered in debris. It wasn't until later I would find out we were some of the luckier ones. The power was gone, and I sat with my infant son, my wife and my family on the front porch watching Idalia tear through the town. After a few attempts to forage past the hurricane to see how bad the damage was closer to town, I headed inside to wait it out. The generators were hooked up and we had wifi and the fridges going. While I expected the power to be back on that evening, my wife and son left for her mom's where there was air conditioning. The power didn't come back on that evening, nor the next day. It was just endless heat until, at midnight, suddenly I heard the beep of an air conditioner turn on and saw the bathroom light turn on from under the door. I was elated, but sitting in the heat had given me much time to think and to explore the aftermath of Idalia.
The aftermath:
In the tri-county area, we aren't used to hurricanes, not the way that those down south are. They normally are just fairly powerful rainstorms when they hit us. Idalia was different. We hadn't seen something like her in a long, long time. As I drove around town, I could see powerline after powerline on the ground, house after house with trees in their yards and on their roofs. I spoke to a gas station attendant at Howland's, who told me they had already had multiple people steal gas in a panic. My own grandmother had to hide in her bathtub with a hard hat on in fear of her safety, as Idalia had ripped through Dowling Park. But the things that I saw didn't stop there. In fact, in my journey around town to view the aftermath, I saw so many beautiful things. Lines upon lines of cars, but not a single person cutting anybody off, just letting one person at a time enter into the line, even from side streets. I saw people on the phone, concerned, then smiling and laughing as they discovered that their loved ones are okay. Neighbors helping neighbors clean up yards and houses and recover. Law enforcement working 24/7 to get everyone the help they need. Linemen lined the streets in their bucket trucks, chopping trees and fixing power lines to help everyone get back to normal. Emergency shelters opened with food, showers and water for those in need. I saw true community in the Idalia aftermath. People banded together. It didn't matter who the person was. Everyone was in the same spot and knew taking advantage of others wouldn't help anyone. There was an unspoken agreement throughout the community that it was time to join together and help everyone around you, no matter your situation or theirs. This truly begs the question: is post-hurricane Florida the best kind of Florida there is? A Florida where community and kindness thrive? And how can we keep this behavior and community when all the cleaning up is done?