Sunday, September 29, 2024

The Witch Helene

I have written a great deal about hurricanes. Some might see in that an attraction to them. The opposite is true. I have spent decades worrying about these monsters as they potentialize in the Atlantic and Gulf, form, strengthen, and strike. Too often (way) they have implications for Florida and the many people I have come to know across it. The breadth of concern is often surprising to some.

Five months out of the year (I don't worry so much in November), the NHC NOAA website is the first I check each morning. Ritualistically, persistently, every morning. When I am on vacation a world away, that does not change. 

Helene is a good example. From the first announcement of its existence, I began to watch. I began tweeting about it the Sunday before (below - I know it is not "tweeting" anymore, but I am not going to be Xing.") When I mentioned to a friend last Monday that I was watching it, there was incredulity. The simple question was "Why." His point was that there was no apparent Paradise implication, and so why the interest?


The Florida OJCC is spread hither and yon across this incredibly diverse peninsula. With any depression threat, there is likely to be somebody in the OJCC in harm's way. This Office services thousands of professionals whose efforts benefit employers and employees: lawyers, doctors, adjusters, nurses, risk managers, and more. I have met many of them over the decades, and even when the OJCC is not threatened many of them nonetheless are.

These storms are not "a Florida thing," but too often this is the destination. Time and again, we have been "lucky" with a turn or shift, and that "cone of probability" ("cone of uncertainty") has shifted to our neighbors. A minister told me years ago that he felt "unchristian praying for storms to hit his neighbors, but felt compelled to it anyway." He is not alone. There is some degree of survivor guilt that is experienced from these impacts. I have breathed sighs of relief over the years when impacts have been in the Carolinas, Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas, and Mexico.

Those occasions are not escapes from the destruction and the death, but merely deflections. The damage and devastation still occur in each instance, but it is not here. There is some classic NIMBY in our reaction. That is "not in my backyard." So often the "cone" shifts, the storm strikes elsewhere, and we breathe a collective sigh of relief and move on. We return from the angst and anxiety of storm watching and potentiality fear and move on. And, too easily, we forget that someone, somewhere was struck.

Inevitably, there is damage and devastation. That evil witch Helene is no different. Most recently, the death toll over 60 and predicted to rise. The social media images of destroyed homes in Florida have been heartbreaking. In some ways, the advent of social media sharing has made these events more real, more striking, and more depressing. Make no mistake, these monsters were killing and destroying all along, but we get more immediate and powerful images of the devastation now.

And the breadth has changed. No, not the breadth of the storm but of our consciousness. Today we see social media and news coverage of destruction and death in a far broader scope. The impact of this particular scope on Georgia, the Carolinas, and Tennessee in particular. We see and absorb the misery, death, and destruction. Some is focused on a person or a house, and some implicate desolation of entire communities.

And we sit in the aftermath and face the angst and anxiety that is "survivor guilt." But those who were damaged by Helene were in a path we neither controlled nor instigated. Mother nature can be a hideous and hateful force sometimes and these witches she sends will land somewhere. That we hope and pray it will not be "here" is never a factor. The storms go where the storms go. They don't follow our hopes, prayers, or pleas. There is, in short, nothing about which to feel guilty.

The aftermath brings opportunities. There will be many that will travel to the affected places. I have been to communities after Katrina, Michael, and Zeta. I have lived through Floyd, Ivan, Dennis, and Sally. There are opportunities to pitch in, commiserate, and comfort. There are many in need, and there is much to do. There are people you know, and others you might come to, who will be blessed with the arrival of church groups, civic organizations, heavy equipment, and the inevitable parade of power trucks. Who knew there were this many power trucks in the entire world? Amazing. 

There is presently a disconcerting level of societal disconnect, anger, vitriol, and worse, in America. But in these moments, there is opportunity for commiseration, consideration, and community. People will come together in the aftermath, as they always do. Neighbors, strangers, and visitors will gather, and coalesce, and progress will result. Wounds will heal, recovery will proceed, and communities will rebuild. There will be millions of minor kindnesses and contributions.

The church and civic groups and their food are always welcome. A hot meal is real comfort in times of recovery. The visiting police and national guard are a sight for sore eyes in the aftermath. I will forever remember the Sarasota County Deputy who guarded the neighborhood of our Paradise District Office for weeks after Ivan. He became a familiar daily site. I stopped to chat long after he became comfortable with waiving me through the checkpoint. Then one day, he was abruptly gone. The recovery, you see, progresses. 

Unfortunately, in each recovery, we will also see memory fade. Those who survive these storms are too quick to forget. Those who are uninitiated are too ready to discount or disregard. Too many disregard the good advice to evacuate to higher ground. A sheriff suggested before Helene that those refusing to leave should write their name on their own body to aid in the aftermath. There will be much confusion, searching, angst, and worry in the wake of any storm. The bigger and badder, the more the worry.

The fact is, Helene will not be the last. They will add her to the list of the "worst." There are more than one list. There is the death toll list of which she will certainly become part (the lowest on that list is 53); AP reports the current loss of life is more than 64.  The news is full of stories memorializing heroes who have kept that list so low. There is the economic loss list. There are many familiar names there; Ivan and Katrina will forever stick in my mind. I am confident the wicked Helene will take a spot there at least for a time. But, she may nonetheless one day be displaced from that list by some worse witch.

Her name will be forever retired from the NOAA rotation (click for list; some will reminisce over years that are etched in memory like 2004 when FOUR storm names in Florida were retired: Charley, Frances, Ivan, and Jeanne). Like so many before her, the wicked Helene will be the last of her name, just like Ivan, Katrina, Ian, Betsy, and Andrew. It will take time, but her wrath, vigor, insolence, and indifference will fade from memory and become legend. 

People must strive to remember and to remain conscious. When the threat comes, they need to listen. When told to evacuate, they need to go. But many will not. They will say "It won't happen here." They will believe that Atlanta is "safe" or that Tennessee is "safe." Some will even delude themselves into believing their coastal home is "safe." Many times they will be absolutely right and occasionally, someone will be dead wrong. If you missed that entendre, "dead wrong" is nonetheless "dead."

There will be lessons learned from the witch Helene. Some will be new, but most will be recycled. Ritualize your annual May preparations, watch the tropics, plan for the worst, follow instructions, put your safety first, and strive to pitch in for the damaged and displaced when you are lucky enough to avoid the direct hit. Simple lessons. Simple humanity. Simple sense. 

And, if you are out there reading this by generator or car inverter, know that it will get better. Know that recovery is as inevitable as the storm itself. Know that you have the strength and the spirit to recover and rebuild. Many have doubted they did, and they were each wrong.