Date:   9/9/2004 8:18:00 AM ( 20 y ago)
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URL:   https://www.curezone.org/forums/fm.asp?i=273743

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I want to thank all my good friends at CureZone for their prayers and good wishes. My elderly mother and I survived Hurricane Frances. I know in my heart that your prayers -- not only for us, but for HappyDog, DeeAnn, Alikat, and other Floridians -- played a major role in defusing the terrible intensity of that storm. Godwilling, we'll also survive Hurricane Ivan, a category 5 hurricane, which is due to strike southern Florida early next week, if it stays on track.

My mother and I live in a small condo complex (15 units) which is
about 20 miles south of West Palm Beach. Her apt is about 20 yds from mine. Mom turned 95 on Sunday, but she is much healthier than most people her age, or even close to it. She swims laps in the pool every day, cooks her own food, drinks two martinis every evening, loves parties and people, and enjoys life. Except for some macula degeneration and hearing loss, Mom is hale and hearty in her tenth generation of life. It's good to have her genes in me.

The other 13 units are owned by Snowbirds; northerners who come to Florida during the season. So I spent much of last week on a ladder, securing the windows and doors of my neighbors.

Last Friday, I said goodbye to my apt. It's an eerie feeling to drive away, and not know whether the building will be there when you return. I've done that four times in the last 15 years, and it doesn't get any easier.

My brother and his wife have a big, strong house a mile south of here. It's on the ocean-side of the Intercoastal, but that's where we all decided to ride out the storm. Had worse come to worst, we could have fled 10 miles west to the home of friends.

The power went out after lunch last Friday. Suddenly, we found ourselves in dark rooms, in which only slivers of light peeked through the hurricane shutters. Each of us had a flashlight, and we lit candles in the living room, where we spent most of the time. A portable radio supplied us with sporadic news. We had plenty of food and water. My brother's cell-phone was our connection to the world.

Between Friday and Monday evening, we lived in that expensive bunker. On Sunday, we celebrated my mother's 95th birthday. Dennis, my brother, got out his old acoustic guitar, and we sang songs from our youth: Kingston Trio, Limelighters, Beatles, and more. I was amazed how we had retained lyrics that no one had thought about in 40 years. It was a very pleasant day. Mom said it was a birthday she would never forget.

On Monday, Dennis and I drove back to inspect my building. Thank God, the roof was still on! There was no structural damage. Lots of trees down everywhere, and a fence was destroyed, but our homes survived. It felt VERY good to walk through my door, and greet all my inanimate friends. The power came on at 1 A.M. Tuesday morning (the TV, however, is still off). Turns out that lots of my neighbors still have NO power, including Dennis. He and his wife flew to NYC last night. Dennis works for Dateline NBC, and he had to get back to work. If you ever watch Dateline, you'll see Dennis Murphy. He's their best correspondent.

Our shutters are still on -- and by now, I'm used to it. The phone rings around the clock; neighbors who want the latest news. My Mom is doing fine. We'll go shopping for food after lunch. And all the time, we're trying to get news of Ivan, which devstated the island of Grenada yesterday. Please keep all of us Floridians in your prayers.

In many significant ways, Hurricane Frances has been a blessing, rather than a curse; at least to my little family. It brought us all together in ways that I'd forgotten. We've had a chance to re-forge our bonds to one another. Dennis and I vowed to make time for our singing. And we're both closer to our strong and loving mother.

Thanks again to all my friends at CureZone for your prayers. Though we've never stood under the same roof, or the same patch of sky, I consider all of you to be good friends; good, gentle, compassionate human beings. I'm in your collective debt.

Blessings,

Owen

 

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