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In the Wake of a Hurricane: Lessons Learned as a Parent In August of 2004 my mother, my two daughters, and I chose to ignore the orders to evacuate Marco Island as Hurricane Charley came barreling up the Gulf Coast. For several days prior to the storm's arrival, we watched the forecasters predictions carefully. We made tentative reservations for a hotel room in Ft. Lauderdale based on the early signs that the hurricane was showing. The night before we planned on crossing the state to get out of harms way, we were told that the projected path of the storm would take it a bit north of Marco and it was "only" categorized as a level 1 storm. Given that information, the sturdiness of the extremely solid beachfront condo building we were staying in, and the fact that very few islanders were actually leaving, we decided to ride the storm out. Back here in Chicago, my husband and assorted other loved ones were extremely vocal in their opinions regarding this decision. "Reckless" and "crazy" were the most G-rated words directed at me over the phone. In my admittedly lame defense, I just really didn't think it would be so bad. After all, Chicago certainly had its fair share of strong thunderstorms that we had lived through. And given that my mother, who is a thoroughly and, at times, overly cautious person agreed that the storm would be tolerable, I was confident that our decision was a sound one. The storm arrived at the expected hour. We hunkered down, behind storm shutters and worked a very complicated 1,000 piece puzzle all day. The girls made the best of being shut in all day, without light and air, by building huge forts out of pillows and chairs. It all seemed relatively fine. Except that the storm did appear to be lingering out over the Gulf for a lot longer than had been predicted. Of course, we were unaware of what was actually happening. The storm was gathering fuel from the warm Gulf waters, raging into a Category 4 hurricane and eventually slamming into Ft. Myers and Punta Gorda. The aftermath of that storm and the others that swept through Florida last year was extraordinary. I was shocked to drive through Ft. Myers later that week and see the wreckage. Beatrice and Grace were equally amazed and confused by the power of nature. We did what we could in our remaining time down there that week by going to Red Cross stations, donating water, clothing and diapers. The girls learned a great life lesson that week. They were able to witness first hand and graphically the very definition of charity and need. I counted our untold blessings. Realizing how reckless and crazy our decision actually was, I vowed never to ride one out again. In hindsight, I cannot imagine what I was thinking. Since the births of my girls, every ounce of my being has been devoted to keeping them safe, happy and healthy. Yet, here I was ignoring warnings, however tempered they may have been, to get out. It ended up being an adventure for Bea and Grace, but what kind of example had I set? In the tally of allowable parental mistakes, this one had taken up more in one shot than anything I can ever allow to happen again. Especially given how much was within my control. And now Katrina. I'm aware, as we all are, of the thousands of families who decided to ride it out for whatever reasons they may have had. Most, if not all, had no choice. How could anyone have imagined the unfathomable outcome? The day after the hurricane hit, Bea and Grace talked to their good friend on the phone and made plans to get out their piggy banks and give to "the hurricane people." We had also been cleaning out closets for the fall and now have bags and bags of clothes. They are insisting that I give the bags to the Red Cross trucks like the ones we saw in Florida. Jim and I had been talking for several months about how to make this year's Christmas more meaningful and less about the endless gifts and racing around. Katrina has now made us even more resolute. Last night we talked to the girls about the idea of having the money that our family would spend on gifts this year instead be donated to the American Red Cross. The combination of their own minor but first-hand experience and what we've been seeing on CNN every day, made their comprehension of the suggestion as complete as possible for their ages. They were happy about the plan. After the immediacy of the Katrina story fades, I hope that the "Red Cross trucks" continue to get whatever anyone can give. The need will not be any less any time soon. Jennifer McManus is the mother of two daughters. She is a preschool teacher at All Things Bright and Beautiful Preschool. |
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