Romance Author - Alinka Zyrmont

Mother played some Scottish folk songs on the piano during the calm of the eye of Hurricane Wilma, but when a coconut palm began swaying towards my bay window - special impact glass or not - I moved her into the back bedroom. Then we watched in horror as the electrical pole started oscillating near that window and I again moved her into the front bedroom. Rudy and Zuzi thought this was a fun game and Mom told me she had never moved around a house so much since the bombing of London. The howling wind must have sounded like the engine of a jet plane to them as they have such sharp hearing and to us it was eerie and annoying. The storm lasted for about six hours and after deciding against using the safe room, which was a dark, windowless closet, we decided to move freely about the house at the end of the storm which was the worst part with winds up to almost 125 miles per hour. We could not get accurate information from our battery-operated TV, or radio, because different parts of the county were being affected in different ways, but Lighthouse Point being on the ocean, suffered severely.

Luckily, Wicked Wilma, did no structural damage to our house and my family emerged unscathed, but my beloved garden is in shambles. A huge palm tree toppled into the deep end of our pool. Palm trees have small roots so are easily uprooted and fall heavily where they please. The avocado tree was split in half throwing the doves' nest onto the soggy ground, and squirrels sat in shock with traumatized looks on their cute faces. We also lost several huge oak trees and ficus benjaminas which flew onto our driveway blocking our garage. We could not get our cars out for several days. Bushes and newly planted flowers were torn to shreds, and my tough seagrape tree is pointing east. It used to stand majestically with its branches to the north. Bruised legs and contused arms bear the scars of the damage that Wilma left behind with her viciousness. We ran out of Band-Aids as I was dispensing them faster than free flier advertising.

Water was turned off for a few days and I had to bathe in baby oil, reminding me of Cleopatra bathing in goat's milk. Brushing my teeth with white wine and making coffee with a power drink water was distasteful to say the least, but necessary. Later, I progressed to cold showers, especially after working a fourteen hour day putting branches and leaves into the wheel barrows and dumping them onto the swells in the streets. Since we live on a corner lot we have over 250 linear feet of frontage which is now covered in broken branches and debris, hiding the house. Unable to sleep at night because of the interminable humming of neighbors' generators, I resorted to taking sleeping pills. My husband's power saw buzzed noisily nonstop for eight hours a day as I dragged the broken tree limbs away for good. Then he ran out of gas as trucks stopped by to offer assistance at $300 per tree. John put his survivalist skills to work and we were never without a hot meal thanks to his camping training in the rugged mountains of Utah. His little gas stove produced miracles of pancakes, fried chicken, soups, and he even cooked a pizza on his BBQ. I ate only two pieces, one because I was hungry, and the other to show my appreciation, but I prefer my pizza the Italian way - baked in a hot oven!

Although I love the outdoors, my camping days with hubby are over ever since I was bitten by a scorpion gathering wood for his camp fire in Arizona. Dismantling a tent at three o'clock in the morning with the coyotes howling for their dinner and rattlesnakes creeping around while I was deathly ill, is not my idea of a wonderful vacation! Mr. Macho can practice his survivalist techniques with his pilot friends, he can exclude me as I am off alone to the Red Mountain Spa in St. George, or a cruise with cabin service. I consider myself a good sport, but there are limits to my patience and marital obligations. Too much togetherness spoils the romance!

Anticipating long lines at the gas station, we had filled up all three cars but I resorted to using my bicycle anyway to go to the post office, which was closed for four days. Ice and water were offered by Fema as soldiers carrying rifles directed traffic and loaded bags of ice into the hundreds of cars stopped over our little bridge and blocked people's driveways and the parking lot of the church. There were hit-and-run accidents as police scrambled to catch the non-resident, who got his ice, damaged a car and took off. People were yelling obscenities in foreign languages, and car honking was prevalent. Quite honestly, I have never never seen such deplorable behavior here in Lighthouse Point in all the years we have resided in this city. I decided we could do without ice and keep our dignity.

There were long lines at the corner gas station with cars snaking for miles blocking people's driveways, so my bicycle became the main form of transportation for the rest of that miserable week. Seven days after the hurricane, it was still impossible to find cooking fuel, we had run out of charcoal and gas and we were now down to tuna sandwiches and canned fruit. The land line was inoperable and cell phones were not allowed, except for 911 calls. I never thought I'd miss my obnoxious computer, but just like a second-class friend, I found I needed it.

The Mormons believe in keeping a six-month supply of food, water, and other necessities on hand, which might be a good idea if you are snow-bound in Park City, but after having to rearrange my life style to that of Granny Lindsay's era, and washing my clothes by hand with the hose in the patio then hanging them on a clothes line to dry in the southern breeze, I am not so sure they are not right. Being prepared means comfort; not having enough supplies means roughing it, which we all can do for two or three days, but the second week of abnegation translates into trouble: family feuds, accidents, and neurosis.

If I have learned anything from Wicked Wilma, is that we are NOT prepared for a war, if Lord forbid, one should arrive here. Americans are spoiled rotten, and we have become very accustomed to modern technology babysitting us. I do not mean to sound like an alarmist, but it is simply common sense to stock your garage and pantry with basic necessities so that you can survive on your own for at least one month, and invest in a generator, although the gas can be as much as $30 per day to operate, and usually scarce; and buy the earplugs. Don't expect the government to help because their assistance is slow in arriving and they have very limited resources.

We managed to keep our spirits high by being thankful we were alive, that our friends were okay, our house had not blown away, and we had food, but would I remain to suffer through another hurricane? The answer is NO! As soon as I get my office organized, I am taking off on a cruise, ALONE. In closing, I would like to thank the Lighthouse Point Police Department, which did a terrific job under strained circumstances. They were courteous, professional, efficient, and helpful. I have always been proud of them. It is not that we don't want BSO, it is comforting to see a friendly face as they rise above the call of duty. Also, a round of applause to our Fire Department, I love to see those guys in tight navy blue tee-shirts with their gleaming muscles around town. Very comforting indeed! And l also must mention, John Lavisky, our City Administrator for keeping cool under such stress. Last but not least, a big hug to our mayor, Fred Schorr, for doing the impossible: I saw the strain on his tired face, and must commend him for doing such a great job of running this lovely City under such terrible circumstances. That's why we re-elected you Fred; we knew you had tenacity under that Cheshire cat smile!

Alinka Zyrmont