Irma is closing in on my home state, Florida. That quirky peninsula that’s home to alligators, swamp ass, and cockroaches that fly. I lived in Florida from the day I was born until just a few months ago when we moved to North Carolina.
I ended up in the sunshine state because my parents, my father specifically, was looking for greener pastures and warmer winters. He followed his sister and her husband down from New England and my parents built a life that included raising 6 hellions. I am the youngest hellion.
I didn’t really have any strong feelings about Florida life. It was where I lived, the only home I knew. Frankly, I was always envious of you folks living in states that had a change of seasons. I could have done with less traffic and sweating and mosquitoes, but Florida was where my friends and family were, so it wasn’t ever all that bad.
In 44 years I was lucky to experience many different parts of the state. I spent most of those years in south Florida, but I was married on the west coast. We eloped and were wed on the beach at sunset, saying our vows while unsuspecting tourists did the Sanibel stoop. I’ve been to Disney World more times than I can count. My daughter goes to college in the panhandle, at her father’s alma mater. I’ve even been to Key West and the southernmost point in the U.S.
As I’m watching my friends and family post tales and photos of their preparations for Irma I’m weighed down by an abundance of emotions. Were we still there, we would be alongside them preparing our own home and helping them as they would certainly be helping us. Now, I can only watch the news and pray, offer the occasional joke or words of support. I feel a little helpless.
The feed of my friends’ worries and concerns that I’m scrolling through is also peppered with the occasional disapproving voices. Why would anyone live in Florida? What do they expect? They should have evacuated! They expect to be rescued even though they took the risk to live there.
First of all, if your initial reaction to a monster hurricane is to wag a finger at the people in the line of fire, you are an asshole and you might want to find a hobby or a therapist. Secondly, as to why anyone would want to live there, that’s easy. It’s fucking beautiful.
But it’s more than just the beauty. People stay in the sunshine state because they have jobs and families and friends and the lives they’ve built here. Floridians are often an odd lot, but they plant roots and want to watch their tree grow just like everybody else.
Floridians know the price they pay for these roots. You don’t have to tell them how costly that beauty is. They know how lucky they are to wear flip flops 365 days a year. The dangers that lurk in the waters that surround them do not go unnoticed. Floridians are more than aware of their peninsular vulnerability and they are more prepared for what may come than you could ever imagine.
I’ve been through probably at least a dozen hurricanes, Andrew being the worst. I was about 60 miles from where Andrew made landfall, hunkered down under my dining room table listening to trees in my backyard snap like twigs in the howling, ferocious wind. We lost power for a week after that storm.
The most recent one I went through was Matthew, an Irma-like monster that was at one time predicted to make landfall in the town we were living in. Fortunately, it made a turn at the last minute and skirted the coast rather than hitting it directly. We just happened to get lucky on that one.

My husband, putting up shutters on our home while Matthew barreled toward us. Our home was one of eight in the neighborhood that he and a friend shuttered. That’s a hell of a lot of metal panels to lug up the ladder.
We didn’t leave during Matthew because leaving is not that simple. At the time I was still on an oral chemo regimen and pretty weak. I couldn’t really help with preparations and that meant my husband was working up until almost the last minute. That left us with little time to get out of the state. The risk of being stuck in the horde of other evacuees was too great, as was the risk of running out of gas while doing so. Gas shortages are common during hurricanes. To leave without a certainty of being able to fill up would be irresponsible and foolish.
We never expected anyone to babysit us during the storm. We wouldn’t have gone hungry or died of thirst. Not only were we prepared with flashlights and non-perishable food and bottles upon bottles of clean water, so were our neighbors. Had any one of us needed anything, we were just a few steps from someone who was more than happy to help.
The use of a ladder is paid for with an hour or so with the the right drill bit for screwing in wing nuts. You put up his shutters and he’ll make you dinner. I’ll clear off your patio furniture if you help me move my grill. That’s how it goes with Floridians during a hurricane.
When all the preparations are done, everything is safely packed inside the shuttered house, the car is in the garage and there’s nothing left to do but wait it out, that’s when you’ll pour each other a stiff drink and laugh about the absurdity of it all. That’s when bonds are strengthened, where gratitude grows.
If you think that a Floridian deserves what’s coming from Irma simply because they chose to live there then you must expect that Californians deserve to burn in a wildfire or be crushed by debris from a killer quake. You ought to think residents of tornado alley are owed the misfortune of having their homes blown away. Are you also thinking someone should freeze to death in a blizzard, perish in a mudslide, scorch in the desert?
Everyone, everywhere is at risk some way, somehow. The very act of being alive is a risky proposition. So, instead of judging Floridians for living where they do, you should wish you were as bold, as generous, as wonderfully strange. And, if you ever find yourself in times of strife, you should hope you’re lucky enough to be with a Floridian when it happens. Odds are they’ll not only be able to help you get through it, but they’ll also have a great cocktail to hand you and an even better story to tell you when all the work is done.
I’ll be honest: I hated every second of the 10 years I lived in the St. Pete/Clearwater area, but I don’t judge my friends who live there still. I’m a girl who needs her seasons and an occasional hill (or better yet, a mountain or two), and I don’t much care for the beach, so the beauty was lost on me. But I know what you mean about the community gathering together to prep for storms, and how hard it is to evacuate. We evacuated when Charlie rolled through, got stuck in crazy traffic headed to Orlando, had a rock fly up from a truck in front of us and crack our windshield, and then ended up having to outrun Charlie when it took a sudden turn TOWARD Orlando. I was on the phone with my mom who was watching the weather channel as Charlie rampaged through and advising us, “okay, head towards Gainesville and back down the coast toward home!” The whole thing was a miserable 12 hours experience in the car with the cats. We rode out the rest of the hurricanes that passed through and fared well, but I’ve never been more relieved than when our house finally sold last year and we were rid of that liability. I don’t spend the hurricane season with a pit in my stomach waiting for our luck to run out. All of that being said, my hearts are with all of my friends who are still in FL – hoping that as many can evacuate as possible and that those who can’t can manage to stay safe.
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We’ve evacuated and ended up seeing worse weather than had we stayed. It’s hard to know what to do. And with this one there’s nowhere in the state to go.
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This was great. I lived in South Florida for almost a decade (Delray Beach and Hollywood) and I have to admit I absolutely hated it. However, that just has to do with personal preference for the aesthetics of a given area. It has nothing to do with the wonderful friends I made there who are very much in my thoughts at this moment. I was there for Wilma, but this one is almost sure to make Wilma look like a light shower.
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Loved the story. Love the experience of being your neighbor and weathering many storms (not all weather related) with you. I miss our “driveway” parties and the crew just north of the speed bump. Lol! Okay, Sue and Ed are exceptions south of the speed bump. Timberwalk was probably the best community I ever lived in and love that we all still remain friends no matter how far we’ve all spread out recently. Love you Christine!
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I love you, T! I am missing your great cocktails. We’d be sitting in my driveway right now if we both still lived there. Be safe!
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[…] via Why Would Anyone Live In Florida? — I’m Sick and So Are You […]
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Thank you. Soul food. That is one powerful piece of writing. May the drinks be strong and the winds be weak. Prayers for everyone down there. We are on fire here in the PNW and your words resonate here, too. It isnt called a choice anyway. Its called home ♡
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You get it. ❤️
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My mind is still trying to wrap itself around a single storm larger than a country. I don’t judge those who’ve fled (seems reasonable) nor those who’ve stayed (where can you go when it’s so big). I just hope for safe harbors and that clear skies come again.
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I only visited Florida once but just in the city. I was on a cruise ship visiting the port. As I seaw it, the city was very lively – day and night. Hope everyone there are safe from Irma….
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Great post! People should not be judged at all especially for where they live. The earth is wide and we all need to live somewhere. I pray for all those affected by the many fires, hurricanes, earthquakes, and other catastrophes taking place now.
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Well said, and when all is said and done, I still plan to live in Florida 6 months out of the year when I retire. Also, I have two trips to the gulf coast already paid for and scheduled in the next 7 weeks, so I hope the place and the people get through it as well as possible.
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The hotel where we were married on Sanibel was destroyed in a hurricane awhile back, but the west coast is still a place we consider moving to one day.
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The beach house where I’m supposed to stay in Nov. is in Fort Meyers Beach. I hope it survives!
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It’s not looking good for Ft. Meyers right now.
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I know. ☹️
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Well said Christine! Every place has it’s pluses and minuses. The hope is that everyone stays safe. I too have family in the area and we, around the world, are praying for safety of all affected xxx
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Florida has a lot of people praying for it right now.
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🙏
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