Hurricane victims assess damage. Again.
PENSACOLA, Fla. - Residents along the Gulf Coast, where Hurricane Dennis made landfall Sunday packing wind up to 120 mph, returned to their homes Monday to discover missing roofs and walls and belongings strewn about.
Just down the road, Caryn and Mike Martino stood at the base of their 13-foot-high deck — all that remains of their two story home. They had just finished replacing a roof damaged by Ivan, but had not yet moved in. The couple will wait a while before showing pictures of the wreckage to their two young children.
"We'll tell them daddy will make it bigger this round. Bigger and better and stronger," said Caryn Martino, who clutched a composition book with "Dennis" written on the cover. She has a similar book for Ivan filled with insurance claim numbers, government phone listings and other storm-related information.
Year after year, the state of Florida is pummelled by hurricanes and tropical storms. Year after year, people flee their homes in panic, return days later, and mourn the loss of nearly everything they own. And year after year, they put their lives back together and decide, "You know, it's really not that bad. It's just a little wind and a little rain and a little 'oh no, my roof is being torn off my house and my couch and dog and arm just flew out the gaping hole.' I think I'll stay. You just can't beat the mild winters, communities of old people, and the sunshine that's only sporadically interrupted by national-disaster storms."
If there is any unquestionable sign of lunacy, it is that people continue to choose to live in a place that is decimated on a regular basis by winds that could rend the nose from your face.
PENSACOLA, Fla. - Residents along the Gulf Coast, where Hurricane Dennis made landfall Sunday packing wind up to 120 mph, returned to their homes Monday to discover missing roofs and walls and belongings strewn about.
Just down the road, Caryn and Mike Martino stood at the base of their 13-foot-high deck — all that remains of their two story home. They had just finished replacing a roof damaged by Ivan, but had not yet moved in. The couple will wait a while before showing pictures of the wreckage to their two young children.
"We'll tell them daddy will make it bigger this round. Bigger and better and stronger," said Caryn Martino, who clutched a composition book with "Dennis" written on the cover. She has a similar book for Ivan filled with insurance claim numbers, government phone listings and other storm-related information.
Year after year, the state of Florida is pummelled by hurricanes and tropical storms. Year after year, people flee their homes in panic, return days later, and mourn the loss of nearly everything they own. And year after year, they put their lives back together and decide, "You know, it's really not that bad. It's just a little wind and a little rain and a little 'oh no, my roof is being torn off my house and my couch and dog and arm just flew out the gaping hole.' I think I'll stay. You just can't beat the mild winters, communities of old people, and the sunshine that's only sporadically interrupted by national-disaster storms."
If there is any unquestionable sign of lunacy, it is that people continue to choose to live in a place that is decimated on a regular basis by winds that could rend the nose from your face.
You would think that they would pick up on the Earth's not-so-subtle hint: "MOVE!"
(This goes for the people who live in Tornado Alley as well)
Seriously people, figure it out!
it's really only certain parts of Florida, like just the places people live.
Seriously, maybe God just wants to bless Florida's contractors, so he stupified everyone in Florida and started sending hurricanes
Not only do they stay, they pay a fortune to do so.
i don't know, it think once my arm got sucked out the gaping hole i'd be ready to move to a less costal region (ie: the desert)
man! what is it with me and typos today?