Hurricane pushes politics aside, brings people together – The Ledger

I’m at my window desk with the wind lashing around and tons of rain falling just after a wild night. Band after band of the outer arms of Idalia’s distant grab for my end of Florida swept through, but I’m on high ground, so it mostly drains as it falls.
Even here, far to the south of the direct impact up in the Big Bend, the storm flooded the streets and found every leak in every roof. I’ve got power, but father north thousands do not. A friend has a lovely old beach house up at Alligator Point. In that crook of the gulf coast most known for its unspoiled white sand and deep green mangroves is a place I fear for. They’re safe down here, but worried, of course.
Idalia was so huge and tracked so ugly that the entire gulf coast, from Immokolee to Panama City, got hammered. Washed over and devastated in some areas, while in others it was simply wet.
Hurricanes are equal opportunity catastrophes with often no real rhyme or reason about where and who they hit. We’re all reminded just how vulnerable we are to the slap of nature. And in times like these, Florida is really just a big sandbar of grit and limestone, barely above the waters of the Gulf and the Atlantic.
The vast majority of the time Floridians are playfully clueless. It’s sunny, green and beautiful. That’s why we live here. But for the last 24 hours, we’ve been closely focused on weather reports, tracking maps, looking over evacuation routes and watching for public notice. Then the sheets of rain begin to fall, the decorative barometers on the wall begin to drop and suddenly we’re in a different world.
Fortunately, there are those who never forget this. They’ve been planning, measuring, studying past storms, digging through old files, looking at hundreds of possible tracks and probable effects.
This is what government is for.
From the governor to the garbage guys – the emergency staffers and meteorologists to the NOAA fliers and the coast guard, they’ve been ready. Whatever Mr. DeSantis deserves to be taken to task for, there are few Floridians of any political stamp who would want him replaced in this moment. Nor trained for this by either Harvard or Yale, but by the discipline and lessons of a lifetime in this place. While the sea floods into the streets, trees fly through the air, and the ferocity of a giant CAT3 sweeps through, no-one, including the governor, is paying any attention to the presidential race, or the culture wars.
Today, on the map, Florida is red. Today, Cedar Key is currently under water, with a storm surge that topped at 6.9 feet. On the ground move the first responders – those dealing with the immediate test of injuries, fear and issues of finding shelter for those displaced inland from the storm. Today, In the vortex, there are battered people, homes destroyed, businesses sunk by the water.
In a few days, the aftermath will set in.
This is also what government is for.
Recovery will come slowly, but we’ve all done this before with Ian, Irma and Andrew. There are few people on the planet more determined or more durable than Floridians. The streets will be cleared, the garbage and debris removed, the roofs repaired, the drains snaked, and the power restored.
Disaster relief will flood into the area as the waters recede and help will come. Never as quickly as needed, of course, because in a calamity like a hurricane there is no instant gratification. And each time, we do it better, we learn. And the planning and prep start all over again.
When this goes to press, we’ll already be battling again. The presidential race. The culture wars. But for a moment, let’s take the time to remember how in real crises, we all come together to solve things and that the combination of a strong people and good organization are undefeated.
Bruce Anderson is the Dr. Sarah D. and L. Kirk McKay Jr. Endowed Chair in American History, Government, and Civics and Miller Distinguished Professor of Political Science at Florida Southern College. He is also a columnist for The Ledger.
Source: News