Facing survivor’s guilt as Hurricane Ian strands me in SF


I was 6 years old when the now-infamous Hurricane Andrew made direct contact with my home city of Miami in August 1992. 

While the storm ravaged South Florida, forcing many of my friends to seek refuge in bathtubs and under sinks as their homes quite literally flew away, I was sleeping soundly about 350 miles up the east coast of Florida at my father’s home in Jacksonville. I was stuck. Maybe it was luck. 

I was visiting my dad the weekend before as the storm intensified in warm tropical waters. The day I was scheduled to go home, he told me quite sternly that I would not be returning to Miami to start my first day of elementary school that Monday. 

Instead, I would be staying with him indefinitely, as a major hurricane was making a beeline to the exact spot where my school was located. My elementary school was then destroyed.

So much of Miami was destroyed. And those of us who lived in the city at that time, even if we weren’t there for the main event, were forever living in the aftermath of Hurricane Andrew. A respect for the power of Mother Nature and her uncompromising ability to destroy anything human-made was established in Dade County (as it was called back then). Miamians don’t mess around when it comes to storms.

This week, another major storm barreled down on Florida. Hurricane Ian made landfall on the west coast near the city of Fort Myers, about a two-and-a-half-hour drive from Miami. 

Not only do I have close friends all along the west coast of Florida, including in Fort Myers, but my fiance’s family has a condo on Siesta Key, a barrier island off of Sarasota. This has been a happy place for him his whole life, and for me throughout our relationship. We are anxiously keeping an eye on the security camera feed as 100 mph winds whip the building.

Damage from Hurricane Irma in September 2017, when a vessel dubbed the Lucky Duck made landfall. 

Courtesy of Jacqueline Coleman

Once again, I find myself stuck somewhere far away as a major storm destroys the homes and livelihoods of people I care about and the beautiful beaches and islands that make Florida so special. 

I’ve been traveling since before the storm and extended my stay to avoid flying home into the hurricane. For now, I am 3,000 miles away in San Francisco.

Being a born and true Miamian means that you are no stranger to hurricanes. I recall at least a harmless Category 1 storm every year of my childhood up until the 2005 season. 

Between the 2004 and 2005 seasons during my freshman and sophomore years at the University of Miami, we had multiple land impacts. Our dorms were evacuated, and my college roommate and I stayed off campus with friends and family multiple times. Fall semester was a bit disrupted.

Once you’ve been through a hurricane season, you start to get the hang of it. You stock up on water, food and batteries. You check in on others to help secure their homes. You establish a safe place, preferably with an interior room with no windows in case of intense winds and tornadoes. 

And do not, under any circumstance, walk into standing water during or after a storm. This is where downed power lines are often hidden.

Most importantly, stock up on beer and wine and other snacks for the anticipated “hurricane party” you will have over the coming few days.

Hey, hurricane parties are definitely a part of this whole process.  

The author at age 6 in 1992, when Hurricane Andrew hit Florida.

The author at age 6 in 1992, when Hurricane Andrew hit Florida.

Courtesy of Jacqueline Coleman

For those of us who are stranded away from home during any of these frantic times, there is always a sense of guilt. I’m away from my family, and my fiance is home with our cats, keeping a close eye on each new tropical update. He’s from Ohio, so hurricanes are new to him. Aside from the fringes of Hurricane Irma in 2017, he has never been through a major storm. I am the seasoned storm girl, and I am far from home.

Guilt is a funny thing to feel when you are physically safe. While in the Bay Area, I’ve explored the food and wine scene and enjoyed the perfect weather, but anyone who has experienced a disaster will understand that pang of leaving others behind to suffer through the worst of Mother Nature.

Throughout this week’s ordeal, I’ve been texting with a friend and fellow writer who is also a host on a radio station in Fort Myers. She said this is the worst hurricane she has ever been through. Her radio station has its on-air personalities riding out the storm in the station building so that they can report about the disaster that is occurring right outside. Her Instagram story updates show colleagues in sweats and slippers with their loyal furry companions sitting right next to them.

Another thing Floridians know is that you never leave pets alone during a storm. They are family members that join you in sheltering. 

Keeping family close by during a hurricane is nothing to take for granted. 

My fiance’s aunt and uncle live in the Venice Beach area of Florida, which is taking a massive hit. At first, we were unable to get a hold of them. Perhaps, the cell service was disrupted. As they say, the waiting is the hardest part. We finally made contact on Thursday. They’re now waiting for the floodwaters to recede so they can leave their home for the first time. After major storms, there is always rebuilding. We know to expect this.

As for us, luckily, Miami was spared from the worst of the storm. But I hate to use the word “luck” with any of this. There is no luck. It’s only chance. This monster storm took a path that was not a direct hit on my home, but so many of my friends and family are squarely in harm’s way and will be subjected to feelings of terror followed by grief for their losses — of homes, belongings, happy places and innocence. You are never the same after an experience like this.

My guilt of being away and unable to help immediately overrules any sense of relief I may feel. The pit in my stomach is still there. Loved ones are not safe. I am a Miamian, a Floridian, and my home is under attack. No beautiful day in San Francisco can completely cure that panicked feeling, unfortunately.

Jacqueline Coleman is a wine and travel writer based in Miami.

Jacqueline Coleman is a wine and travel writer based in Miami.

Courtesy of Olga Miljko

However, I will try to enjoy my time here in Northern California. How can I not? Those of us who live in hot, sticky South Florida often look to California as some kind of humidity-free paradise where you can go wine tasting anytime you want. 

I’ve always loved visiting San Francisco and once named a cat “Frisco Bay.” This definitely ranks as one of my favorite cities. But, in the back of my mind, I’m still in hurricane mode. I’m missing the beauty of the Golden Gate Bridge while buried in a Twitter thread showing the storm surge devastating Florida’s southwest coast. 

It’s likely that I’ll be checking for regular hurricane updates with a glass of wine overlooking the San Francisco Bay. 

I’ve joined the countless others who are refreshing updates on Hurricane Ian while safely afar but feeling remorse from the refuge. 

Jacqueline Coleman is a wine and travel writer based in Miami. You can find links to her articles at historyandwine.com and wineguidemiami.com.



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