eye on the storm

My dad is truly a wonder. 92-years-old, living alone, and thriving. We talk almost every day, mostly about what he’s making for dinner. But two weeks ago the conversation pivoted to the brewing storm that was projected to make a direct hit to the Gulf coast of Florida. With each passing day the news grew more dire.

Months earlier I had made plane reservations to come visit. As my dad prepared to go into a shelter before the projected cat 5 hurricane, he told me to cancel my trip. I said let’s just wait and see as my trip wasn’t scheduled for days after landfall.

It was a tense week, my stomach in knots as I watched the pending storm. Then waiting to hear how my dad was faring in the shelter, a second floor of a parking garage near the waters’ edge. Happy news, he weathered that experience, then anxiety as we waited another day before he could leave to check on his home. It appeared he had truly dodged a bullet. His house was intact though the entire region was out of power. The first 24-hours his spirits were high and he seemed to enjoy the adventure and imminent tale he was going to tell. But with each passing day everyone’s mood began to dim.

Again, he said I should cancel my trip. I told him we should sit tight and that I didn’t need to cancel until right before my flight. Miraculously the night before his lights on. At dawn I drove to the airport and made my way across the country to the shores of Fort Myers.

We celebrated that evening with grouper sandwiches at the Sunflower Café, its sign boasting “home cooking and cocktails”. Upon arrival I could use a bit of both. The waitress brought me a very large overflowing glass of one of the cheapest white wines I’ve had since my college days. It tasted divine.

That night in my dad’s house I woke to a huge bang. I jumped up thinking my dad had fallen out of bed. Then noticed all of the ceiling fans were still. Power was out again. The next morning they began to whirl. I finished cleaning out my dad’s frig and headed out to the grocery to replenish and get the ingredients for a requested triple batch of my famed chili. As I chopped and chopped the power went out again. A few hours later it surged back on.

I opened the refrigerator and the much-improved bottle of wine that I had purchased at the grocery and stowed in there was sadly warm. His frig had died. I took a partially frozen therapeutic icepack out of the freezer and wrapped it around the bottle and started making phone calls. Amazingly at 10pm a cold loaner refrigerator was delivered. I transferred what I could and threw out the rest.

The next morning I went back to the market and with the power back on once again started to make my chili. As it simmered two amazing appliance repairmen, Leo and Daniel, arrived to check on the state of my father’s refrigerator. The culprit was a blown fan, due probably to the continuing power surges. Not only had the surges burned out his frig but also his TVs, internet and the WIFI transformer from his house to the street.

Incredibly they found a replacement fan in their shop. By the time my chili had cooled to room-temp, the refrigerator and freezer were cold.

I spooned individual portions into Ziploc bags.

Smoothed them out and froze them flat.

Once frozen solid they were stored vertically, ready to go any time my dad had a hankering. Here’s the recipe for my chili, a true family favorite.

Day 4 for me, Day 7 for my dad another guardian angel arrived, Patrick, from Blue Stream Internet arrived. He entered our ever-quiet house and within hours replaced the entire transformer panel, reinstalled all of my dad’s TVs, and even reprogramed his plethora of remotes so each TV only needed one and in titles my father could easily understand as he punched the buttons. The next day I phoned Patrick’s supervisor to sing his praises.

With the power on, refrigerator stocked and running, internet connected, my father's news friends filling the house with their once familiar voices, it was almost time for me to leave. That last night we went out to dinner with my dad’s best friend Sam.

I adore meals with these two, the conversation is always lively as we delve into all of the world’s problems. Uppermost this evening were the issues on the upcoming Florida ballot. Sam wanted to know what I thought about each and how I was going to vote. I told him that I wasn’t a Florida resident so I wasn’t familiar the stated issues, but that I would happily take a look and let him know. With that Sam and dad declared it was time to go and that I could review dad’s ballot at his house, call Sam on speaker phone, and let them know my thoughts.

An hour later we had reviewed the issues, engaged in another animated exchange, and created a “cheat-sheet” the two could use when they went to the polling place. Another one of those southwestern Florida glasses of wine please!

Oh and here’s an added bonus- on the way back I watched the most wonderful film. “Thelma” is about a 93-year-old grandmother who is scammed out of $10,000 and her true story quest to get it back. Along with a can of Delta Airlines chardonnay it was the perfect ending to this eventful trip.