Treasure Coast Newspapers, Stuart, Fla., Michael Goforth column

Aug. 31--The wind howled like a pack of ravenous wolves as we huddled in the darkness, listening while claws ripped into trees, splitting them into flying splinters. The night sky turned an eerie, luminous green. Buildings and vehicles quaked as powerful jaws clamped down and shook them violently like small, innocent animals.

The nightmare we had dreaded, that our Treasure Coast had escaped for so many years, suddenly became our reality 10 years ago this Labor Day weekend as Hurricane Frances made landfall with a direct hit that, before the month was over, helped change our lives more than we would have imagined.

A day earlier, heeding evacuation orders, we had moved into a motel west of Fort Pierce, far enough away to escape the flooding from storm surges, but close enough to experience the pounding rain and wind and understand how bad the destruction might be on the barrier island we had escaped.

The wind howled and roared and screamed hour after hour. Even as light came the next day, Frances continued to pound away with winds of more than 100 miles an hour. The power had long been out. We watched a small, battery-operated TV and listened to a radio for updates and word, perhaps, if our home had survived.

But, all we really knew was the storm was taking a serious toll and we were helpless to do much more than worry and pray.

And, then it was over. We were battered but not broken.

The soggy motel room became our refuge. We ate our cold, meager food until one evening when other occupants arranged for a cookout and some musicians to entertain us. I remember how the hot food tasted incredibly good.

Then, we were given the OK to leave the mainland and drive over the bridge to the island. The path was littered with destruction, with the remnants of what was no more. Useless streetlights dangled like broken marionettes. Sturdy trees were uprooted, their branches scattered far away in yards and streets. Roofs were ripped from homes and shops. Luxury boats along the harbor looked like they had been tossed there by a careless child at play. Wooden poles stood like lonely soldiers at attention in the water where docks had once been.

And, there were the sounds that would become all too familiar, of chain saws growling and whining portable generations incessantly humming.

Our home was still standing. The sight gave us a profound sense of relief. But, that relief was short-lived as we entered to find windows smashed, rugs and furniture soaked, rivulets of water streaming from overhead light fixtures and, in the oppressive heat, the first signs of mildew -- spots that over the next few weeks spread and blackened like Satan's smeared fingerprints.

Parts of the ceiling had collapsed. Portions of the roof had been peeled back to reveal the sky.

We knew in those moments that we would have to leave for a while so repairs could be made. We were naively optimistic.

We were fortunate enough to locate a condo we could move into that had been largely undamaged by Frances. I piled what belongings could be salvaged into my car and made several trips from our damaged home to our temporary lodging and unloaded the cargo. That afternoon, though, the owner of the condo doubled the rent agreed upon. We could not afford the price and could not spend even one night there.

Again, we were fortunate to find a second condo, and I moved what I had put in the first condo to the second. At last, we had a dry, safe place where we could settle.

Then, we saw on our TV screens the unbelievable. Another hurricane less than three weeks later seemed headed our way. Incredible. Sadness at the losses we had already suffered turned to near despair. Coupled with some sheer anger at the complete unfairness.

Again, we headed inland, but this time much farther away in Orlando. Then, as the storm named Jeanne rushed ashore on the Treasure Coast with winds topping 120 miles an hour, we discovered we had not gone far enough. Our motel in Orlando got pounded by bands from the Category 3 hurricane. Sand bags placed outside our doors kept some water out, but water broke through the ceiling, flooding nearly all we had taken with us and placed in the room.

During a temporary lull in the storm, we were told to move into another room in better shape. For week after week after week, we had suffered one misfortune after another. We were feeling lost and nearly numb.

Jeanne had done a little more damage to our home on the barrier island in Fort Pierce. There had been little left to destroy after Frances. We surveyed the damage and began to speculate on our potential future.

Later, officials estimated the property damage caused by Frances at more than $10 billion and, from Jeanne, more than $8 billion.

But, that, of course, didn't include the loss of irreplaceable valuables and our sense of well-being.

There would be no simple repairing of our home. The "awhile" we thought we would be in temporary housing turned out to be more than a year.

Again, though, we were fortunate. While our home had to be entirely gutted, insurance and a little money I had gotten after my mother's death helped to finance the reconstruction, remodeling and furnishing of what became our new home.

The home we have now is better than the home we had before the twin hurricanes hit that September of 2004. It's much safer from potential storms in the future. The appliances and furniture are newer and in better shape. In that way, we benefitted some from that awful month and the months that followed.

My experiences were not unusual. They were probably pretty typical. Many got through the storms much better than we did and some suffered far more.

We returned to our home the year after the storms just in time to celebrate Thanksgiving. And, there was much for which to be thankful.

But, I miss some of the businesses destroyed by the storms and never rebuilt. And, the friends who had experienced more than enough of our violent weather and moved away. And, I don't like looking at weather forecasts with a new sense of fear rather than caution and curiosity.

For all the improvements that have occurred following those terrible times, for all the amazing stories we have to tell others of our survival and resurrection, though, I wouldn't wish what happened to us to ever happen to anyone else.

But, similar things happen all the time, don't they? And, we understand better than most, don't we?

Life is sometimes incredibly unfair. But, we usually get through the bad times. And, following the shower of misery, we can turn our eyes heavenward and glimpse the appearance of a brilliantly beautiful rainbow of hope.

Email: michael.goforth@scripps.com; 772-409-1332; Twitter: @MichaelGoforth

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