When we first visited St. John, one of the three US Virgin Islands, we immediately fell in love with the “Love City,” as the locals call it.
Life on the island was laid-back and relaxed, people were hardworking and kind, and the environment was beautiful, lush and for the most part,untouched. Fifteen years later, my husband and I and our three young children were vacationing on the island when we heard that Category 5 Hurricane Irma was headed our way. Unfortunately we could not get a flight out, and had no choice but to hunker down and weather it out.
On the morning that Hurricane Irma hit, knots formed in my chest as I watched the spinning hurricane symbol on The Weather Channel, wishing that it would suddenly spin north and out to sea. I knew that wouldn’t happen, but I was trying to grasp at any glimmer of hope that it would not be a direct hit. It was a feeling of helplessness and regret.
We received the warning that Irma would be there soon and we should stay away from the “hurricane-proof” windows. Those windows were perfect for gazing out at the beach on most days, but were not what we wanted between us and the 185 mph winds that day. My family retreated to a back windowless bedroom, making sure our phones, water, food, flashlights and shoes were in reach. We heard the wind howling and debris slamming against the building, and felt the walls shuddering around us. Before long we noticed water seeping in and soaking the carpets. Once we lost power, we encouraged our kids to sleep, as that is the only thing they could do.
My husband and I took turns going into the front room and peering out the curtains. It was terrifying — we could barely see anything out the windows, and the glass was shaking. The wind made an enormous howling sound that I can still hear in my head — indescribable but sort of like a train whistle. Water was seeping in through the front glass seams as well. I heard the ceiling creak and wondered if it would cave in, which I would later hear happened in some of the other rooms.
After about 4 hours, we felt the worst was over — although it was still windy and rainy, we could see out the window. When it was safe enough to go out, we were utterly speechless. The day before, right next to our villa we strolled through a beautiful and lush pathway lined with trees, shrubbery and other vegetation. Now all I saw were broken trees, snapped in half, no leaves in sight. It was like a movie with the remains of dead trees in the middle of a desert. The resort’s utility carts were twisted, bent and blown over, and one was partially in a pool.
We walked the grounds the next day and observed complete devastation. Pieces of roofs were missing. All trees in sight were cracked and broken. Debris was all over, including pieces of roof tiles, tree branches, and boards, some with nails and some without. The beach was littered with boats that were anchored in the bay before they were blown violently to shore. Remnants of boat life were scattered on the beach — dive equipment, buoys and other gear — signs of people’s livelihoods that were forever changed that day.
We regained power from the generator overnight, and regained water the next day. We had intermittent and weak cell signal — if we were lucky we might be able to send or receive a text message if standing in the “hot spot” on the beach. The hardest part of the immediate aftermath was the lack of communication. While we knew we were safe, we could only imagine what our loved ones were going through wondering about us and our safety. That “ding!” of a text message coming in was music to our ears during the time we were on St. John. Three days post-Irma we were evacuated to Puerto Rico on one of the first boats out, and five days after that we were able to secure a flight back home.
While we had a home to return to, the lives of the 4,500 St. John residents were changed dramatically that Sept. 6, and many will never recover. Many were in homes without hurricane-proof glass, and without reinforced structures. Some families sought protection under mattresses after their roofs had blown off. Others were forced to run outside during the hurricane to seek shelter with neighbors after their homes were destroyed. Others thought they were going die while seeking shelter in dark, flooding closets. It will be months and possibly years before St. John will be rebuilt and have some resemblance of normalcy.
The residents that were affected by Hurricane Irma — and then Maria — desperately need our help. Unlike those on the continental US, residents of these islands will have very limited access to basic resources — it will be months before power is restored in many locations.
People wishing to help can donate to a reputable charity in the US Virgin Islands or Puerto Rico that will assist our fellow US citizens in rebuilding their lives. One such organization is St. John Rescue, Inc.(stjohnrescue.com), an all-volunteer non-profit organization on St. John, which was the first group to mobilize while the hurricane was still raging and has been active responders from the onset.
Seals is general counsel and corporate secretary for Zippo Manufacturing Co.
