Saturday, August 14, 2004

Sunlight brought our first view of a post-Charley landscape, our first chance to assess the toll.

For some, there was relief. For others, despair.

Marilyn Bean, her yellow rain slicker still tucked under her arm, clasped her hand over her mouth and tried not to cry. The 78-year-old lived in the Windmill Village mobile-home park of Punta Gorda, a small retirement community that had been ground zero for the hurricane. Charley had hit with sustained 145-mph winds.It looked as if a bomb had been dropped.

For those who could watch the news or get a newspaper, it was a day of numbers: At least 13 dead. Two million without power. Two thousand Florida National Guard troops called out to patrol, rescue and clean up. Billions of dollars in property damage.

In downtown Orlando, 582 people had sought refuge at the Red Cross emergency shelter set up at Howard Middle School. By 9 a.m., a few still lingered by the door, wondering where to go, where to start.

“They’re saying no power for a week,” said Ann Kelly, who grabbed her cat and loaded her SUV. “I’m going to St. Augustine. Maybe by the ƒè time I get back we’ll have air-conditioning again.”

In many places, you couldn’t get there from here. Roads were blocked by felled trees, telephone poles and downed power lines. Stoplights didn’t work. Orlando International Airport was closed until mid-afternoon.Here and there, a Denny’s or McDonald’s was open, if you didn’t mind the hour -- or two or three -- wait.There was no ice and, in some places, no water.

If you had a generator or a gas-fueled chain saw, you had power in more ways than one. If you shared them, you were a prince and a savior.

On Henkel Circle in Winter Park, neighbors who had never met worked together to clear massive uprooted oaks from the streets. Someone fetched Dunkin’ Donuts and coffee to go around.

“Now,” Curt Thornton said, “we know what we all look like without makeup.”

You could say the same of the landscape.