A Veteran's Journey

So… this just happened.

Pardon the short blog, but I’m drafting this from my cell phone with spotty cell and Internet service in a place I didn’t think I’d be.

Several months ago, I volunteered for UMCOR ERT (United Methodist Committee on Relief – Early Response Team). They are one of many groups who go in after a disaster to assist.

After a few training sessions… yeah, I can do this. At almost 68 years old, I can still deploy. Albeit, not as quickly as I could 49 years ago in the Navy.

I’m down in Fort Myers, which, as you no doubt have seen, was heavily damaged by Hurricane Ian. There was lots of wind damage, of course. But the biggest impact to this area was water from the storm surge.

A team of 11 of us drove down last Thursday (October 6, 2022); five in a Suburban hauling a trailer and six of us in a church van. I should mention that we are from Trinity UMC in Gainesville. Becky & I have been members since the early 90s.

The last time I traveled in a van this size was in May, earlier this year… someone else was driving… and she drove our tour group (9 of us) around the “Wild Atlantic Way” in Ireland. A bucket list trip for us.

Well… this van trip was quite different. We didn’t know we’d be going until last week. Since this is my first deployment with ERT, I didn’t have a clue what to expect. But with the help of others, great leadership, and lots of prayers, it all came together… very quickly.

The Good Shepherd UMC in North Fort Myers was our base camp. The seven men had their own room and the four women had theirs. Air mattresses, sleeping bags, cots, whatever. Pastor Tom and his mission team already had dinner ready for us when we arrived, late Thursday. A most welcome surprise after the 5-hour drive down – yes, there was a “bit of traffic.”

Dinner was delish, and the hospitality so superb, we began calling this the Good Shepherd UMC Hilton (I hope it’s okay to say this). Well, except for the “Boil Water” notices all over the church.

They not only provided a hot dinner, but they packed us bag lunches for our FRI work. (And, it turns out, SAT, too!).

We still didn’t know our assignment until Friday morning. The term, “fluid,” was used quite often, especially during the first few days / weeks after a disaster such as this. Trying to coordinate help, not only with first responders and volunteers, but also just trying to reach out and find those who need help.

Friday was our first day “on the job.” I decided not to post specific photos, since there may be privacy issues. However, let me describe some things to you… more than the images and videos you’ve already seen of piles and piles of wood, appliances, carpets, furniture & bedding along both sides of neighborhood streets.

The house we’re assigned is within view of the Caloosahatchee River.

First, walking into the house through sliding glass doors (still intact) and passing by the kitchen area, you couldn’t walk to get to the back area of the kitchen. Furniture from the living room had been “distributed” to several other rooms, including the kitchen.

Did I mention the Caloosahatchee River was RUNNING THROUGH THE HOUSE for more than a day? Did I mention the waterline IN THE HOUSE was waist high? On me, that’s about four feet, for probably more than a day.

Now, just imagine yourself in a swimming pool… on the shallow end, about 3 1/2 to four feet deep… walking around. You’re able to see your wiggling toes and the water is cool, clean, clear, and almost drinkable. You could spend hours just basking in the sun & water.

Now imagine that “pool” dark brown – almost black – full of leaves, mud, branches, palm fronds, lizards, frogs, and Lord knows what else is floating around. Did I mention the nearby railroad track was destroyed – most of it washed away? And all those huge railroad timbers were floating throughout many houses in this neighborhood.

Yeah… unimaginable.

The homeowner and her brother had already been back to the house a day or so before we arrived and moved a lot of personal items, trying to figure out what they could/should save. When we arrived, the river was back to “normal,” whatever that is/was. The yard was a bit damp, but no standing water.

Thank the good Lord they evacuated before they couldn’t. But I cannot imagine those first few hours/days of trying to take in what happened.

I initially asked myself several times, “Where do you start?”

I remember a line from the book/movie, “Under the Tuscan Sun” when the author bought a house in Italy and said, “Begin in one room, make it yours, then work your way out.”

Our amazing team leaders did just that: assigned us different tasks, different rooms. But when someone needed a little extra help, we jumped in. That’s what you do as a team.

Which reminded me many times of my days in the Navy.

You never know when you’re needed, but when you’re needed, you go. I can’t say enough about this team, working together, doing their work. On a mission like this, you grow together and you bond together, even while back at base camp. The team shares what they did, what they saw, and what they felt. I know we all experienced a range of emotions, feelings, and questions of “Why?”

This sharing definitely helped me.

But one of the things I witnessed through these three days was everyone took time with the homeowners. I know they experienced a range of emotions and sometimes all you can do is give a hug and listen.

One thing that helped me was taking a photo of the kitchen area as we walked in, as well as a shot of another room I helped clean out. Then, at then end of yesterday, I took another photo of the cleared spaces.

You know… the BEFORE and AFTER shots. When I looked at them last night, I knew we’d accomplished something… something good. The reason we are here.

Devastation surrounded us. No one in that area was spared. There’s a short story that we shared, which helped put things into perspective for me.

One day a man was walking along the beach, when he noticed a boy hurriedly picking up and gently throwing things into the ocean. Approaching the boy, he asked, “Young man, what are you doing?” The boy replied, “Throwing starfish back into the ocean. The surf is up and the tide is going out. If I don’t throw them back, they’ll die.” The man laughed to himself and said, “Don’t you realize there are miles and miles of beach and hundreds of starfish? You can’t make any difference!”

After listening politely, the boy bent down, picked up another starfish, and threw it into the surf. Then, smiling at the man, he said,

“I made a difference to that one.”

I should also mention in all this mess, you sometimes look for ‘moments.’ One came Friday morning when I turned over a cedar chest in one of the back rooms. The swirling, relentless water turned everything in that room on it’s side. I had to manhandle furniture just to get into the room. The homeowner was there with me. As I started pulling out sopping wet clothes, sheets, blankets, she said toss them all because they were so damaged. She suddenly reached down and pulled out a pair of jeans.

Although dripping wet, she unfolded them, held them in front of her, and smiled. “I made these myself in high school.” She looked at me and said, “they don’t fit anymore, but I’m keeping them.”

The colorful “hippy” sewn patches and hand-sewn rhinestones took me back to my high school years. I know my sister, Anne, had similar jeans.

I should ask her if she’s still got hers.

One of the other truly astonishing things was the sheer number of different groups of volunteers and individuals. I can’t tell you how many times someone came by the work site, offering us water or food. Or how many times we drove through neighborhoods with people on both sides offering food and water. We are fortunate in that we came with what we needed.

The term, “Amazing Grace” came to mind, more than once.

Second day… we were back at the same house. My job was to help take the kitchen apart. That meant emptying out the lower cabinets, taking out the range, and removing the countertops. You could see the counters had been underwater for quite a period of time. Several of us worked in the kitchen.

Everything I pulled out of the cabinet – both dishes and small appliances – was full of water. I started dumping the water into a bucket and carefully placing the breakables into plastic bins. We moved those to another dry area for the homeowner to sort at a later time.

What can be saved, what to toss? Every appliance – blenders, bread maker, mixers, waffle irons, all had water. Save the glass blender, glass coffee carafe, etc., but toss the electrical components.

As I emptied the coffee carafe, it was ironic that the water was the same color as I like my strong Navy coffee. I can hear my Navy friends saying, “Thank you for that visual image, Chet.”

Military veterans occasionally use the term, “sense of purpose.” That loosely translates to, “Why am I here?” I can tell you with certainty, our Trinity ERT felt that “sense of purpose.”

That’s probably enough for now.

But I’ll leave you with this. For several years my prayer mantra has been, “Lord, help those who need help. And help those who ‘help those who need help.'”

I can tell you that I felt those prayers… and blessings. I think we all did.

Until we meet again,
Andy

One last thing… Someone asked, “Would I do it again?”

ABSOLUTELY!