Tuesday, 16 Oct 2018

Sorry no pics. As no internet connection, no point writing a +Time blogpost, so maybe this becomes a journal. Or diary entry for Tuesday, 16 October 2018. Checking out of Hilton Garden Inn, we left Pensacola midmorning yesterday and drove “home” to Panama City.

Thankful that Britany works for Wyndham, we are at Emerald Beach Resort, waterfront, facing sugar white beach, shoreline and calm, peaceful Gulf of Mexico, Panama City Beach. 2 BR 2 bath. Plus, PCB resort style, stack of two bunkbeds in the hallway, a neat and convenient arrangement. Ray, Britany, Lilly, Kristen, Malinda, Linda, me.

Vice immediately back to life as usual and as expected after Malinda’s endovascular procedure into the brain, she seems not to be recovering as quickly as we anticipated. 

Yesterday soon after arriving here we had lunch then drove into StAndrews to check on. We went direct, via Front Beach Road not Thomas Drive, so didn’t see that, but from what storm damage we did see, Hurricane Michael seems to have been nearly as reluctant as locals to “cross the bridge.” From Hathaway Bridge east, we drove into increasing devastation. Massive trees down, tall, enormous pines, centuries old heritage oaks. Beyond what my parents and grandparents called Little Dothan into StAndrews it intensified grievously, though those built to recent hurricane codes seem significantly better than older structures. Clearing crews doing marvelous work, huge cut tree trunks and brush, their vegetation, stacked six and eight feet high along both sides of streets. Malinda’s devastated house waiting for insurance adjuster and, my opinion, demolition, it’s that grave. Open to the weather and two walls leaning to the south, supporting roof that, in my judgment, could come down at any wind, bringing the roof with. We cleared trees and limbs from and moved M’s car into the Harbour Village garage, which was not breached by the hurricane surge. 

Finding HV main lobby elevators working, I went up to 7H. Some ceilings damp, stained, walls damp and peeling, “wood” floor tiles buckled and crumbling. Took some art down from damp walls before they’re ruined by dampness and mildew. 

Tuesday update. Linda and I left at 8 AM for a condo association meeting at 9 AM, but traffic from PCB into PC so dense and crawling that we arrived after 10 AM. So we went to 7H for another look and took a few things. Condo Association management, a totally “with it” outfit,  has construction workers on site beginning corrections, a security fence being installed, all condo doors opened to allow drying out to begin; generators brought in to begin drying out with dehumidifiers. Our treasures are mainly artwork, and we will need to return, maybe tomorrow, to continue moving and saving things. 

One thing that springs to evidence is how crippled we modern Americans are when electronics go out. Cell phones don’t work, no WiFi, no texting, communications almost nonexistent in a way that, I keep reminding myself, would not bother George Washington in the least. 

And then there’s our collect about not earthly things that are passing away, but minding things heavenly that shall endure: I’m contemplating a post-7H life significantly simpler and less anchored. For example, my sister Gina sold her home, bought a motorhome and, like some 21st century gypsy of old, is on the move. 

Ray & Britany’s car, a 2018 Chevrolet Equinox, has access to WiFi through Onstar, a hotspot, so after we finish lunch we’re going out to the car to see if I can post and transmit this.

T+