Helene Was a Real B*tch

I met my wife in the 1980s in Florida, and we’ve moved around since then. Fast forward 30-plus years and we’re back in the Treasure Island part of St. Pete in the Tampa Bay region. 

Until this year, Tampa Bay hadn’t experienced severe storms. Mark 2024 as the year our luck ran out.

• In August, Debby was a Cat 1 that did a very slow drive-by 100 miles due west. She caused 36 hours of loud wind, but little damage to our area. 
• In September, Helene passed on the same track, except it was 75 miles west and was a Cat 4, resulting in an unprecedented storm surge for our local area. 
• In October (only two weeks after Helene), Milton came onshore as a Cat 3 just south of us and the winds tore up everything around us.

Helene was the bad one for our little 68-year-old cottage. A 7-foot storm surge moved water from nearby Boca Ciega Bay onto our entire neighborhood, soaking every house and car with 3-4 feet of sea water.

In the days following devastation like this, your senses are completely overloaded:

• The sights of homeowners wandering around the street, moving all their belongings and furniture to the curb, not sure what to do with a completely soaked inside. 
• The sounds of sirens almost 24 x 7. They were after looters, but they were also rescuing trapped residents and recovering bodies, too, on boats and in houses.
• The smells — a combination of sea water, rotting refrigerator food and sewer backup.

We had insurance on our home: flood and wind. Some of the saddest realities were faced by the old-timers who had lived in our neighborhood for years and who couldn’t afford insurance. And they hadn’t self-insured. Many homes are on the market “as is,” meaning they’re completely empty of appliances and cabinets — just gutted.

What do you do without insurance? I don’t know. FEMA was handing out $750 for “living expenses and food” — that’s it. To qualify for more than that you needed a degree in rocket science to fill out the paperwork. There were FEMA tents set up but many could not get there because their cars were flooded.

FEMA did come by in their massive trucks and claws to pick up people’s trash.

Fun with adjusters

We had some back-and-forth with our flood insurance adjuster. He was an excellent communicator, keeping us up to speed on the process, which was a two-month ordeal and quicker than other claimants with whom I spoke. Ultimately, it was a fair settlement, as I had suspected. I had wondered what appliances are considered “Coverage A: Building (if you turn the house upside down and it stays in place, it is building)” versus “Coverage B: Contents.” I learned that as far as appliances go, only the washer and dryer are considered Contents in flood insurance parlance, at least on our policy.

Everyone we talked with — without exception — fully expected to get screwed over by their insurance companies. We deserve a better reputation than this. Whose fault is it: 

• Reinsurers tormenting primary carriers without pricing restraints? 
• State regulators mucking around with private industry? 
• Greedy insurance executives cherry-picking prime risks and avoiding the rest? 
• Lazy or overworked agents who rinse-and-repeat coverages without asking customers what has changed in their lives in the last year? 
• Policyholders who won’t take the time to consider what the contract says, and what might be excluded?
• Public adjusters and lawyers enthusiastically jumping into the game?
• More and more and more storms hitting every part of the USA?

Teachable ideas

What did we learn from this high-touch personal experience?

• Network. Get to know your neighbors now. You’ll want to be able to converse via text and share news, government updates, ideas for contractors and key phone numbers.
• Take inventory. Go around with your smartphone and video or photo all your rooms. Open drawers and cabinets. Explain what is there as you record. Watching residents try to reconstruct this after the storm was truly depressing.
• Fund the loss. In this property insurance market, it’s hard to blame people who say they’re going to self-insure or take huge deductibles. Obviously, they’ll need to actually build up a self-insurance bucket. 
• Downsize. Channel your inner Marie Kondo. Get rid of crap — knick-knacks, furniture, clothing and plain old “stuff” now. 
• Prepare. When a storm is looming, charge your phones and backup chargers. Fill the car with gas. Have a “go bag” with your important papers, flashlights, batteries, cash, sturdy shoes. 
• Help others. If you’re in a position to help, there are so many things you might do.

-- Get a list of resources even if you aren’t as affected, as you’ll run into people who need help. FEMA and Red Cross are examples. 

-- Start a group text with your friends, your neighbors, your clubs. Support each other and offer help. My wife’s tennis team was doing laundry for those impacted. My hockey team helped each other take wet furniture and sheetrock to the curb.

-- Get gift cards from the local grocery store to hand out to people you know, or don’t know, whether it’s a waiter or a bartender or a housekeeper who is affected. 

-- If you have a spare room or a spare home, offer it up for free or cheap. We ran into a woman who had nowhere to sleep except her moldy condo, which had been soaked with seawater.

-- If you put your stuff to the curb, it is fair game for the “pickers.” It’s not looting if you intend to toss it. Let them have it! It will reduce your pile of trash, which you will have to deal with at some point.

• Be patient. Be kind even when those around you are losing it. I saw a lot of people staring into space at their situation. With all their wet belongings and furniture piled up at the street for FEMA pickup, they just stared.
• Be safe. In no uncertain terms, I do not recommend “riding it out” when it comes to storms. There is nothing you can do to stop the damage once it starts. If you have advance warning, take your cars, pets, and other important items and get out of dodge. Turn off your main electric breaker and water main on your way out the door. You won’t put your family (and first responders) in danger and have to sit potentially for days or weeks in a hot, smelly home without A/C, running water or operable sewers. 

After these storms, “You need a sense of humor and a well-stocked liquor cabinet.” That’s advice from my Aartrijk colleague Rosalie Donlon.

As we put a bow on 2024, for me, this wasn’t the best of years. But it could have been a lot worse, and for that, I am feeling truly blessed and lucky. In times like these we should appreciate what and who we have in our lives.

In that spirit, I wish you a peaceful and safe holiday season surrounded by friends and family. 

And I wish you all the best for 2025.