August 24, 1992 -- A Day We Always Remember

I guess that even or significant numbered anniversaries get the most press, and last year, 8/24/16, was the TWENTY FIFTH anniversary of a life changing event for us. This year it's been 26 years gone by -- and passed with much less notice.

But I remembered. Yesterday was the anniversary of Hurricane Andrew, at the time the costliest natural disaster in US history, and for us, the scariest.

I had moved to Miami in '79 and heard about storms, but never went through one. I remember leaving UM and heading to Delray as a few threatened in the early 80s -- we'd put masking tape on the windows like the other NY transplants at the condo, not understanding that was a completely useless task. A piece of debris hurtling at your plate glass at over 100 mph doesn't care much about your masking tape...

In college, we had hurricane parties, which involved heavy drinking as the storm skirted us. So I had no real experience with these dangerous storms.  I barely paid attention to Andrew as it came towards us, other than to make a decision. My 72 year old Mom was with us -- she seemed SO elderly at the time, less so as I slog towards that age -- and we had to decide whether to return her to Delray Beach or keep her with us in South Dade. The storm appeared to be jogging north, so we kept her with us.

Our house, built in 1980, was a classic piece of crap built, developer paid off inspectors to get it passed, structure. The thing looked nice -- all sharp white lines and an indoor atrium -- but the roof decking was stapled on, not properly nailed.

And then came the cyclone.  We huddled in baby D2's room -- it was on the NW side of the house, away from the winds. D2 was 6 months old, and D1 was three.  I recall sitting next to a wall, by an electric outlet, and feeling a rush of air -- sort of like being in a swimming pool near the outlet from the filter pump. It was air rushing down through the studs and out through the outlet.  The wind increased, and we heard the infamous screech -- like animals fighting on the roof, with a freight train passing-like rumble. The animal sound was the roof decking being peeled off.

The ceiling above us bowed with water. I led us all through the dark to the car in the garage -- I figured if that ceiling collapsed, at least we'd have the car roof to give us some protection.  I got in the driver's seat, and put D1 in the passenger seat. Wifey and Mom were in the back -- Wifey holding D2. We left the dogs -- a huge Lab and small cocker, outside. They weren't having it, and somehow leapt though the open window to join us.

I was scared. Not for myself, but for the Ds and elderly Mom. I watched Bryan Norcross, the voice in the darkness for many of us, on a battery powered TV I had. He was amazing -- literally talked us through it ("If you're near the Falls, the eye just passed -- do NOT go out -- it's going to get worse soon.").  Hours passed. The house flooded. Entire structures were ripped off and blown away. The glass atrium IMPLODED. A huge high window in the master bedroom shattered from a part of the neighbor's house that sailed through like a battering ram. Staying in the master would have been deadly.

Finally, as the sun came up, the winds subsided. I got out -- went outside. My street was gone, mostly. It truly looked as if a bomb had directly hit. I saw some neighbors -- it appeared that no one was hurt. But Manny, across the street, was crying -- he had paid off his mortgage a few months before, and forgotten to renew his insurance. He'd have to pay all the losses.

Mom, Wifey, and the Ds were intact. I got on a bicycle to ride to my in law's house, a mile and a half north, in Kendale. I was able to navigate the obstacle course that was 107 Ave, past buzzing downed power lines, and people walking around dazed and confused -- and not from weed.

I found Rachel and Richard fine -- they had stayed in a closet. And their house -- built well in the 50s, with Dade County pine tongue and groove roof, had exactly one broken window. Their total damage ended up being about $5000.

I biked back home, helped the women get packed, and piled into my car. We caravaned up to my Mom's condo, and stayed a few days -- blissfully with power. My in laws returned home -- they camped out in their house for a month. They had survived the Nazi concentration camps -- living without electric was no big deal.

Wifey's friend Linda lived on Brickell Key -- relatively untouched by the storm. She KNEW we were wrecked -- and ran to the rental office and snagged the second to last open apartment for us. It was an act of kindness and savvy I will always be thankful for.  We moved the Ds and 2 dogs into the Island Club -- it would be our home until New Year's Eve, when we would move into my in law's house -- they had decamped to Century Village in Pembroke Pines.  But that's another, of many, Andrew related stories.

The point is, for any of us living in South Dade in August of '92, the term "before or after" is instantly recognizable.

1992, looking back, turned out to be an excellent year for us. D2 was born in February, I settled and got paid for my first multi million dollar case, and Andrew converted so much of our crap into money -- money I invested, and which provides security to us even today.

So it was 26 years ago.  I don't think I'll ever forget.