Andrew Day

 33 years ago today was a very scary dawn. Wifey and I had a 3 year old and 6 year old, now known as the Ds, as well as a 95 lb black lab and normal sized cocker spaniel, as well as a confused Grandma Sunny, all holed up in our house west of the Falls. We kept Sunny with us since the weather forecasters thought a tropical cyclone headed our way would strike up north, and we didn't want the 72 year old to be alone in her condo. Well, Hurricane Andrew jogged south, and hit us -- hard.

Our house, built in 1980, was a textbook case of poor Miami construction during the boom times, with paid off inspectors approving roof decks stapled rather than nailed to trusses. As the Cat 5 came over, the roof decking flew off, clere story windows exploded, and an interior glass atrium we had imploded. We huddled in a front bedroom, away from the approaching storm, and as I sat against the wall I felt the sensation you feel when you back into an outlet in a swimming pool. The wind, rushing down through the studs, was coming out through the electrical outlet behind me. Man -- that was power.

The ceiling above us filled with water and started to cave in. I figured it was time to move -- to my 1992 leased Mitsubishi Diamante parked in the garage. My thought was that when the garage ceiling collapsed, at least we'd be protected by the roof of the car. We loaded Grandma and D1 into the back, and Wifey held D2 and nursed her in the front passenger seat. The dogs were outside, until Midnight said in Labrador "Oh HELL NAH," and leapt up and into the car. I got Alfred the Spaniel, too, and all living mammals rode out the storm that way.

Like most of we Andrew victims, we listened and watched Bryan Norcross on a battery powered tiny TV, and he was amazing -- truly comforting us, and giving exact updates "If you're near Metro Zoo, the eye is passing now -- do NOT go outside -- it's about to get much worse."

Years later, I saw him in Tally, at a Canes game (he's a Nole) and hugged him. Thousands of others did the same.

Anyway, as the morning passed, the winds died down. And that awful sound subsided. I can now tell you that the sound of roof decking being pried off sounds like animals fighting on your roof, with a freight train rumbling in the background. You never forget the sound.

But...the Big Man was kind, and we all made it. I walked out to see the ruins of SW 136 Street -- truly like a bomb had hit. We joked that we wanted big trees in the back yard someday -- now we had them -- 2 100 footers, but they were horizontal and came from several houses away. Our metal patio roof -- nowhere to be found, ever. And the house was full of "pink cotton candy" as Wifey called it -- the dropped fiberglass insulation.

I got on my bike and rode north to see my suegros -- just 1.5 miles away. I found them huddled in a closet but fine. Their 1950s era built house, with the tongue and groove Dade County Pine roof decking, was fine -- one broken window and a total of $5K in damage -- they got a new roof and AC out of the ordeal.

I rode my bike back and loaded the clan into the car -- we spent a hot, no AC night at my suegros, having weaved my way through downed trees and power lines up SW 107 Avenue. The next day we drove to Delray and my Mom's condo -- caravanned with my father in law Richard. They only spent one night and returned to their house -- where they lived for a month without power. I think my suegro kind of enjoyed it -- reminded him of camping in the forests outside of Lodz when he was a boy -- before the Nazis came and ruined everything.

Wifey's friend Linda did us a MAJOR solid -- knowing we were clearly wrecked, she ran to the rental office of her Brickell Key apartment, the Island Club, and put a deposit down on a 2 bedroom unit for us. We moved in that week -- and our friends Jeff and Lili scooped up the last unit with their 6 month old, Melinda.

We stayed until New Year's Eve, when we moved into my in law's house, which we bought from them with insurance money -- they were looking to move to Century Village in Pembroke Pines before the storm, and did so in early December.

And that Kendale house, where Wifey lived during high school days at Killian, was just fine. I put up a fence so that no kids or dogs would wander into the canal, and D1 started kindergarten while D2 was in preschool at the no longer existent temple Bet Breira.

Our house wasn't ready to return to until March of 1994 -- 1.5 years later. We ended up keeping the Kendale house as a rental, which led to meeting Rabbi Yossi and Nechama, our second tenants.

And a lot of life got lived. My suegros and Mom are now long passed on. The toddle and baby Ds are grown ass women -- D1 nearing middle age, as I love to remind her and she hates to hear. We have 2 grandsons and hopefully more to come.

Wifey's been on Medicare nearly 4 years, and I hope to begin next July. I started a law firm with my brother of another Paul, and we're still a going concern, sort of, turning 31 this November.

And the lesson of Andrew resonates to this day. Your possessions, most of which we lost -- are just so much crap. All they do is clutter up your life. But your people -- now those are sacred.

Many of us profited greatly from insurance claims -- causing us to rename the storm "St. Andrew." I ended up paying off my student loans, and owning 2 houses mortgage free -- our residence much larger and improved. We converted cheap, Scandinavian furniture into stocks and muni bonds -- which have done much better as assets over the past decades than said furniture and collectibles would have.

So I have no complaints. But we will never forget that very, very, scary dawn.