We weren’t afraid. Truthfully, we weren’t scared at all. Yes, a very nasty storm was tearing through The Bahamas, but projections were for the storm to skate our coast and weaken a little bit. My wife and I are from Florida. She from Tallahassee, me from Miami. We’ve seen our fair share of storm scares. I sat smack dab in the cross hairs of Hurricane Andrew in August of 1992. I know Hurricane fear and Matthew wasn’t it. Anything Category 2 or below and we aren’t going anywhere. Category 3 gets our attention. A predicted direct hit from a Category 4 and we were planning to leave. For quite some time, Matthew was a 4. We were paying attention, but we chose to stay.
Nervous? Maybe a little. But not scared.
As Matthew blasted The Bahamas, we watched East Central Florida line up for the next hit. Ft. Pierce, Sebastian, Vero Beach. We know the area well. I was heartbroken for that part of my home state, but ultimately we knew that if the eye came onshore there as some had predicted, then it would spell good news (well, better news) for us here in Coastal Georgia. So like everyone else, we sat, watched and waited sipping on a glass of wine or a cold beer.
The night before the storm downtown Savannah was part ghost town, part party town. We recalled Hurricane Floyd in 1999 when some estimates claimed that 65% of Chatham County had left town. This time around, businesses were boarded up. Streets were empty. Except for a couple of spots where you could see lights, activity and food being served. Yes, ahead of the storm.
Six Pence Pub and Hitch were both open and filled with, it seemed like, everyone who had chosen to stay home and not run from Matthew. The beer was flowing, the music was booming. Televisions were up in a corner on mute allowing patrons to keep one sober eye on The Weather Channel. Seemed not too many left behind were scared either. That has a way of helping you justify your choices. We all found a way to convince each other that it was going to be OK. Hanging with friends ahead of a storm can be incredibly therapeutic. At this point we were hours away from the full effect of the storm, but we were having a few laughs with some friends. Does this seem odd? Well, maybe a little.
I sat my 14 year old daughter down that night and asked her if she was wondering why we hadn’t left town. She had. “All anyone says on TV is leave as soon as you can.” We explained to her our reasons for staying. The storm wasn’t strong enough (at Category 2) to truly impact us 15 or more miles inland in downtown Savannah. If it were stronger, we’d have left to Atlanta already. I told her about my experience with Andrew and made sure that she understood we would not endanger our family. We would need to be vigilant though the night, but we’d be OK.
As Matthew rolled through our area and I watched on radar, I also watched a very large tree in my neighbors yard. I watched it sway with every violent gust of wind. Just as I thought during Andrew that the next strong gust was going to take my grandmother’s roof, I thought the next big gust here would bring down that tree. Possibly on my house. I dozed off, but I watched. Amazing how a gust of wind can sound loud enough to wake you up. The fear was real.
I sat in my window looking out like a little boy waiting for the sun to return, cell phone in hand. In between glances at Facebook posts and radar peeks, I stared at that tree, praying it wouldn’t come down. That tree never came down. I watched the worst of the radar come on shore at Hilton Head Island. I saw a Facebook post from WSAV Meteorologist Lee Haywood saying Tybee Island had 11 feet of water and had measured a wind gust of 90 miles per hour. I was afraid there’d be little left of that island. We lost power in my house for all of 15 seconds in the middle of the night. The rain eventually stopped, but the strong winds continued for a couple of hours.
A little after 7:00am that morning I defied the voice in my head that was telling me not to go outside. My business partner, Senea Crystal lives a few blocks away from me. She also chose to ride out the storm. I knew she had lost power the night before. My street was a mess, but how bad was it out there? I had to know. I drove to her home and saw trees, big trees down in the middle of the street. No one was outside yet. Getting around downtown was a task. I got there and saw a mess on Monterey Square. Bull Street near Forsyth Park. I knocked on her door, she was asleep, but otherwise OK.
The mess in the streets broke my heart. That led to me going live on Facebook.
As residents trickled out onto Savannah streets, we knew the cleanup would be days, maybe weeks long. Most people I talked to had no power. There was talk of extensive damage and flooding in other parts of town. The best thing I could do was get home and let all of my friends know they were more than welcome to safe haven at my house. I had power, hot water, showers, food, coffee and the short term diversion of college football on my TV.
The week since has been filled with a parade of Facebook posts from people upset that they still had no power. Some celebrating that their power had finally come back on. Some of my friends lost cars or lost the better part of their homes. There’s even been loss of life. A widow told she’d not be able to return to the home where her husband was crushed by a fallen tree for weeks. Maybe months. Undoubtedly she says she may never want to return to that house with her two children.
The talk of damage in the Low Country was equally as bad, if not worse, in some cases. I checked on a restaurant owner friend of mine asking when he thought he’d re-open. He didn’t know. He didn’t have a staff, he didn’t have power and he sent me a photo of tree through the ceiling of his kitchen in his home. I don’t think brunch specials were the first thing on his mind. Frankly, that was my turning point.
Ahead of the storm I had postponed interviews for Eat It and Like It. We were scheduled to participate at the St. Simon’s Island Food and Spirits Festival. It was going to be a great weekend in Georgia’s Golden Isles. Last Sunday was supposed to bring the 2nd Savannah Food Truck Festival to Daffin Park. As we clean up and try to get back to work, it’s not exactly easy for me to call on a chef and say “hey, can I stop by and interview you for my TV show?” That’s to say nothing of the 5 day curfew in Savannah that cost so many lost revenue and lost wages. It has been nothing short of a mess.
A little perspective is in order. A little time to get our streets cleaned up. Get awnings back in place. Get staff back in place and get our lives back in order as best we can for now.
We have a pretty full slate of new episodes of Eat It and Like It lined up. They are coming soon. For now, we are going to let our restaurant industry and the people that make it as good as it is catch their breath. New episodes will return on Sunday, October 30th.
Wishing you and your families the best,
Jesse
