Nate Monroe: Florida, the most dangerous state
Nate Monroe
COMMENTARY | The head wishes it away — westward, northward, eastward, anywhere but hereward. The heart knows what a cruel thing that is: to will a hurricane onto someone else. But both understand this is the Faustian bargain we made to live among the flowers and beside the sea.
Florida’s siren call has duped us all for generations, each new arrival more arrogant than the last.
Always, we convince ourselves our own fates will be different. Why? We’ve built denser and higher, clogged nature’s shut-off valves, spoiled its soil, dug deeper into its waterways.
Just look at that thing. It’s as big as the state.
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Get bottled water. Get toilet paper. Get cash. Fill up the car. Schools are closed. The kid is home from school. Everything is harder. Stow away the patio furniture. Stow away your weekend plans.
The pines in the back look taller, shakier, a touch malevolent. We'll cut them down in time for next season. Promise. Next season. Ugh. There is always a next season, isn't there?
When it comes to storms, you also have to pray for low tide
Florida's peak hurricane season coincides with the time of year our natural tides are their most extreme, a cruel joke that turns space and time against us — it's not just a hurricane's path that matters but also its time of arrival. Pray for low tide.
What exactly does our flood insurance cover?
Insurance. Heh.
"It will politically be exceptionally difficult to make the changes necessary to fix this mess ...," state Sen. Jeff Brandes, a Republican, said last week of Florida's faltering property insurance market.
It turns out governing involves a lot more than performing, but Florida elected a performer in chief. Having fun?
Florida is beset by enemies around and within. Why do we do this to ourselves?
We thought we were living in paradise but instead, we became a haven for greedy developers, greedy utilities, seedy politicians, scammers, and surface parking.
One time of year this becomes a problem, and then that one time of year passes and we forget. Until the next year. The insurance market continues to crumble. The algal blooms grow. The same neighborhoods flood. The problems are complicated, and so the problems stay.
This is a prayer we change.
The hurricanes remind us what we are: temporary, imperfect, vulnerable. And they remind us who we are: human beings.
Help your neighbor in need — because you may need their help next time.
Nate Monroe is a metro columnist whose work regularly appears every Thursday and Sunday. Follow him on Twitter @NateMonroeTU.