WORDS: Shannon Evans
MAIN PHOTO: City of Bradenton
Once you’ve lived in Florida long enough, you likely don’t bother with daily weather updates. From May to November, it’s hot, with those predictable 4 p.m. thunderstorms rolling through. From November to April, it’s less hot, and, if we’re lucky, we might get a day or two we call “chilly.” It’s predictable. There’s usually no need to scrutinize the forecast.
The exception, of course, is hurricane season.
This past October, I—like the rest of Manatee County—found myself glued to weather reports. We were still dealing with the aftermath of Hurricane Helene, but another storm, Hurricane Milton, was approaching fast. This time, it was headed straight for us.
The news outlets were quick to announce our 103-year streak without a direct hit was over. I don’t need to explain the tension around town—you probably felt it, too. You probably joined the long line for gas, saw the empty shelves in the stores, or got the email that schools were closing. The kids were thrilled—their version of a snow day. Us parents, on the other hand, were anxious and stressed, doing our best to hide it.
Maybe your kids noticed the anxiety and asked you questions like mine did: “Is our roof going to blow off?” Because that’s part of the fear, isn’t it? Not just the hurricane itself, but the looming unknown.
Perhaps you were in an evacuation zone, packing up and leaving without knowing what you might come back to. Or maybe, for you, the worst did happen—your home, your business, or the place you work was damaged or destroyed, leaving you scrambling to rebuild life as you knew it.
Strength in Solidarity
Our hearts go out to everyone who has been affected this hurricane season—whether by Debby, Helene, or Milton. This article serves as a heartfelt acknowledgment of the immense loss that many in our community have faced.
But it’s also a celebration of how, in the face of disaster, our community comes together. While crises often make us look inward, they can also lead us to look outward, finding ways to support those around us. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, good can bloom from even the worst circumstances. Maybe you made a new friend with a neighbor you hadn’t spoken to before. Or perhaps you found unexpected generosity from complete strangers.
PHOTO: Mercy Chefs
To those who helped neighbors board up windows or take down shutters—thank you. To those who volunteered at shelters or operated sandbag stations, putting off their own hurricane prep to help others—thank you. To first responders and law enforcement (like my brother) who worked during the storm, navigating crazy winds—thank you. To everyone who showed up to friends or family’s—or strangers’—houses after the storm with mops, chainsaws, and generators, helping to clean up, repair, and rebuild—thank you.
There are so many stories like these across our county. One acquaintance, along with her five kids, was displaced when a tree fell on their house, but fellow mom friends stepped up to help her find shelter. Some people focused on helping friends and neighbors, while others joined efforts with larger organizations. Groups like The Cajun Navy set up in a Lowe’s parking lot, handing out supplies and hot meals. Mercy Chefs operated out of Bayside Community Church, serving over 37,000 hot meals. Churches rallied their congregations, circulating ‘I Can Help’ or ‘I Need Help’ forms to mobilize teams of volunteers to meet the community’s needs.
And let’s not forget the disaster relief funds. Even if you couldn’t get out there with a chainsaw, maybe you donated to funds set up by organizations like the Manatee Community Foundation, Gulf Coast Community Foundation, and the Community Foundation of Sarasota County. With help from partners, these foundations have been able to coordinate an incredible amount of financial assistance for those whose lives have been turned upside down.
We Rise, Resilient
Whether you lost everything or just had to endure a brief power outage, these recent hurricanes have touched every resident. Even those who were relatively lucky couldn’t ignore the impact—like families missing out on a weekend at the beach in the beautiful post-storm weather.
PHOTO: School District of Manatee County
For me personally, the days after Hurricane Milton felt surreal as I drove through our streets. Roads cluttered with debris, familiar landmarks damaged or gone. I mourned the change, the loss. My kids looked on in awe at massive fallen trees. I also experienced that which many others expressed: a kind of physical, mental, and emotional fatigue. The quietest my house had been that entire week was when the eye of the storm passed over us—and as everyone else might agree, that is not a peaceful kind of quiet.
Then, like everyone else, we took small steps toward normalcy. Although life constantly reminds us that ‘normal’ can disappear in an instant, there’s comfort in knowing that we can always rely on each other for support. In the face of uncertainty, one thing remains steady: the strength of this community. The storms may have passed, but the desire to help others, to rebuild, and to stand together remains stronger than ever.
