A Blessed Life!

Just a short one this time ...

I'd be remiss if I didn't "fall on my sword" in admission that I have thus far led a charmed life, for hundreds of reasons far too plentiful to list in this post, but that fall succinctly into a relatively small number of themes. If you know me at all, it will come as no surprise that one theme is Family, but others include Teaching, Coaching, and Athletics.

On the theme of family, my extended family is filled with people I view as a huge blessing, leaving me with a deep appreciation of my loved ones. Topping that lengthy list are my wife, kids, mom, and brothers, so spending time in the winter with 3 of the 4 in a personal version of Shangri La brings a huge sense of satisfaction. While both of our kids have discovered partners that are the Ying to their Yang, we haven't been able to spend as much time together as these parental units would prefer.

That changed when our son Keaton and his partner Jessica joined the festivities here in Naples for a week's vacation from their personal Rat Race, and we couldn't be more happy.

Keaton (aka KP) has proven to be the more independent of our two kids, and choosing to sink deep roots in Guelph, making get-togethers significantly more challenging. When he and Jess let us in on the surprise that they had booked flights to join us, we were obviously over the moon. Fulfilling our parental duties included providing taxi service from Southwest Regional Airport in Fort Myers, a 40 or so minute drive north.

Revisiting the idea of being blessed, my mom (and dad, RIP) purchased a three bedroom condo back in the early 90's that is perfectly suited to hosting the three branches of our clan in perfect comfort. Despite the deep level of connection KP has with Jess, we've only had a handful of opportunities to get to know her, so the week's immersion was absolutely delightful. She's a wonderful young lady, filled to the brim with positivism and confidence, and the sparkle in her eye reserved for KP is a huge "tell". 

The week flew by as we entertained ourselves with boatloads of Florida-style things like beach walks, kayaking the mangrove, flea markets, and (of course) lots and lots of treats. Thanks to Valentine's Day and KP's 27th Bday, we indulged early and often, and supplemented the "normal" days with restaurant fare from some of the area's trendy establishments. I'm sure it comes as no surprise, but things in FLA are a profoundly different than Wasaga, eyebrow lifting moments coming fast and furious. From the Mazeratti's/Bentley's/Ferarri's/Rolls Royce's, to the niche market stores (look up Seed to Table), to the ridiculous serving sizes of both sweets and drinks (note the slice of carrot cake in the photo), we explored to our heart's content.

Sadly, Saturday came quicker than anyone wished, we said our thank you's/goodbye's and shared a tight hug before they jetted their way back north. The intense feelings of gratitude for the blessings we've been gifted are humblingly cathartic. 

This morning's coffee on the lanai was filled with contemplations.

#lifeisgood

Ian's aftermath

Unless you were hiding out somewhere, devoid of all news and social media, or perhaps simply not at all interested, you may have missed that southwestern Florida was beset by the destructive power of Mother Nature in the form of Hurricane Ian. While it played out, my interest piqued since my mother owns a condo in Naples, a pretty amazing place to escape winter's frozen grip, and a place that Ian's full force pulled a Get Smart ... "Missed it by that much". When we arrived this winter, I was motivated to investigate the lingering effects from the aftermath. What I found was heart-breaking.

For those who were members of the aforementioned group, Hurricane Ian was a category 4 storm that slammed into the gulf shore of southwest Florida on September 28, 2022. The National Hurricane Center began tracking a tropical disturbance on September 19 located several hundred miles east of the Barbados, St Lucia, Martinque, and the other Windward Islands. Tropical Storm Ian formed late on September 23, but only slowly strengthened over the following few days as the storm turned northward toward Cuba. By September 26, the storm attained hurricane strength while located a little over 300 miles south of it. Ian strengthened rapidly prior to striking western Cuba early in the morning of September 27 as a category 3 hurricane with winds just over 200 kph (125 mph). Weakening only slightly as it crossed Cuba, it strengthened into a monstrous category 4 storm before making its second landfall just south of Punta Gorda, FL on September 28. (Source) A catastrophic storm surge struck the west coast of Florida south of Tampa, and coupled with over 51 cm (20 in) of rain, it caused major flooding across the peninsula all the way to the Atlantic coast. Ian spent many hours slowly crossing Florida and emerged off the east coast as a tropical storm with winds around 110 kph (65 mph) during the late morning hours of September 29. 

For the sake of those who need help, a storm surge is created by the circular, swirling winds of a hurricane that push the ocean's water inland, raising the water levels by metres, not cm's. In Ian's case, a forecasted storm surge of 1 m quickly demanded recalculation as the leading edge of the event hit the coast featuring sustained winds of 225 kph (140 mph), pushing a destructive 2.0–3.0 m (6–10 ft) storm surge inland, primarily south of where the eye of the hurricane made landfall. Damages in Naples alone were estimated at $989 million. Fort Myers in Lee County, just north of my mom's condo complex, experienced catastrophic impacts, particularly due to storm surge. (Source) Combined with high winds this resulted in damage to 52,514 buildings and homes, which included minor damage to 16,314 structures, major damage to 14,245 structures, and the destruction of 5,369 others. A preliminary estimate placed building damages at $6.8 billion. A large portion of the Sanibel Causeway (large bridge from Fort Myers to Sanibel Island) collapsed and washed away during the storm, cutting off all vehicle access to Sanibel. Vehicular access to the island was re-established on October 11 for emergency workers and public access was re-established October 21 for local residents.

I recently hopped on the two-wheeled stallion, pointed sort of north, and took a first hand look at the damage just south of Sanibel Island, first at Bonita Beach then at Estero Island. Listen folks, you can watch videos, you can scan photos, but until you have a real live look at something like this, you really don't grasp the full scope of the impact. I had ridden this same path a handful of times last winter, easily recognizing the portions of the sights that were severely damaged or completely wiped out. When you leave Bonita Beach on your way to Estero Island, you ride through Lover's Key State Park before crossing the Estero Blvd bridge onto the island. What was previously open state park land was now host to towering mounds of debris, obviously collected from the local area in a clean up effort.

To their credit, the folks in southwest Florida that rode out the storm are a tough lot! I've had the opportunity to talk to a few of them, some that rode  the hurricane out in my mother's complex, and they have colourful, anxiety-ridden memories of a fearful 7 or 8 hours as Ian passed overhead. One gentleman just down the way from mom dutifully attempted to paint a picture of the thousands of decisions that had to be made leading up to and surviving the storm. Looking at these two photos, you can see the extent of the surge, and if you consider that this complex is more than a mile from the beach, you can partially understand how far the water levels rose.

Since the initial estimates of storm surge were lower than they likely should have been, the decision to hunker down was logical, but as the water levels slowly climbed the side of familiar landmarks, the decision to leave was no longer possible, prayers and hopes the remaining thoughts in the deep darkness as Ian's ferocity cut all power for an extended stretch. Long time residents of the area feel strongly that Ian's anger was significantly more furious than many previous. 

We haven't made the trek up to Fort Myers yet. My intense curiousity is balanced by my profound empathy for loss and destruction. Like the rubberneckers on interstates and highways, the desire to see the carnage for myself is a powerful pull, but I find myself asking what I would feel if all that I held dear was wiped out by Nature's fury and the unaffected were busily capturing my pain with their smartphones. The restoration efforts are in full swing down in Naples, but the nightly news from Fort Myers revisits the carnage and the insurance frustrations in daily stories with a real life tilt. So many of the residents of the surrounding areas are of meagre means, all they owned in this world not built to endure hurricane force wind, rain, and surge, many readily confessing they could not afford insurance.

One of Life's most frustrating moments has to be paying ridiculous insurance premiums for years to the tune of tens of thousands of dollars, only to have that same company drag its heels and throw up every roadblock possible when you come with open palms following something like Ian. Here we are 4 full months later and story after story is about this heartbreak or that frustration thanks to insurance red tape. 

Obviously, Florida is no stranger to hurricanes, but the recovery efforts from major ones like Ian understandably take time, massive amounts of money, and incredible patience. You can already see what's been done since October, the smells and sounds of construction ever-present each day, but your heart goes out to those who for which ever reason cannot afford to deal with their issues. 

Sooner or later, it will all get fixed.

Sanctuary for the Senses

One of the most wondrous sights one is presented with in SW Florida are the Banyan Trees, IMHO. If you've never seen one in person, the photos do not really do them justice, their multiple trunks forming a lattice-work of complexity that is completely foreign to northern dwellers. Ever since I first encountered them, they have captivated my curiousity with their rainforest appearance standing proudly in a temperate setting, tying into my childhood fondness for the sights of Disney's Jungle Book, my favourite book/film so many years ago. That curiousity, plus their abundance in this area, spurred a little research that I found both surprising and illuminating, so I thought I would share. Chief among those tidbits of knowledge uncovered, I discovered these trees have their own tagline ... Sanctuary for the Senses! How cool is that?

A Banyan, also spelled "Banian", is a type of fig that develops accessory trunks from adventitious (happens by chance, not design) prop roots that allow the tree to spread outwards in order to create a more stable base, giving it that unique "jungle" look. These roots distinguish Banyans from other trees since they begin life as an epiphyte (a plant that grows on another plant) when its seed germinates in a crack or crevice of a host tree or edifice. When they germinate and grow roots down toward the ground, they consequently may envelop part of the host tree or edifice. This is colloquially known as a "strangler" habit, which Banyans share with a number of other tropical Ficus species. (Source)

The term Banyan often specifically denotes Ficus benghalensis, or "Indian Banyan", their national tree, but the name has also been used for all figs that share a common life cycle. One of the largest of all, the Great Banyan found in Kolkata, India, features a canopy that covers a mind-boggling 4.67 acres (1.89 ha) with the ability to shelter an estimated 20,000 people! To put it into perspective for us non-farmers, that's about the same as 4.5 football fields (the American size) or 68 tennis courts! Although it appears to be a series of trees thanks to the hundreds of prop roots, it is actually all connected and is considered a single entity. A 330-metre-long (1,080 ft) road was built around its circumference, but the tree has continued to spread beyond that boundary. In 1989, it was recognized as the largest tree specimen in the world, in terms of area covered, in the Guinness Book of World Records. (Source)

That's one seriously large tree!

The shortleaf fig (Ficus Citrifolia) is native to South Florida, the Caribbean islands, Central America, and South America south to Paraguay. The Florida strangler fig (Ficus Aurea) is also native to South Florida and the Caribbean islands, and distinguished from the above by its coarser leaf veins. Banyans are ecological MVP's since they produce vast crops of figs that sustain many species of birds, fruit bats, primates and other creatures, which in turn disperse the seeds of hundreds of other plant species. (Source) For thousands of years, people have used banyans as sources of medicines with its bark and leaves possessing analgesic and anti-inflammatory properties. The bark in particular is considered useful in burning sensations, ulcers, and painful skin diseases, but can even be used for toothaches! Today in Nepal, people use banyan leaves, bark and roots to treat more than twenty disorders. (Source)

One interesting factoid; The Portuguese name for Ficus Citrofolia, os barbados, gave Barbados its name.

The first Europeans to encounter banyan trees were Alexander the Great and his army, who after reaching India in 326 BCE, took notes back to Greece much to the delight of Theophrastus, the founder of modern botany. Banyans are reputed to have influenced 17th-century English poet John Milton who intonated in his novel Paradise Lost that Adam and Eve made the first clothes from banyan leaves. 

Regardless of the circumstances of their presence, I'm going to proclaim these curious giants my favourite things to witness in southwest Florida, other than the company of course.