In the Aftermath of Ian, Floridians Share their Stories of Fear and Survival

'It sounded like the roof was falling apart and would fly off at any moment. We could hear things breaking all around the house.'

Photo of what remains of Hope Lutheran Church on the flooded street in the community of Gulf Cove in Port Charlotte, Florida in the aftermath of hurricane Ian on Sept. 29, 2022. (Courtesy of Michelle Chacon)

On Wednesday, Sept. 28, hurricane Ian made landfall in Florida as a powerful Category 4 storm. With maximum sustained winds of 150 mph, much was destroyed and many lives were lost. In the aftermath, Floridians share their stories of fear and survival.

Monday, Sept. 26

Family and friends used to laugh at Monica Cody. They called her a “prepper.” But as hurricane Ian barreled toward Florida’s Port Charlotte Peninsula her critics quickly came to realize that in her determination to be ready for anything “this definitely was a time that it paid off.”

“The day before the storm we made sure we had everything accessible,” Cody told The Epoch Times.

The hurricane shutters were up. She had a battery-operated radio, flashlights, and candles. She prepared a big pot of chicken noodle soup and a big pot of pasta and meatballs and hunkered down with her 11-year-old son Ayden “because power going out was guaranteed.” Her boyfriend stayed with them “just in case something horrific happened.”

As Ian made its approach toward southwest Florida, Michelle Chacon began to worry. The home she and her husband purchased a little over a year ago did not come with hurricane shutters. So, while her husband Camron searched for shutters, Michelle spent a few days rushing around collecting cases of water, food, and other supplies she saw recommended on a community hurricane prep webpage.

“My husband didn’t think the shutters would be needed because our house had been standing for 20 years without any hurricane damage,” Michelle told The Epoch Times, explaining how he instead decided that fixing the carburetor on their generator was a higher priority. But as the forecast became grimmer and grimmer, her husband decided that it may be a good idea to get shutters after all.

“Luckily,” through a neighbor who had a friend who happened to sell metal hurricane shutters and a trip to Home Depot where they acquired one of the last sets of the hardware to hang them, another neighbor helped hang the shutters just as it began to get dark. 

Rocky and Annette Cantalupo of Sanibel Island, Fla. (Courtesy of Annette Cantalupo)

Rocky and Annette Cantalupo live on Sanibel Island, which was placed under emergency evacuation. While residents were not forced to flee their homes, they were warned that emergency responders would not be able to help them if they got into trouble. The Sanibel Causeway would be too dangerous to cross so EMS and firefighters would be leaving the island by 10 pm.

Tuesday, Sept. 27

By now, Monica’s family—who all lived within 15 minutes of each other—started a group text. “We were all starting to get a little worried,” she confessed. But they tried to make each other laugh by sending funny GIFs.

For Michell, culverts in her area were starting to fill with water. “That was their job.” Then the grass in the lowest parts of the yard and the street began to flood. The wind, which had been pretty mellow up to this point, was starting to kick up. Emergency alerts warned it was time to close the garage and hunker down. 

On Sanibel Island, a curfew was issued from 9 p.m. to 6 a.m. The Cantalupos decided it was time to leave.

“We went off the island in a hurry with very little clothing and wound up in a Fairfield Inn on 41 in Fort Myers,” Rocky told The Epoch Times.

Wednesday, Sept. 28

Around 10 a.m. on Wednesday, Sept. 28, packing winds of 150 mph, Ian struck Florida’s Gulf Coast.

At 11:45, Monica Cody lost power. The voices on the battery-operated radio advised finding a safe place in the house and staying there.

“I set up a chair a bean bag and a bunch of pillows in my hallway and told my son, if I tell you to get in the hallway you do it immediately,” Monica said. “He understood.”

One of the sliding glass doors had been left without shutters in case they needed to flee. As she stood at the glass doors, looking outside, she heard what sounded like a freight train. Ian had arrived.

“I screamed for Ayden to get into the hallway,” Monica recalled. Her son Ayden, was startled out of his sleep. He ran, He was so scared he vomited. “It was terrifying, the radio told us the eye would be coming over us at 2:30. So we waited and prayed for a break from the sounds of destruction.”

Photo of the aftermath of a roof collapse at the home of Alan and Jonathan Edson on Pendleton Road in Port Charlotte, Fla., in the aftermath of hurricane Ian on Sept. 30, 2022. (Courtesy of Monica Cody)

At 2:30 p.m., Monica’s adult sons—Alan and Jonathan Edson—called. They were crying, terrified. The roof of their house had just collapsed in on them. Monica felt helpless. She could not help them. Ian was raging outside.

Then cell service went down.

For Michelle and Cameron, Ian’s winds started around 12:00 p.m. and grew in intensity very quickly.

“We could hear the sound of metal clanking against our metal shutters, and we were thanking God we had them,” Monica recalled. “It sounded like the roof was falling apart and would fly off at any moment. We could hear things breaking all around the house. Our two kids and two dogs were huddled with us in the center of the home. I was crying for them to get their helmets and life jackets on.”

Photo of the destruction in the community of Gulf Cove in Port Charlotte, Fla., in the aftermath of hurricane Ian on Sept. 30, 2022. (Courtesy of Michelle Chacon)

Then everything went dead. Electricity, water, cell phones, internet service. It was all gone.

“We were trapped in our home surrounded by water,” she said. “We had only ourselves to rely on for survival.”

As the wind continued to pound the house, they prayed.

“All we could do was hold each other and hope that it was in God’s plan to keep us safe,” Monica said.

Over at the Fairfield Inn on 41 in Fort Myers, power and water went out, plunging the Cantalupos into darkness.

The Aftermath

As the sun began to rise on Sept. 29, Monica saw that the water had receded enough to see a bit of the road. The screened pool cage was destroyed as were her shed and fence. Trees came down. But she still had a roof under which people can stay. Alan and Jonathan had come home and were safe with her. Then reports came in from other family members.

A photo of what remains of the home of Monica Cody's uncle, Patrick Skrip, in Holiday Lakes, Port Charlotte, Fla., in the aftermath of hurricane Ian on Sept. 30, 2022. (Courtesy of Monica Cody)

Her mother, Collen Cody, had major damage to her home in South Gulf Cove, as did the home of her sister Melissa Zebley in Englewood. But thankfully, both are still standing. Her uncle—Patrick Skrip—was not so lucky. He lost his house completely. Monica’s five-month pregnant niece and husband—Arielle and Michael Newman—had flood waters up to their waists in their home. All of their home furnishings, including all of their new baby furniture, is in ruins. Her adult boys—Alan and Jonathan—are now living in her little house, as is Levi, their dog.

Levi, the 16-year-old pup belonging to Alan and Jonathan, all now living with Monica Cody in the aftermath of hurricane Ian. (Courtesy of Monica Cody)

Her uncle and nephew Austin Richard are living with her mom. Arielle and Michael are living with her sister. Being the “prepper,” Monica is the only person in her family with a generator and food. Two days after the storm she cooked the first hot meal her family had eaten in days off her grill: four pork loins, rice and green beans—and coffee.

In the days that passed, the National Guard swarmed every intersection and were posted at the one gas station that opened with hours-long lines. Blackhawk, Chinook, and Coast Guard helicopters patrolled the skies. Rays Stadium was opened to provide water, ice, MREs, and tarps. With the hotels and rentals bought out by FEMA, locals who lost their homes had nowhere to go. Power and cell service weren’t restored until Sunday, Oct. 9.

Photo at sunrise in the aftermath of Hurricane Ian, as seen from the home of Monica Cody on Drysdale Avenue in Port Charlotte, Fla., on Sept. 30, 2022. (Courtesy of Monica Cody)

“It’s been rough, we are all exhausted,” Monica said, adding that she actually got to speak to her insurance company yesterday.

“I am one of the lucky ones,” she said, explaining how her sons had to salvage through the wreckage of what little was left of their belongings. For now, there are five people, a dog, and a cat living under her roof. They are hoping to find a place to rent for them for under $2,000 per month. In the meantime, she has a gofundme account to help cover the cost of supporting her family.

Photo of devastation wrought by hurricane Ian on the senior living community of Gasparilla Mobile Estates in Placida, Fla., on Sept. 29, 2022. (Courtesy of Bobby Beaumont)

For Michelle Chacon, what trees Ian left standing in her neighborhood were stripped of their leaves. Mangled metal was wrapped around structures or laying in piles on the ground. Roofs were ripped apart leaving homes vulnerable to the elements, and piles of insulation, mushy sheetrock, and home goods sat by the road awaiting trash pickup with no known collection date.

“A community that took years to build was broken and crumbled in just a day,” she lamented, saying there were more trees down on the ground than remained standing.

A flooded road in the aftermath of Hurricane Ian in the Gulf Cove community of Port Charlotte, Fla. (Courtesy of Michelle Chacon)

“We saw roof after roof with significant damage,” she recalled further. “Sheds, garages, fences, and lanais were completely mangled. The roads were still flooded. Entire cars were submerged. Power lines were down and almost every street sign and stop sign were down. We all just stood there for a time simply saying, ‘What a mess.’ Had we known just how bad this would be even days or weeks later,“ she said, ”we would have done some things differently and prayed a little harder.”

Over at the Fairfield Inn, Rocky said the power and water had gone out, leaving the Cantalupos in the hotel “without water, electricity, or food” for the next four days.

From there, they fled to Tampa, where they managed to find another hotel. Once there, they called their daughter in North Carolina.

“We’re up here in North Carolina now, outside of Raleigh,” Rocky said.

Asked about the condition of his property back on Sanibel Island, Rocky said he hadn’t been back there yet.

A neighbor who lives across from them on the island had stayed. His daughter had actually gotten a boat and went to go look at the house.

“It seems the inside is fine,” Rocky said, adding that they didn’t get water in the house or garage but some roof tiles are missing and the pool cage was destroyed. “But as far as I know, we did pretty good inside. When they open the bridge we‘ll get down there. They’ll be opening it up on the 21st. We'll probably go back on the 23rd and talk to the insurance company then. That’s when it gets scary.”

‘He Is With Us’

In the days since Ian, neighbors came together to help each other start the arduous process of cleaning up. They share supplies and offer each other moral support. They show up at each other’s houses unannounced to see how folks are doing. They listened to each other, finding out who needed help. They rely on each other for tips on where to get gas, where to get a cell signal, where to get more water, or where to find a free hot meal,  and they celebrated the moment they finally got a signal from a local radio station which became their only lifeline to the outside world.

Photo of what remains of Hope Lutheran Church in the community of Gulf Cove in Port Charlotte, Fla., in the aftermath of hurricane Ian on Sept. 29, 2022. (Courtesy of Michelle Chacon)

“Every church in the area sustained significant damage,” Michelle Chacon said. “The one closest to us had the entire chapel wall ripped out and the Jesus on the cross statue lay atop the pile of rubble. It was a sign telling people that He is with us even in the chaos and destruction. Seeing this left me with the feeling that we will overcome this even though it is hard right now.”

She said the aftereffects of this storm are far-reaching. Looters have been sneaking through neighborhoods taking what little is left from people who have already lost too much. But there is still so much hope.

“Southwest Florida has already begun to rebuild and repair,” Michelle said. “I hope people will still come as things open back up. Tourism is an important facet of our economy. I also hope that the children will continue to play and explore the outside world and that neighbors will still check on each other and sit and chat in the driveway for an hour or two.”