Blown Away!

by Joan Hiatt Harlow

  Sharkey set the puppy down, and we watched as it raced around the place, sniffing everything in sight.

  “What will you name her?” Mom asked.

  “I think Ruby would be a good name for a girl,” Sharkey said.

  “She’ll be another gem—like Jewel,” Mom agreed.

  Star seemed to be listening, her eyes on the dog.

  The puppy scurried around Sharkey’s washedout yard, chasing after butterflies and bumping into things. Jewel brayed loudly and trotted after the little dog.

  “Look at those two,” Sharkey said. “I’ve got my hands full again.”

  “And you’ll love every minute,” Dad said with a wink at me.

  “They’ll be nothing but trouble.” Sharkey’s old grumpy voice was back.

  “But Sharkey,” I said, adding my two cents’ worth, “good things come in pairs, you know!”

  We were all laughing when our attention was drawn to Star, who stood nearby, watching the two animals.

  The pup had discovered Jewels trough, and she nearly fell in as she lapped up the water. Star trotted over to the puppy, bent down, and patted her head. Little Ruby leaped up, knocked Star onto the ground, and then jumped on her. Star struggled to stand but was knocked over again by the playful, wiggling pup, who licked her face over and over.

  To our surprise and joy my little sister began to giggle.

  “Ruby!” she said in the sweetest, clearest, most beautiful voice. “Ruby!”

  EPILOGUE

  F or the next year I lived with my family in a small apartment in Miami and went to school there. But I missed my island home. And I missed Sharkey and Jewel, and Ruby, and my friend Billy, too.

  Then we heard the good news that the Red Cross and others were building houses for twenty-eight families who survived the storm—and we were one of those families! I could hardly wait to move back!

  When the big day came, Dad and I packed up our few belongings, while Mom gave directions. Star helped too, packing her own boxes, chattering all the time like her old self.

  Our new one-story house was built of white concrete and stood alongside a row of other houses on a newly constructed side street. “This house will never blow away,” Dad said as he looked everything over.

  We discovered the cisterns stored water under the house. “No more rain barrels to clean,” I said.

  “And there are no stairs for me to climb.” Mom was still in a brace and used a cane. She was overjoyed with her new kitchen with its shiny stove and refrigerator. “Think of all the family meals we’ll have here together. How blessed we are just to be alive—and now we’ve been given this lovely home!”

  “I suppose you’ll want a new genuine American Oriental rug,” Dad said.

  “No, I will not! There are more important things in life than a rug!”

  Star raced through the house, checking every room, and then she went outside. “Come with me, Jake,” she said. “Let’s go find Sharkey and Jewel. And Ruby.”

  I took her hand, and we walked by the spot where our house and store had been.

  “Our house is gone,” Star said. “Blown away.”

  “But Dad’s going to build a new store,” I told her.

  When we arrived where Sharkey’s place had been, we stopped dead in our tracks. The freight car was gone, and in its place was a smaller version of our new house. Sharkey was outside planting fruit trees, while Jewel and Ruby meandered around.

  Ruby, who had grown as big as Rudy, barked and ran to us, jumping and leaping around like crazy. Sharkey’s face lit up when he saw us. “Welcome back, Jake! Let’s go down to the water. I have something to show Star.” He took Star’s hand. Jewel and Ruby followed as the three of us walked to Sharkey’s beach.

  “It’s not the same Islamorada,” I said. “New houses, new bushes, new trees…”

  “The railroad’s gone forever,” Sharkey said. “But folks will drive their cars down here on the highway once it’s completed. The island will be part of the other world now.”

  As we stepped out onto the sandy beach, Sharkey pointed to a burrow of dirt and tiny scratch marks that led to the water. “The baby turtles have hatched, Star. See their little tracks heading right to the water?”

  Star bent over to examine the marks on the sand where the hatchlings had made their way to the sea.

  “So they’re safe now?” she asked. “They’re back in their own home?”

  “That’s right,” I told her. “They’re safe at home. And so are we.”

  That first night in our new house, Star called to me from her bedroom. “Jake! Look what Mommy bought for me.” She held up a new copy of Wind and Stars and Bright Blue Skies.

  I sat on her bed. “Would you like me to read it to you?” I asked.

  “I want Mara to read it to me.”

  “But we told you that Mara’s gone, Star,” I said.

  “I know. But where did she go?”

  “Far, far away.”

  She handed the book to me. “How far is far, far away, Jake?”

  “Beyond the wind and stars and bright blue skies,” I told her.

  —from Psalm 139

  If I take the wings of the morning, And dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy hand lead me, And thy right hand shall hold me.

  AFTERWORD

  M y story Blown Away! is a work of fiction. The characters—both human and animals— were born from my imagination. But the hurricane and other elements in the story are based upon actual events that took place in Islamorada on Matecumbe Key, Florida, in 1935.

  Islamorada, I’ve been told, means “purple isle.” However, I also understand from Spanish and Portuguese friends that it can mean “island home” or “island abode.” I’ve used the translation “island home” in my book.

  You may wonder why the great Labor Day Hurricane of 1935 is now considered to be the “Storm of the Century.” After all, throughout history Florida has been known for its powerful hurricanes. What made this one unique?

  According to most records, the Labor Day Hurricane of 1935 made landfall with the lowest barometric pressure that had ever been recorded. Officially the barometric pressure was 26.3 inches, but according to one survivor, his barometer dropped to 26.0 at the heft of the storm. At that point, in fear and surrender, he threw his barometer away. The sustained winds in this storm were recorded at 160 miles per hour, with gusts to more than 200 miles per hour. For fifty years it held the record as the strongest Atlantic hurricane. Readers who are interested in weather may enjoy using a simple barometer, and watching how barometric pressure changes from High (favorable weather) to Low (changeable) to Very Low (stormy).

  The storm surge was great. A wall of water eighteen to twenty feet high, with waves up to thirty feet high, completely flooded Matecumbe Key. Some survivors felt that the high mound of earth that had been built for the train tracks acted as a dam, causing the seawater to build up even higher before engulfing the town of Islamorada.

  The surge was so powerful that it overturned all the cars of the rescue train that was sent to save the veterans trapped on the island, except the locomotive itself. When the surge hit, one survivor was blown out of his cottage and into the flood. He awoke to find himself caught up in a tree twenty feet above the ground—like Jake in my story.

  According to records, 423 people were killed by the hurricane, but many people were never found, so the actual number may be higher. Of the 718 veterans employed by the government, 350 had gone to Miami for a Labor Day baseball game; that trip may have spared them their lives.

  In the 1930s meteorologists did not have the sophisticated scientific equipment available today to follow the courses of hurricanes. That may be the main reason the track of the hurricane was not properly forecast, which put many people in danger.

  During the era when my story takes place, there was an epidemic of the mosquito-borne disease encephalitis, which was also known as sleeping sickness. This is the illness that made Star so sic
k. Often victims never fully recovered. Today insecticide sprays are used in many communities to control mosquitoes and the diseases they carry.

  Were there panthers in the Florida Keys at the time of the 1935 Labor Day Hurricane? In my interviews with long-time residents of the Keys, I was told many stories about panthers that came to visit their islands in the past. In fact, a panther was recently sighted in the Keys.

  Why did I choose a mule for my story? Mules had a great impact on the history of our country, and they have touched our lives in more ways than many of us know. Pack mules carried heavy loads as pioneers made their way westward, and mules towed boats along the canals. Maybe you’ve heard the old folk song:

  I’ve got a mule and her name is Sal,

  Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal.

  She’s a good old worker and a grand old pal,

  Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal.

  Mules also helped build the highways and railroads, such as the Plagier railway in my story, long before automobiles and trucks took over. They also worked—and continue to work—in the coal mines.

  What makes mules different? They are hybrids—part horse, part donkey. Fortunately, they are made up of the best parts of both animals, which means they have extraordinary strength and patience. They are less excitable than horses, but they’re sure-footed and have a great talent for jumping. Like Jewel in my story, mules can jump a high fence from a standing position; a horse needs a running start.

  Mules are also extremely intelligent. You’ve probably heard the expression “stubborn as a mule.” Mules are not actually stubborn, but they are smart enough to know when a situation is dangerous— and that’s when they will refuse to budge.

  Because mules are hybrids, they cannot reproduce colts of their own. This is rather sad, but it’s part of the law of nature regarding hybrids. It’s true, however, that a mule usually has a pal—like a horse or dog—that it loves and follows. That’s how Rudy came to have a part in my plot.

  Today mules are still used as working animals, but they are also used in sports such as hunting, racing, jumping, and trail riding. I hope that after reading my book, readers will have a new respect for this hard-working and intelligent animal.

  The poems in this story were written by the author, including those in Star’s fictional book Wind and Stars and Bright Blue Skies, which you won’t find in a bookstore or a library—at least, not yet!

  WITH GRATITUDE …

  … to Kristina and Jules Olitski for the use of their Islamorada cottage, where I did most of my research while enjoying the beauty of that delightful island. Many thanks, Kris, my treasured friend, for your countless kindnesses, motivating support, and enthusiasm over the years.

  … to Historian Jim Clupper, from the Helen Wadley Branch of the Monroe County Public Library in Islamorada, for sharing his wide range of knowledge of the Labor Day Hurricane, for use of the historical archives, and for patiently answering my many questions about the history and the early inhabitants of the Keys.

  … for the pleasant and informative visit I had with Mrs. Alma Finder Dalton and her sister, Dolores “Dorrie” Finder Brothers, who as young children lived through the Labor Day Hurricane when many members of their friends and family perished or were seriously hurt. Sadly, Dorrie Pinder Brothers passed away just before this book was finished.

  … and a ton of thankfulness to the staff at Moultonborough, New Hampshire, Library, who once again helped me with research, and use of their computers and fax. My New Hampshire friends and neighbors will enjoy visits to the new library wing, lecture hall, and especially the children’s section with its beautiful murals of Lake Winnipesaukee.

  … for the friendly assistance I have received from the reference staff at Venice (Florida) Public Library.

  … to Mike and Deanna Sopko for graciously loaning me their prized collection of books on old Florida.

  … to Carol, Elizabeth, June, and Gail—my loyal, talented, and supportive writing group—for cheering me on over the years.

  … and many thanks to my understanding and gifted editor, Sarah Sevier, who edits my work with talent, care, and kindness.

  … to Larry and Claire Krane, who offered an abundance of information about the coal mines and culm banks in Pennsylvania, the mules in the mines, and Polish cooking—and who assure me that free food has no calories!