Drowning, AIDS,
and Other Hurricanes That I Have Known


by Perry Gideon


My husband and I were vacationing on St. John (U.S. Virgin Islands) last year and we couldn't leave before Hurricane Irma hit on September 6, 2017. The island had been lush and green but after hours of winds reaching up to 185 mph, it looked downtrodden, grey and charred.

Buildings seemed to have imploded. You could not walk without hearing your steps crunch over broken glass. The many displaced iguanas would frequently jump out with a hiss and surprise you from their hiding places as they'd skitter their dog-sized bodies away into the drifts of debris. Wounds from being jabbed in the leg with spears of broken wood or cut by jagged lances of metal were common.

We were told that 85% of the islanders lost their homes. It was apparent that they were fearful about the future. The island's beauty had been blasted away. This was a hurricane that was surprisingly intense and damaging.

It would take a long time for the tourists to return. These were not wealthy people. It was difficult to see their lives in ruin. You could see the furrows of shock and worry in their faces.

We were stranded there for several days and while being immersed in this sense of bewildering upheaval, I began writing in a journal. The following pages are some of my own life experiences that I credit the hurricane with helping me to look back upon. I've presented these memories as journal entries.

I've included some of our hurricane video (before, during, and after):



In reality, you don't ever change the hurricane. You just learn how to stay out of its path. - Jodi Picoult