WEST MELBOURNE, Fla., Sept. 5 -- Living in the tight, tense atmosphere of a hurricane shelter, says Kerri Nash, "brings out the best and worst in people."
As principal of Meadowlane Elementary School here, Nash, 44, is also a designated storm shelter manager. She -- along with a cadre of volunteers -- has retooled her school into a full-service harbor for the duration of the large and long-lasting Hurricane Frances.
Shelters across Florida are overflowing with people seeking refuge from Frances. Above, refugees wait in line for food at the Pinewood Elementary School in Stuart. Right, at a shelter in Orlando, volunteer Zaida Teissonnier, left, dishes up a meal to Giselle McCalla, a student at the University of Central Florida. Left, Jose DeLaPena of Greenacres, Fla., and daughter Nazareth, 5, relocated to Palm Beach Central High School to ride out the storm.
(Mark Randall -- Sun-sentinel Via AP)
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_____Photo Gallery_____
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Frances Pounds Florida: Reduced for the moment from a hurricane to a tropical storm, Frances headed for the Gulf of Mexico and the Florida panhandle late Sunday afternoon.
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_____A Stormy Season_____
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Frances Weakens, but Drenches Fla. (The Washington Post, Sep 6, 2004)
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Slow-Moving Frances Keeping Relief at Bay (The Washington Post, Sep 6, 2004)
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Region's Workers Bound for Florida To Aid in Recovery (The Washington Post, Sep 6, 2004)
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A Driving Desire To Be in Cars Despite Curfews (The Washington Post, Sep 6, 2004)
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Frances Pummels Florida (The Washington Post, Sep 5, 2004)
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After Facing Charley, Floridians Gird for Round 2 (The Washington Post, Sep 5, 2004)
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Waiting For the Eye, And Ready To Blink (The Washington Post, Sep 5, 2004)
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2 Storms In Florida Not Seen As Trend (The Washington Post, Sep 3, 2004)
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Hurricane Paths of 2004 Season
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The shelter opened Friday morning and filled up in just a few hours. By Sunday the nearly 700 people who have taken refuge here have come to know each other rather well, Nash says. The cafeteria is full; so are most of the classrooms. Folks of all ages and colors coexist behind drawn hurricane shutters and doors locked against the wind.
"When some of my loved ones ask me why I do this," says Nash, who has overseen three previous hurricane shelters, "I say, 'Who's going to do it if I don't?' It's very fulfilling."
Most of the people who've sought sanctuary at the school are from the Brevard County area, Nash says. Or maybe they are motorists who were stranded on Interstate 95 without gasoline or were evicted from unsafe motels. Or they just had no place else to go.
"Some people came here with nothing. No food, no blankets, nothing," Nash says. Good Samaritans have chipped in to help -- offering to share life's necessities.
As head of the shelter, she works with a Red Cross representative, two West Melbourne police officers and more than a dozen volunteers. She makes announcements -- about the weather, a county order to boil all water, and periodic -- and separate -- fresh-air breaks for smokers and non-smokers. She makes decisions -- such as when to let a mother take her crying child into a private room and where to show a video, "Malibu's Most Wanted," to adults. And she makes the occasional peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
When the electricity went out in the wee hours of Sunday morning, Nash made sure that Ron Murphy, 47, the Red Cross volunteer, was able to get the school's backup generator started. The automatic switch didn't work, so Murphy, a burly, mustachioed guy, fought the fierce night winds to fire it up manually.
"I've been doing this for 25 years," he says at one point. "Why quit now?" The Red Cross has opened at least 15 similar shelters in Brevard County for Frances, he says.
Nash, dressed comfortably in a dark-blue short-sleeved Florida Gators shirt, blue jeans and Nike running shoes, carries a walkie-talkie as she dashes through gusting winds and rain from her office to the cafeteria to check on everyone.
The cafeteria -- accommodating 180 people -- looks like a scene from a Charles Dickens novel. Air mattresses and sleeping bags are strewn everywhere. Lots of people sit at the cafeteria tables -- some reading, others talking, still others just staring at the walls.
Three people play rummy atop a cardboard box. A man naps on a cot. Another reads "What Little Girls Are Made Of." One woman is in a wheelchair, another walks with a cane.
Contrary to the outside where wicked winds batter the trees, inside the air is stuffy and still. Four ceiling fans whir pitifully overhead.
Children dance about the room. Some watch a cartoon movie on video. A couple of kids are playing with balloons. One girl works vigorously with crayons and paper to bring color to a drab situation. One towheaded boy has shoes that convert to skates with a flip of the wheels. He glides among the tables.
