Hurricane Marilyn, Part 2 – Pecan-Crusted Chicken with Tropical Fruit
In September 1995 my wife Marci and I were starting our second year living on St. Thomas in the Caribbean. It was the heart of the Atlantic hurricane season and an extremely active year.
This is part two of the letter I wrote to friends and family in the days after Hurricane Marilyn struck the island. In my last post I explained our ordeal the night of the hurricane. I pick up here the next morning, when we first opened our door to see what damage the hurricane wrought.
If you did not read part one of this letter, I recommend you read that first. The letter is presented here as it was written, unedited, except for spelling corrections.
Saturday September 23, 1995
Our first view – out our back porch – was of the trees. Many had been knocked down or had branches broken off. However, the most dramatic thing was that there were no leaves. You could see straight past the neighbor’s roofless house, right to the airport. It looked as if there had been a forest fire. As we looked to the right, we saw our neighbor’s roof in our yard. Around the corner was the porch and roof from our house. It was laying in a huge pile of twisted metal, glass, and wood in our driveway. It was blocking our front door, which was why we couldn’t go out the front. I guess we were lucky since we had moved the car the afternoon before. We were going to leave it in its usual spot, but the landlord suggested we move it. I don’t know why he suggested it, but we were grateful.
We went upstairs to check on the family above. It was shocking and disturbing. Marci commented to Mike that she was not ready to find dead bodies in the rubble. Both the front and back porches were gone. The back bedroom had no door and a huge hole in the ceiling. The living room was just a pile of furniture, roof, walls, and glass. Most of it was still there, it was just in such a heap and so wet that it was virtually useless. There was only one room in the back of the house that fared relatively well. Mr. Harmer and the dog spent the worst part of Hurricane Marilyn in a closet in that room with a mattress over them. Mrs. Harmer, her daughter Susie, and her two grandchildren – Munerah and Jermay – spent the storm in the bathroom with their mattress. Luckily they were all okay – at least physically. However, their house was destroyed and they had almost no possessions. Their mental health is another issue entirely. No matter how terrified I was at the height of the hurricane, I did not have to deal with the roof blowing off in 200 mile per hour winds. For that I am thankful.
The wind speed is something that is debatable. The National Weather Service maintains that when it hit St. Thomas it was a category 2 storm and maximum sustainable winds were only 105-110 miles per hour with stronger gusts. I don’t think there is one person on this island that believes that. Those winds could not have caused this damage. I have heard wind speeds during the storm of 175 – 250 miles per hour. No one really knows, nor will they ever really know.
Although it has been over a week since the hurricane, it still seems like it was only two days ago. Everything is a blur.
We have spent some time helping Mr. Harmer. Clearing a path, removing some debris – things like that. It has been incredibly frustrating. Even though virtually everything is destroyed, he can’t throw it away. He pulled out a broken fan and told me how he was going to fix it. He just cannot face the fact that his house and possessions are gone. After a week he still hasn’t put a tarp up, even after he got them. He’s just not dealing. It’s very sad. He has also had people, including Marci and I, offer help. But he won’t let them help. He just sits down and talks to them. He wants to do it all himself, but just can’t.
Marci and I feel especially sorry for their daughter Susie. She returned from Israel a few months ago to help out with her mother (blind), father (deaf and heart trouble), and her sister’s two kids. Now she’s in the middle of this and she just can’t deal with her father. I don’t know what they’re going to do.
Other people are dealing in different ways. Our friend John (Mike’s roommate) lost his apartment and all his stuff. He’s happy to help other people clean up, but just won’t go to the apartment to take care of his own stuff. Meanwhile, Mike is sleeping there spending every waking moment cleaning as much as he can.
Marci and I have been doing okay on and off. We’ve been fighting some, but we recognize that it’s because our stress level is just so high. Around the island, you can just feel the stress. Lines are long everywhere and people are trying to be patient. It doesn’t always work. Roads have been blocked and it takes forever to get anywhere. Everyone is hot and sticky. It’s sort of like a very extended (Philadelphia) Folk Fest, without the fun or music.
Anyway, a couple of days after the hurricane, we were able to drive around the island some. The devastation is incredible. They estimate that like 90% of houses have some damage. Probably 50% lost all or part of their roofs and a good number are just plain destroyed. The roads are a mess. Telephone poles snapped like matchsticks, there are trees and roofs in the roads, cars are crushed, and there is debris everywhere. The roads are slowly getting back in order. Many people are driving around in cars with smashed windows and no hoods. Sometimes it’s even comical. There are boats everywhere – especially on the road on the waterfront, which is the main part of town. It’s crazy. Some houses just are no longer there.
About three days after the hurricane Marci and I were driving along and we saw some kids with bags of ice. We rushed to the back of some boat that was handing out free bags of ice. Since there’s no power – and many guess there won’t be until Christmas – ice is a hot commodity. There was a huge angry mob at the boat, and somehow we managed to get four bags of ice without getting killed. It was quite an accomplishment.
Help has been coming in slowly but steadily. There have been major airlifts of supplies – food, water, medical, tarps, etc., but people have had a very hard time getting it. There are only a few distribution centers and since there are so few big trucks, they haven’t been able to get stuff to the distribution centers. In addition, the traffic has been so bad that the few trucks have been blocked.
We managed to get water, and MREs (meals ready to eat – army food), which are pretty humorous. We also got an emergency kit with a flashlight, radio, batteries, and a ten-minute phone card. Unfortunately, phone aren’t working too well these days. Overall, when it comes to supplies, Marci and I are doing pretty good.
Phone access is a major problem. We wanted to get in touch with our parents as soon as possible, just to let them know we’re okay. One of the cellular companies has been letting people have free calls, but the lines are about two hours long. Marci got through once, and all I got was my parents’ answering machine (which I guess is better than nothing.) Another time I got their answering machine when using a fellow teacher’s cellular phone. I’m beginning to worry if they’re okay.
Probably the hardest thing Marci and I have had to deal with is our living situation. Since the Harmer’s house was destroyed, they moved in with us. Seven people in our little apartment wasn’t pleasant. Luckily, they have a generator and so we could turn on the pump for water (= showers – very important), turn on the fridge, and even have a bit of light in the evening. Unfortunately, with so many people in one space it was stressful, and Marci and I knew it wouldn’t last. On Thursday afternoon they asked us to leave. They weren’t throwing us out on the street by asking us to leave immediately, but they wanted us out as soon as we could find another place.
We found a place on Friday and spent last night here. It’s a cute little condo that would be great under most conditions. However, there is only a screen door on the front, and no window in the back. Since we can’t use electricity for A.C. and since there’s no breeze, it’s stifling. We’re getting out of here as soon as we can. As a matter of fact, while I write this, Marci’s out looking at other places. I need to stay in for a while and relax. It’s just been too much. I’ll let her take care of this one. (Present day note: I was having a meltdown. I wouldn’t have made it without Marci.)
As far as school goes for me….the church, which was stone and built in like 1844, basically imploded. The roof and some walls caved in and it’s just a serious mess. The classroom buildings seem to have done fairly well. One lost part of the roof, and we were trying to clear that from the parking lot the other day. It seems like a temporary roof is going up this weekend and I’ve heard classes will be starting in the middle of next week. That’s pretty quick.
Marci’s work is in okay shape. They lost part of the roof and her office has about five inches of water in it. Luckily it seems that none of her files, etc. got wet. We’re still talking about it, but she may be leaving for a month or two so she can get some work done. Since almost everything she does is on the computer, she can’t get much done here. We’ll see.
Those of you who were planning to visit, well, I wouldn’t make any plans just yet, as least until we see what happens in a few months.
Things started to open up a bit more. Most of the restaurants have generators so they can operate even if they don’t have a roof. Tuesday or so we went and had pizza and a few ice-cold beers. It was a major luxury. Some places even have their air conditioning up and running. Some things are slowly coming back to normal. Other things won’t be back to normal for many, many months.
Lots of people have left the island and are not turning back. I’m guessing many more will be leaving in the next few weeks. We’ve given it serious consideration but will probably stay – more out of a sense of obligation than anything else.
I’m sure you’ve heard horrible reports about the damage and looting. As far as the damage goes, they’re probably true. As for the looting, it’s hard to say. I’m sure it’s going on and I’ve heard some horrible stories. But I haven’t seen any myself. I’m guessing that national news has blown it way out of proportion. So don’t believe everything you hear or read.
Well folks, that’s about all for now. We very much miss and look forward to seeing everyone. We’re going to try to come home Thanksgiving weekend if we can – just to get out of here for a little bit. Some friends (Anne and Arnoldo) were supposed to visit that week, but I’m not sure it’s going to happen.
I hope all is going well with everyone there. Probably the best way to get in touch with us right now is to write. Anything other than letters should be sent Express or possibly Priority mail for now – according to the post office. We look forward to hearing from people. Talk to you soon.
Love,
Max and Marci
p.s. Marci found us a great new place for about two months – small, but a generator that runs 24 hours a day. That means lights, fridge, fans, water, and showers. There’s even a few washers and dryers. Sort of back to normal!
Pecan-Crusted Chicken with Tropical Fruit
When we lived in St. Thomas, we were dirt poor. Marci’s graduate student stipend plus my beginning-of-career teacher salary amounted to very little. As a result, we could not afford to dine out very often, and when we did, it was certainly not a fancy meal. On the few occasions we splurged, one of our favorite restaurants was Craig and Sally’s, a small, fancy but casual restaurant with Caribbean-themed fare. My favorite dish was nut-crusted chicken breast with topical fruit. I don’t remember it exactly, but I recently recreated a reasonable facsimile, which is quite tasty and brings back fond memories of our non-hurricane time in the islands.
45 minutes, serves 2
cooking oil spray
2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
½ plus ⅛ tsp. kosher salt, divided
½ cup mayonnaise
¾ cup pecans, chopped
2 Tbsp. butter
2 Tbsp. brown sugar
⅛ tsp. ground cinnamon
⅛ tsp. ground ginger
1 ripe Ataulfo (champagne) mango, sliced into bite-size pieces
1 ripe but firm banana, sliced into bite-size pieces
½ cup ripe papaya, sliced into bite-size pieces
- Line a sheet pan with aluminum foil. Place a cooling rack in the sheet pan and spray the cooling rack with cooking oil spray. Set aside.
- Preheat oven to 350 oF.
- Pound each chicken breast between two sheets of parchment paper or plastic wrap to a thickness of about a half inch using a meat pounder or back of a skillet. Sprinkle about a half teaspoon of salt total on the chicken breasts. Using your hands, coat chicken breasts in mayonnaise and dredge in chopped pecans so they are coated all over. Place pecan-crusted chicken breasts on cooling rack in sheet pan and place in pre-heated oven. Bake for about 10 minutes, then carefully flip chicken breasts. Bake for an additional 10 minutes until internal temperature reaches about 160 oF when taken out of the oven and rises to about 165 oF while resting.
- While chicken breast is cooking, slice tropical fruit, then finish preparing it, along with sauce, while chicken is resting. Heat butter and brown sugar in a non-stick skillet over medium heat until sugar melts. Be careful, as it will be very hot. Add cinnamon, ground ginger, and remaining kosher salt and stir to combine using a silicone spatula. (The sugar will stick to any other spoon.) Add fruit and stir to coat until just warmed through, about three or four minutes.
- Place pecan-crusted chicken breasts on a plate and top with tropical fruit and sauce and serve warm.
What an adventure living on St Thomas.
Hello Max,
I don’t know how I missed part 1, but I did go back and read it. Quite the unpleasant, scary experience. Even tho you have talked about this hurricane before, your writing does it more justice. Very descriptive and interesting. So when you wrote these letters, you sent them by mail? Was Marci allergic to shrimp back then?
Thank you for putting in the plus 200 mph windspeeds. We were gaslit on that before the phrase gaslit was ever in play. We were out in Sapphire Village, NE end, and listening to the radio and callers as well. I remember the call from the lady with the roof blowing off, it was from a shelter at a school and the radio man said, “Hunker down, no one can save you now”. That is probably what caused your panic, realizing the shelters were not even safe places and that we were all on our own at that point. We never slept. They said the storm was supposed to pass us by 8:00. No, it stopped between St. Croix and St. Thomas, and built strength for a few hours, and then slowly began to mow us down. The eye was small and tight, like a tornado. We didn’t experience any calm eye. The weather raged hard the whole time as we were raked by the NE side of the eyewall. Between 11:00- 12:00, the radio station left broadcasting reported that their wind meters were measuring sustained 221mph and then, the last radio station went off the air and AFTER that is when all hell broke loose. It became so much worse. 250mph is very believable. I was reflecting on this event, being 29 years ago at this time, how drastically my happy life was shattered overnight, how I still have PTSD from it. This morning, before I decided to look it up to reflect, I was thinking to myself, that I wasn’t ready to face that level of destruction to both the island, and my happy life as I knew it. To read your words, ” I was not prepared” for what you saw the next day really resonated. They said it was going to be a quick, small cat 1. I thought we would see some palm fronds blown off the next day as we closed ourselves in for the night. There were clearly waterspout/tornado paths of destruction. The Weather Channel out of Miami said, ” Tornados are impossible at that latitude.” Gaslit. We took an Army plane out and so watching the news from Chicago was surreal. They lied about the severity. I was infuriated realizing, no help would come as a result. Getting off the plane at O’Hare was surreal, lights, power, people laughing. I left a different scene, pitch black at night, dead silence and people walking around like zombies in shock or breaking down crying. They lied about windspeeds, they lied about tornados/waterspouts and they lied about the death toll. They were pulling bodies from the water beyond imagination. A friend at the hospital said bodies were stacked in hallways because the morgues were full. The real death toll was over 100. People decided to ride it out on their boats because the News Media minimized it. Few boats made it back. A Fisherman friend had anchored in mandahl hole, with 40 other boats. We saw him motor into the severely damaged marina the next afternoon, white as a ghost. They pulled in to collect themselves and were going to head straight to PR, there was nothing to stay for. He said, all through the night, he watched Large Catamarans pitch pole off into the darkness never to be seen again. Of the 40 boats, they were the only ones left floating when daylight broke. I wouldn’t wish a hurricane on a worst enemy. During the worst of it in the interior bathroom we were huddled in, wondering which breath would be out last was too much. The sound, the windows, doors everything loose rattling, the thunderous roar of what sounded like a hundred trains running under the building, shaking it to its limits, felt like a thousand demons were trying to break in and devour us. I always tell people now to prepare their property, take their valuables and LEAVE the path. No one needs that experience in their memory bank let alone has anything worth risking losing their life over, like a boat. Thank you for listening and sharing your story.