Publisher's notebook
Thoughts on Hurricane 'Michelle'
To the rest of the world, last week's devastating hurricane was called Michael. For me and the staff at The Post, it will be remembered as Hurricane "Michelle."
Our regular readers might remember the name Michelle Maloney. A great employee we added 14 years ago into our once fledgling news department right after she graduated college from Miami of Ohio. Back then, we often hired young kids getting their feet wet out of journalism school.
Michelle Maloney did more than get her feet wet 14 years ago. She was an extraordinarily detailed, dedicated worker. So much so that she quickly was promoted to Editor at a very young age. As our news operation grew, we started adding multiple local editors and Michelle was promoted to Managing Editor. As such, she was instrumental in our growth and helped us win many national awards.
Then, Michelle Maloney became Michelle Farnham when she married an impressive young man named Will. He used to help us doing odd jobs while he was earning an advanced degree. Unfortunately for us, upon graduation, Will got offered a great job in the Florida panhandle and took Michelle with him. The native Buckeyes started their own new family and a new life but will always remain part of ours.
Thanks to the wonders of the Internet, Michelle is no longer our Managing Editor but still works for us from home, even if home is in Florida. Sometimes, she makes it back for our company Christmas party, and when she shows up on our large screen via "GoToMeeting" we jokingly call her "Virtual Michelle."
So, this week when the news started showing Hurricane Michael tracking directly to Michelle's area of Florida, we were all a little more concerned than us Ohioans usually are about hurricanes, until one of your own family is involved.
She provided us with email updates of her situation because she knew her many friends at The Post were concerned. A small sampling of her updates provide a window to what it was like:
"Last week, I sat in a children’s museum in Baton Rouge, watching the clock, wondering if my entire world was being blown away. ... Thankfully we were spared from the devastating destruction by mere miles, but this week I’ve had a front row seat to a horror show I never wanted to see ...
Tuesday I evacuated west with my 3-year-old in the middle of the night, but not before saying goodbye to my husband, whose health care work obligations required him to stay ... Will spent two days and nights sleeping on a high school gymnasium floor, helping to care for residents, unsure if he’d have a home or a job to return to ...
Our home is now filled with family and friends who did not fare so well. I wash their clothes and make their beds and cook their food, all while choking back the guilt that we escaped this hell ...
My teenage cousins have come to stay with us indefinitely while awaiting electricity, water and a solution to the two trees currently resting in their brand new home. The eldest is uncertain how she will finish out her senior year of high school ...
The girls’ parents’ place of employment was destroyed. Some of their coworkers have already been cut. Houses don’t react as you might expect in 155 mph winds. Formerly wooded lots now look like a prairie ...
We have longtime friends who lost the roof of their house with no help available to protect their home’s contents. I’ll spare you the description of what he said it smells like in there. And to think, they’re among the “lucky” ones ...
So now, we wait – for the roads to re-open, for power to be restored, cell service to return. Refugees are traveling two hours in search of food, gas to fill their generators. For so many, 'everything' is gone ..."
Michelle, as long as the people survived, "everything else" seems less significant to us. I am sure it doesn't to you. Trust me, it will pass. I have some personal experience because my dad's grocery store was literally washed away in the Rittman flood of 1969. I remember the smells cleaning that mess up, too.
Our online poll question of the week is "Do you think humans have anything to do with weather events like Hurricane Michael?"
Our regular readers might remember the name Michelle Maloney. A great employee we added 14 years ago into our once fledgling news department right after she graduated college from Miami of Ohio. Back then, we often hired young kids getting their feet wet out of journalism school.
Michelle Maloney did more than get her feet wet 14 years ago. She was an extraordinarily detailed, dedicated worker. So much so that she quickly was promoted to Editor at a very young age. As our news operation grew, we started adding multiple local editors and Michelle was promoted to Managing Editor. As such, she was instrumental in our growth and helped us win many national awards.
Then, Michelle Maloney became Michelle Farnham when she married an impressive young man named Will. He used to help us doing odd jobs while he was earning an advanced degree. Unfortunately for us, upon graduation, Will got offered a great job in the Florida panhandle and took Michelle with him. The native Buckeyes started their own new family and a new life but will always remain part of ours.
Thanks to the wonders of the Internet, Michelle is no longer our Managing Editor but still works for us from home, even if home is in Florida. Sometimes, she makes it back for our company Christmas party, and when she shows up on our large screen via "GoToMeeting" we jokingly call her "Virtual Michelle."
So, this week when the news started showing Hurricane Michael tracking directly to Michelle's area of Florida, we were all a little more concerned than us Ohioans usually are about hurricanes, until one of your own family is involved.
She provided us with email updates of her situation because she knew her many friends at The Post were concerned. A small sampling of her updates provide a window to what it was like:
"Last week, I sat in a children’s museum in Baton Rouge, watching the clock, wondering if my entire world was being blown away. ... Thankfully we were spared from the devastating destruction by mere miles, but this week I’ve had a front row seat to a horror show I never wanted to see ...
Tuesday I evacuated west with my 3-year-old in the middle of the night, but not before saying goodbye to my husband, whose health care work obligations required him to stay ... Will spent two days and nights sleeping on a high school gymnasium floor, helping to care for residents, unsure if he’d have a home or a job to return to ...
Our home is now filled with family and friends who did not fare so well. I wash their clothes and make their beds and cook their food, all while choking back the guilt that we escaped this hell ...
My teenage cousins have come to stay with us indefinitely while awaiting electricity, water and a solution to the two trees currently resting in their brand new home. The eldest is uncertain how she will finish out her senior year of high school ...
The girls’ parents’ place of employment was destroyed. Some of their coworkers have already been cut. Houses don’t react as you might expect in 155 mph winds. Formerly wooded lots now look like a prairie ...
We have longtime friends who lost the roof of their house with no help available to protect their home’s contents. I’ll spare you the description of what he said it smells like in there. And to think, they’re among the “lucky” ones ...
So now, we wait – for the roads to re-open, for power to be restored, cell service to return. Refugees are traveling two hours in search of food, gas to fill their generators. For so many, 'everything' is gone ..."
Michelle, as long as the people survived, "everything else" seems less significant to us. I am sure it doesn't to you. Trust me, it will pass. I have some personal experience because my dad's grocery store was literally washed away in the Rittman flood of 1969. I remember the smells cleaning that mess up, too.
Our online poll question of the week is "Do you think humans have anything to do with weather events like Hurricane Michael?"
