The Editor, Sir:

I must congratulate you and your team for bringing to print events that some people have never heard of, others have forgotten and many reflect on quite often. The 1951 Hurricane Charlie is one such event that I have never forgotten. Repeating the details of that night to my family and friends is something I do with gratitude and amazement.

I was eight years and four months old that August, the eldest of four children. At that time we lived in Mount Felix in St. Thomas. It was a Friday and my mother being Adventist went to the market, daddy could not sit still; he went looking for her, he must have heard about a storm coming.

By late evening neither had come back but a beautiful wind was blowing, the leaves were flipping in the air, dirt and paper followed and my siblings and I stood in the streets spinning around, having the time of our lives. I remember the wind pulling my dress up to my neck and me enjoying ever minute - the innocence of a child.

Looking to the heavens

Many hours later, a car with a bullhorn told us and everyone else to get inside and stay there. My parents were still not back. As time passed, some unforgettable raindrops were pounding on the roof. Next the zinc began to blow off, piece by piece. Soon we were looking to the heavens from inside the house and I was trying to protect my two crying sisters and brother. Wrapped in fear, we went under the bed. We quickly got out because we were about to drown. We could feel the house leaning as the dirt gave way under it. At this point, we all sat on the floor at the highest point of a tilted house and huddled together, listening to all the havoc around us.

Morning eventually came and people who were not hurt were running frantically around, checking on others. We were found, battered, but alive. A woman, Ms. Tulloch, took us home and dressed all of us, boys and girls, in her clothing, fed us and made a fire in her kitchen to warm our water-soaked bodies. Since becoming an adult, no day goes by that I do not give thanks to God for holding on to that house and for saving us; the river below had overflowed its banks, we would have surely drowned. Because of Ms. Tulloch's actions, no opportunity to help one in need passes me by. Finally, our frightened parents arrived home days later; washed-out roads and fallen trees had prevented them from getting there sooner.

I am, etc.,

ALMA STONE

almastone@hotmail.com

4620 SW 42nd Street

Ocala, Florida, USA

Via Go-Jamaica