Community

Every once a in a while, something happens to restore my faith in human nature. Usually, something rather simple, like an unexpected act of kindness. Rarely does it have anything to do with the internet, which usually frustrates me, or social media, which far too many people use as an excuse to let their inner bully come out to play. But much to my surprise, this time what gave me a much-needed burst of optimism was the combination of the internet and social media that is the WordPress community.

A couple of weeks ago, I began having trouble commenting on other blogger’s posts. Then last weekend, I found I could no longer reply to comments on my own post without logging in again (complete with password) each time. I exchanged tons of emails with the Word Press help staff as we tried repeatedly and unsuccessfully to fix the problem. When I discovered I could still write a post, I wrote two short posts just to let my readers know what was going on. I did that partly because I wasn’t at all sure I could keep blogging and didn’t want to simply disappear without letting anyone know why. But if I’m honest, I was also hoping that maybe one of my fellow bloggers had suffered from a similar problem and was willing to share the solution. I thought it was a long shot, but worth the try.

The response was more than I could have possibly hoped for. The tips and suggestions were plentiful and very helpful. For the first time, I began to believe that my blog really would be fixed, which was a huge relief. But what really lifted my spirits was seeing how many people I know only through my blog were willing to take the time to try to help me get my blog back on track. Some offered repeated suggestions, even providing helpful links. One woman (thank you, Margy!) even chatted with a Word Press tech on my behalf and reported back the answer. I was amazed at how generously people gave their time and knowledge to help, without expecting anything in return.

Sometimes blogging seems to demand too much of my time, and every once in a while, it feels like a chore. But I’ve always stuck with it because I valued the creative outlet writing my blog provides, and I also valued the relationships I’ve developed with other bloggers from all over the world. And now I know for sure that blogging is worth the effort, because it shows me, repeatedly, just how most good people really are.

The last email I received from the Word Press techs (aka “Happiness Engineers,” but it’s hard to say that with a straight face) provided the answer I needed to get my blog up and running properly again. Thank you, Paulo. It has something to do with enabling cross tracking, which I didn’t completely understand but my son did, and he explained it to me. I’m sure that I’ll eventually encounter other problems, but that’s okay. Because I’m part of the Word Press community, and we have each other’s backs.

For the past several years, my husband and I have chosen to celebrate our birthdays by taking a short trip together, and this year my husband chose to go to Sanibel Island. We had booked our trip for the third weekend in September long before anyone started talking about Hurricane Irma. But when the category-five hurricane hit southwest Florida in early September, we figured our chances of celebrating my husband’s birthday on Sanibel Island ranged from small to none. Honestly, we knew our disappointment over a cancelled trip was absolutely nothing compared to the hardship endured by those in the hurricane’s path. The televised images of Irma’s landfall were devastating and the suffering it caused was beyond heart-breaking.

After the hurricane, we followed the news to see the extent of the damage, partly to know when we would be able to contact the resort in order to cancel our reservations. Since Sanibel is a barrier island just fifty–some miles from Naples, which took a direct hit, we weren’t even sure if the resort would still be standing. Both my husband and I love Sanibel Island and have visited it many times since we discovered it over thirty years ago. It was painful to realize there was a very real possibility that the hurricane had destroyed the island, or damaged it beyond recognition.

Amazingly, Sanibel sustained very little damage from the hurricane that wreaked so much havoc on other parts of Florida and the Caribbean. We checked the city’s official web page obsessively, so we knew when electricity and water service was restored, when the streets and been cleared of the tangle of branches and trees, and when businesses began to reopen. Then the resort actually called us to say they were up and running and ready for visitors.

Part of me felt guilty for even thinking of going on vacation in a state where so many people were still struggling with tremendous loss. But we went ahead with our trip for two reasons. One, we knew that Sanibel (like much of Florida) has an economy that is directly tied to tourism and losing that income would make it even harder to recover from the hurricane. Secondly, both of us felt a strong need to see for ourselves that our beloved Sanibel Island really was okay.

And it was. True, the signs of the hurricane were everywhere, from the piles of uprooted trees and torn limbs by the side of the road waiting to be picked up, to the hand-lettered “We’re Open!” signs outside many stores and restaurants. We saw utility trucks from all over the country as workers continued to restore power to nearby communities. And everywhere we went, people would ask each other “How are you doing?” “Is your power back on yet?” “Did your house sustain much damage?” Perfect strangers were constantly offering each other encouragement and support as they traded stories of surviving the hurricane.

I have always believed Sanibel Island is a beautiful place. And this visit didn’t change my view, despite the signs of damage and the piles of debris from the storm. Because this time, the beauty I saw wasn’t limited to the palm trees and the sandy white beaches. This time, I saw a community coming together through hope and hard work, repairing the damage and moving forward with determination and optimistic pride. And that was the most beautiful thing of all.