her perspective
'Tis the Season
By Sharla Gorder
’Tis the season.
No, not the fa-la-la-ing one; it’s that other season, the one Jim Cantore rose to fame on. It’s hurricane season, y’all.
Yesterday, as if on cue, a Facebook photo memory popped up on my phone that filled me with both apprehension and gratitude. It dated back to October 11, 2018, the morning after Category 5 Hurricane Michael decimated our neighbors near Panama City, destroying everything in its path.
But here, just 160 miles to the west, only monstrous waves disturbed our shores. And with those epic waves came a spectacle I had never witnessed in all my years of beachcombing.
In the clear dawn light the morning after, I stumbled upon a trove of seashells so spectacular it took my breath away. There before me, covering just a few yards of beach, thousands of starfish, Venus sunray clamshells, Scotch bonnets, whelks, tiger’s eyes, olives and sand dollars had washed up on the shore.
I stood in awe for the longest time, then snapped a few photos.
When I got home, I posted one of the pictures on Facebook — a lovely shot of the shells from a low angle, with a young girl in the background bent over her blue bucket. I captioned it with a plea: “There are treasures after every storm. PLEASE help our neighbors to the east.” And I listed several ways locals could pitch in (Cajun Navy, Red Cross, etc.).
Within 48 hours, my phone blew up with notifications. The photo had gone viral but with an unfortunate twist. A woman had extracted just the photo from my post and shared it uncaptioned and unattributed.
Within days the image had been shared hundreds of thousands of times and had garnered tens of thousands of comments, many of them not kind.
How, you might wonder, can a pretty photo of seashells bring out the trolls? Well, first of all, the authenticity of the shot was challenged — it even got picked up (and validated) by Snopes. Second, it seems that a few folks kinda blamed me for the “death of so many beautiful sea creatures.”
But the worst ignorant accusation went something like this — “If that girl could take the time to post fake pictures after such a tragedy, you’d think she’d be able to take five minutes or five dollars to actually help the situation.”
I read this comment while sitting on my deck. I looked down across the driveway at my husband’s truck. The bed was piled high with bottled water, canned goods, diapers and other staples. We had emptied the shelves at Sam’s, and Ted was on his way to Panama City.
More negative comments poured in, and I banned myself from social media. I had gotten lost down that dark rabbit hole, and my mental health was suffering. It was so disturbing to me how my well-intentioned attempt at encouraging local involvement in this crisis had backfired so horribly. People were very cruel. I was mad at humankind.
Until…Rodney.
About a week into my self-imposed social media fast, a Facebook instant message notification from a guy in the Midwest named Rodney made it through. I’m not sure why I responded, but I’m glad I did.
I braced myself for another tirade, but instead, he said this:
“You don’t know me, but my family has been spending Octobers on Pensacola Beach these last few years. A friend of mine in Indiana ran across your viral photo and forwarded it to me asking, ‘Isn’t this the place you vacation every year?’ I looked at the photo and was stunned. ‘Yes, it is, and that’s my daughter Sage in the background.’”
This photo had traveled all over the world on social media and come back to me in the spirit in which I had intended — to draw people together, not rend them apart.
Rodney was so gracious and lovely that my faith in humanity was restored. All those malicious internet trolls were obliged to skulk back under their bridges where they belonged, and I was finally able to enjoy the beautiful photo with gratitude.
There really are treasures after every storm.
The photo described here and 63 others of the beach at sunrise are featured in Sharla’s newest book, “Crayon Dawn,” set to debut in October.
