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A long way to get away from danger

A mother and son from Miami drive north to shelter in Plant City rather than risk losing everything at home.

MELANIE AVE
Published September 4, 2004

TAMPA - There was no agonizing over this decision.

"We were in a panic," said the mother, a rosary hanging from her neck, worry lines creasing her forehead. "Someone called us a week ago and said, a hurricane is coming. It's coming to you.

"Day after day, it became worse and worse."

Silvia de Salterain and her 13-year-old son, Martin, live 20 blocks from the water in Miami's Coconut Grove.

The sky was still sunny Thursday morning when Silvia taped up the windows of her three-bedroom home and made the decision to head north. Martin took his PlayStation video game player with him. Silvia grabbed a white teddy bear from the living room. The message on his green T-shirt seemed to call to her: "Somebody from Miami Loves Me."

Martin was starting to get a fever, the kind a mother knows has nothing to do with a virus.

"Martin was very, very ..." she said.

"Scared," he said.

"Right."

Mother and son got into a borrowed Ford Focus and drove north.

One hotel stay and many country songs later, they arrived at Turkey Creek Middle School in Plant City early Friday. Classes were closed and the school now was an emergency shelter for families on the run like the de Salterains.

American Red Cross volunteers welcomed them. For the first time in several days, Silvia de Salterain felt happy and relieved.

She and Martin ate chicken sandwiches and potato cakes in the cafeteria.

Martin told his mom they had made the right decision. His fever was practically gone.

"She never trusts me," said Martin, headphones looped around his neck. "This time, she trusted me."

If there's such a thing as prime property in a shelter, the de Salterains seized it. They planted their suitcase next to the small television and its continuous news coverage of the approaching storm.

By 8:30 p.m. Friday, there were only about 40 others like them in Hillsborough's six shelters. Emergency operations spokeswoman Holley Wade said the traffic jams on roads leading to Hillsborough hinted at a large-scale need for beds. Initial reports showed people driving up from south Florida and west from Polk County, which was hard-hit by Hurricane Charley three weeks ago.

The meager crowds didn't mean people were not taking precautions, she said.

Planners noticed a "huge influx" of people into area hotels and motels, she said. Others may be staying with friends and family. It's a desirable alternative because shelters, while serving a need, are cramped and filled with strangers, she said.

Yet Wade didn't rule out the possibility that as Frances' strength waned, many people may have decided to ride out the hurricane in their own communities - or wait until the last minute to flee.

She didn't like that idea. A category 3 hurricane, which Frances turned into Friday night, remains a powerful storm, she said.

"You don't want to be out in it," Wade said. "There may be a false sense of security."

Silvia, a native of Argentina, entertained no such illusions. She has lived in Florida off and on for 25 years. She was out of the country in 1992 when Hurricane Andrew hit South Florida. But when she came back three days later, her church was gone. The lush landscaping surrounding her friend's home was stripped bare. Boats blown from the water sat in the streets.

Her friend told her how the wind sounded like millions of crying children.

And yet, even as Frances crawled toward South Florida, very few of Silvia's friends seemed worried enough to evacuate.

"We decided to do it alone," Silvia said. "I preferred to save my son's life and my life."

Before Silvia and Martin left Miami on Thursday, a friend stuck a small black pouch in Silvia's hand. In it was a rosary, a gift from the pope to a nun, she said. The pope told the nun to give the rosary to a child.

"She told me, "Take this with you and everything will be okay,"' said Silvia, an unemployed graphic artist.

Silvia wore it all the way to Tampa.

Friday afternoon, mother and son spread their blankets out on the school's tile floor. They thought they would probably be there through Sunday.

On the TV, a meteorologist was saying the storm's wind speeds had declined. It looked like Frances was going to make landfall north of their home.

"Maybe I'm in a panic," Silvia said. "I think I did the right decision even if nothing happens. The only decision is to leave when you are in danger."

Another evacuee, an elderly man, walked up to Silvia. The teddy bear sat at her feet.

"The hurricane changed any?" he asked.

She paused, then answered: "It seems to be better."

Times researcher Cathy Wos and staff writer Josh Zimmer contributed to this report. Melanie Ave can be reached at 813 226-3400 or melanie@sptimes.com

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