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Rebuilding what a gustnado can just blow away

Wrecked by a windstorm, a Largo mobile home has been repaired and is nearly ready for the return of its owner, who is philosophical about life's losses.

By JACOB H. FRIES
Published September 6, 2005

LARGO - Life, if nothing else, confronts us with loss - loss of youth, kids who grow up and move away, spouses who die too soon - all as practice for our own final act of dying.

But until then, life also teaches us how to survive, to see silver linings in the darkest moments and to rebuild even stronger.

At least that's what Robert Conklin hopes.

He is watching those made homeless by Hurricane Katrina, and in the thousands of faces fleeing the Gulf Coast, he sees a part of himself.

In a small way, he can relate to their loss: His house was wrecked July 20 when separate funnel clouds called "gustnados" sliced through a swath of the city, damaging 50 mobile homes. A handful, like Conklin's, were condemned.

Sorry, a visitor tells him.

"Fahgetaboutit," Conklin replied, betraying his Brooklyn roots.

This is life, and in his 74 years, Conklin has seen plenty of it. He left grammar school to work in New York's factories. He loaded tank cannons in Korea. While there, he fell in love with a girl he knew only through letters.

He later found her in upstate New York, got married, had a son named Robert, became a butcher, landed in Florida and watched cancer take his Patricia after almost 50 years of marriage.

Conklin knows about rebuilding.

This week, repairs to his home should be completed. Then electricity will be restored, and if building inspectors give the okay, he will move back in, after $6,500 paid out of pocket and more than five weeks squatting in a neighbor's house.

* * *

The violent storm that took Conklin's roof first erupted in a deafening boom about 6:30 p.m. that evening, right behind the Home Depot near Largo Mall. Witnesses saw the twisting winds continue north into the Town & Country mobile home park, where Conklin lives, before they crossed Seminole Boulevard and slammed the Palm Hill Country Club mobile home park.

Meteorologists later said the winds were gustnados, which form when a storm front with high winds collides with a stationary sea breeze, pushing downbursts toward the ground in a small but destructive, tornadolike spinning motion.

No one was injured, but the storm took its toll in other ways, causing $437,705 worth of damage in the Palm Hill park alone.

Conklin had been watching TV news. The weatherman said to expect some wind and rain.

Right then, the ceiling of Conklin's Florida room was pulled into the sky, joining other swirling metal. More of the roof disappeared over his head and rain poured in.

"I'm not complaining," Conklin said, interrupting his own story. "I feel pretty lucky ... $6,500 is not bad. This is nothing compared to what they've got in New Orleans."

* * *

Last week, as a crew of workers fashioned a new roof over his kitchen, Conklin wondered whether he would continue to live in a mobile home or move into something more secure.

He and his wife had lived in a condo, but after her death in 2003, he wanted to try something different.

So he sold the condo and moved to Texas to be closer to family. He returned in January, alone, and bought the home at Town & Country.

"I don't know if I want to go through this again," Conklin said, his eyes turning from his tarp-covered house to the dented and dinged homes of his neighbors. "Life is funny."

Conklin sighed, then broke into a chuckle.

"Fahgetaboutit."

[Last modified September 6, 2005, 03:15:21]