“Think of the worst snow storm, except it’s sand,” said Kim Carlin, describing the wreckage that had ruined their home on Anna Maria Island, Florida. 

In the fall of 2024, Hurricane Helene followed by Hurricane Milton historically wrecked the Tampa Bay area, an event that residents never expected. The last major hurricane hit the bay over a hundred years ago, then acting as more of cautionary lore than a real threat. As the tourism industry grew and the population boomed, the close calls with hurricanes gave residents a sense of security. Until mid-October of 2024.

Anna Maria Island is a small part of the Tampa Bay area, roughly between St. Petersburg and Sarasota, Florida. If you go over the Sunshine Bridge, past sleepy Palmetto, and through Bradenton, you’ll be met with a little slice of paradise. Only 7 miles long and 10 blocks wide. The petite island is packed with beach cottages, old Florida style condos, local art galleries, and end to end beaches. 

Dorothy Carlin has lived on Anna Maria Island for nearly 50 years, back before the tourist traffic and scantily clad spring-breakers. She remembers a time when an old woman lived on the island and armed a shotgun, threatening tourists that invaded the area. The pristinely graded sand beaches didn’t exist yet, instead, mangroves and forest manned most of the island. 

Her, her husband Bill Carlin, and their son John moved into a two bedroom condominium on the middle-south end of the island, set with a waterfront view and over 150 units of new neighbors. 

“If we’re going to live out here, I want to live on the water,” Dorothy had told her husband, who had searched for jobs in the area to let them move down from their chilly home in Ohio. Their son John, in eighth grade, ran track and wanted to be closer to a coach in Sarasota. That wasn’t their only motivation though.

“The sun was shining” Dorothy remembers of their trip to her grandmother’s in the area, which ended up encouraging them to move down south. The dreamy landscape was a direct contrast to the cold, brutal winters they experienced in Ohio and the family was ready for a change.

While searching for jobs, her husband Bill had put on his resume the line, ‘If I could live in Florida, it would be Heaven’. When he received the call from his new employer at the Winter Haven truss plant, their first line to Bill was, “This is heaven calling”.

Her, her husband Bill Carlin, and their son John moved into a two bedroom condominium on the middle-south end of the island, set with a waterfront view and over 150 units of new neighbors. 

“If we’re going to live out here, I want to live on the water,” Dorothy had told her husband, who had searched for jobs in the area to let them move down from their chilly home in Ohio. Their son John, in eighth grade, ran track and wanted to be closer to a coach in Sarasota. That wasn’t their only motivation though.

“The sun was shining” Dorothy remembers of their trip to her grandmother’s in the area, which ended up encouraging them to move down south. The dreamy landscape was a direct contrast to the cold, brutal winters they experienced in Ohio and the family was ready for a change.

While searching for jobs, her husband Bill had put on his resume the line, ‘If I could live in Florida, it would be Heaven’. When he received the call from his new employer at the Winter Haven truss plant, their first line to Bill was, “This is heaven calling”.

Dorothy’s memories of the old island tell of a dreamy oceanside lifestyle. After learning how to catch blue crab in the bay, her son John sold them and saved up enough money to buy a John boat. Today, Dorothy says “We had blue crab coming out of our ears, I don’t like it anymore”. 

Afternoons were spent digging up clams for a clam bake, strawberry picking inland, and collecting shells on the beach. Dorothy fondly remembers bringing floats to Siesta Key, an hour drive from the island, to use to collect sand dollars that she dove for with her family. 

“My son grew up in that bay”, she recalls. A shell enthusiast herself, she loves where she lives. She routinely wears a  gold chain and shell charm of a ‘chinese hat’ that her late husband gave her for their fiftieth anniversary. 

Even as she tells of the destruction that her long time home faced she says, “I never regretted living there, when you live there you are signed up for whatever.”

Despite knowing that, when her and her daughter left for the first hurricane, they only packed enough clothes for the weekend, expecting to be back in a few days. “All those years, we never had a bad storm” she remembers, explaining her reasoning for only bringing a box of family photographs from her storied condo. 

Now the two women are living with a friend of Kim a short drive from the island. Once access to the island was open again, Kim and a friend trekked a mile in flip flops from the bridge to the island to grab what clothes they could and her mother’s medication. Later on, they relied on friends from church and a boat taxi service to take what they could from the water logged home. 

Kim lost her laptop in the flood, left next to her bed while her second laptop, balancing on a cooler flipped and left it unusable. “Picture everything in the water” she says “I have bills but they won’t accept that anymore”.

“I hope we don’t lose that old Florida feel”, Kim laments, worrying about what the recovery for the island will look like. Even before the hurricanes hit, the island had already changed significantly from the quiet, local scene it used to be. Tourism in the island has increased drastically over the past few decades, transforming it into a completely different landscape.

The owners of the island have changed, “It used to be that 5-10% of condos were rentals, and now it’s flipped,” Kim explains. The two women don’t know their neighbors anymore, losing the sense of community that the condominium used to have with happy hour by the pool and sharing meals in the club house. 

Dorothy’s son, John, used to dress up and take the island trolley to Bible school by himself on Sunday mornings. “It’s changed, I don’t know if I’d do that anymore”, Dorothy shares. Though she thinks the tourists are kind, the island doesn’t have the same safety she felt before. 

Even before the hurricane effectively leveled the island, the environment was already changing. The abundant sea life of the bay that Dorothy remembers doesn’t exist anymore, at least not in the numbers that it used to.

Though her favorite wildlife, dolphins and manatees, are still visible from her condo porch, the environment has changed. Many manatees show off scars from boat motors on their backs, and dolphins frequently become injured by fishing nets and debris found in the sea water. Though a tourist’s trip to the island may only last a weekend, the effects of their stay leave a lasting imprint on the island. Despite the fond memories of hosting clam bakes with her family and watching her son catch blue crab, Dorothy doesn’t trust the bay anymore. 

“Today I don’t want to eat anything out of there (the bay)” Dorothy shakes her head. 

The influx of tourists has changed the nature of the island as well, with the sand beaches being filtered for shells to be sold or used in concrete. As a shell lover herself, Dorothy remembers when she could find conchs in the bay and shells scattered the beach. She expresses, “I think they (tourists) ruined it. Everything has changed.” 

The revolving door of sun burnt tourists has changed the feel of the island, but despite that, Dorothy can’t wait to move back when the condo is renovated. Now, they will be better prepared for the next storm season with hurricane proof windows and water proof cement board to prevent flooding. Today, the question is if Anna Maria will maintain the old Florida feel that Dorothy loves when it has a chance to rebuild after the mess of the hurricanes. 

“It’s probably the best place on earth,” Dorothy laughs, “I’m trying to die there”

“You might make it”, Kim agrees.