Hurricane planning in full swing

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FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. -- With time running out on the June 1 start of the 2006 hurricane season, Lois and Rick Josepher were planning yet another run to Home Depot.

Mr. Josepher ran through a checklist that might equally have applied for an extended camping trip.

A dozen propane-gas bottles, a camping stove, walkie-talkies, Coleman lanterns, fans, several large ice coolers, about 20 flashlights of various sizes and shapes, plastic "FEMA" blue tarps, a gas-powered electricity generator, a rack of 10-gallon water bottles, extension cords and piles of canned goods were laid out across the couple's Parkland, Fla., garage floor and kitchen counters.

"We need more [5-gallon gasoline] containers. We have a lot of batteries, but they are from last year. I think we need to get some more," said Mr. Josepher, a 52-year-old Boca Raton, Fla., tax lawyer and Florida native who has weathered dozens of hurricanes, including Hurricane Wilma last year and the Category 5 Hurricane Andrew in 1992.

With installers reporting a six-month backlog, it was too late for the Josephers to buy steel hurricane shutters, or replacement windows made with polycarbonate that can withstand being hit by debris propelled by 150 mph winds.

It has taken the Josephers six months to get the city permits and county inspections, collect from their insurance company, purchase the materials and hire the roofers to repair the barrel tiles that were blown off their home when Wilma rampaged across South Florida in October.

"I'll double the water order next week," said Mrs. Josepher, surveying broken roof tiles and a mailbox that still leans at a precarious angle. "I'll call the roofers again today. They said they'd come. ... It is dry now, but the rainy season starts soon."

The family was asked whether they had an evacuation plan in case another Category 5 hurricane comes steaming toward their gated community of manicured lawns and swimming pools close by the Everglades.

"You mean if we get another Andrew? Andrew was the scariest night of my life," said Mr. Josepher. "No. We won't evacuate. By the time you know where it's going to hit, there is no time and nowhere to go. You don't want to be out on I-95 in a car during a hurricane. We'd do the same thing we did in Andrew -- spend the night in a closet.

Down Interstate 95 in Hollywood, Fla., Yvonne Honaker, a public schools administrator, was preparing as well. A new generator, her second, should ensure she can operate her refrigerator and air conditioner if the power fails, as it did for nine days after Wilma hit on Oct. 24.