The Florida Keys are a special place. My then-girlfriend, now wife Katherine and I moved there in 2008 after we finished college. As a graduation gift, my parents took us to Key West for a week-long vacation; a little less than a month later we moved into our first apartment together—a third-floor walk-up at the corner of Duval and Caroline streets in the heart of Old Town. We were initially drawn by the tropical scenery, crystal waters, endless nightlife and live-and-let-live attitude. Once we set up our little house, it became immediately apparent that there was more to it than lobster diving, wearing flip-flops year-round, happy hours that started whenever you wanted them to and using a bike as your only mode of transportation. The people are what makes the place special. They’re quick to give a smile to a stranger, help you acclimate to the somewhat-isolated sense of living on an island and, most importantly, they look after their own.
I got a job as a beat reporter for the Florida Keys Keynoter, a community newspaper owned by the Miami Herald Media Company. Katherine worked her way up from a front desk job at the Ocean Key resort to a sales position primarily focused on helping couples realize their dream weddings. A few years later we got married on the pier attached to the Ocean Key. Mayor Craig Cates graciously officiated the ceremony; his lovely wife Cheryl—who has tirelessly posted useful community information to social media during the recovery effort–sat with our friends and family that gathered to support us. Even though I’ve since moved away, a piece of my heart and my mind will always be in those islands.
As Hurricane Irma approached, I felt helpless watching my friends—my family—struggle with the decision of whether to evacuate. Some did, some didn’t. As the massive storm got closer and closer, phone calls, texts and social media posts began to slow down and then stopped. The islands went dark. My wife and I spent frantic hours using every medium we thought might bear results to check on the welfare of the people we care about. Many are now spread across the country waiting for conditions to improve, while others are in place making the best out of what they have left.
I know that because of cellular communications. As an industry, we get caught up in hype cycles—5G and the internet of things, for instance, to enable immersive virtual reality or new levels of manufacturing automation to name just two use cases. But sometimes, it’s the simple things that are easy to overlook. A scratchy phone call that stays connected long enough for you to hear the words, “We made it,” or a text with a simple thumbs-up emoji.
The Keys are currently only open to residents, media and first responders. But we can stay in touch with them, and they can stay in touch with each other. That doesn’t just happen. Network engineers are working around the clock—working to the point of exhaustion with limited access to food, water and other daily comforts—so that my friend Sheila could let me know she and David, who live a half-block from the Gulf of Mexico, are “comfortable enough. Spotty cell…no water, no electric. The island looks like a bomb went off.” As I’m writing this, and contemplating whether to go to Key West, Sheila texted to offer a “comfy couch. I have a bike for you. We have water three times a day, electric, Wi-Fi, no A/C. Nice fan. Bad wine.” Sue, who helped me learn the ropes of local government from her desk in the City Clerk’s office, and whose husband Mike welcomed me to my favorite bar, the Chart Room, from his security post at the Pier House Resort, lost connectivity last weekend, but got AT&T service back this week. Her first call was on Wednesday to her family in Illinois. Lona, Bryan and their 18-month-old were able to text once they made it back to their home in the Lower Keys: “Big hole in ceiling above AC and water heater. We can see the sky. Garage door and wall pushed in. Warping. Molding. Water damage on almost all ceilings. One balcony totally missing. Driving down today was bizarre. Unrecognizable.”
It’s terrible. The physical impact is staggering, but the human impact is much more profound. In 2005, when I was studying literature at Ole Miss, my parents evacuated their home in Ocean Springs, Mississippi, ahead of Hurricane Katrina. They returned to nothing—hiking in through ruin and debris. They found my high school graduation photo caked in mud nearly a mile from where our home was. It’s traumatic and it’s something that sticks with you forever. But we were able to speak on the phone, support one another and share our sadness because of cellular communications.
Back in Florida, back in the present, Verizon is reporting 97% of facilities are in service, according to Southeast Market President Russ Preite. “And they won’t rest until the remaining 3% of sites are back serving customers.” In the Keys, Verizon deployed satellite picocells on trailers (SPOTs), which provide LTE and voice services solely from generator power and a satellite connection. As utility workers, many that have come in from around the country to help, restore electric services, “Massive refueling operations continue so that towers without commercial power can remain in service via backup generator,” Preite said.
AT&T has mobilized more than 3,000 recovery personnel, along with 14 satellite cell on light truck (SatCOLT) assets, three emergency communications vehicles to provide satellite-based VoIP, Ethernet and Wi-Fi, as well as stores of hazmat suits and other protective gear that will help keep workers safe as they wade through the muck so I can get in touch with loved ones. T-Mobile is aiding the recovery effort from a network and humanitarian perspective, as is Sprint, as are countless other men and women from charitable organizations, local police and fire departments and church groups that have the skills needed to help rebuild the infrastructure and rebuild the community.
That process is well under way and got a big boost yesterday when thousands of residents who evacuated were allowed to return to Key West—to their homes and to their lives. “I’m happy to announce that residents can return,” Mayor Cates, the same man who presided over my wedding, and who is still leading Key West’s government, said. “We’re so proud of all the workers, city staff…and everyone who’s pulled together to get our city up and running.”
To bring this back to telecommunications, it’s not always about undercutting the competition in price, maximizing share holder value or leveraging technology to push the limits of what’s possible. That’s part of it, but another part of it, maybe the more important part of it, is being able to pick up your phone and tell a friend you’re OK, or send a text asking for the help you need. That level of interpersonal connection is a powerful thing and shouldn’t be taken for granted.
