SouthFlorida.com | City Link Magazine

As a fourth-generation Floridian, I've spent a good deal of my life carping about the detrimental effect the ever-rising influx of nonnatives has had on my home state. Without hesitation and with a healthy realization that my argument is as futile as it is arrogant, I've blamed these "nons" for nearly everything that has gone wrong in South Florida during my lifetime: Everglades pollution, suburban sprawl, the 2000 election debacle, clogged highways, sky-high housing costs, the city of Weston. I can't even begin to tell you how many times I've suffered to hear people say, "I hate South Florida. Everyone here is rude and drives like shit. It's not like this in [insert allegedly perfect city, state or country here]." Without exception, everyone who has expressed this sentiment to me was not born in Florida. And without exception, neither were the people about whom they were complaining. My reply to such griping is always the same: "You are welcome to leave at any time. And please take BeachPlace and your Hummer dealerships with you." (And yes, I fully realize that natives constitute a large portion of Florida's asshole demographic. At the moment, none comes to mind, though I'm sure you can easily think of one.)

While my little argument has long had more holes than the Miami Dolphins' offensive line, it finally received a tremendous display of support last week. Hurricane Wilma was the biggest blowhard to strike South Florida in decades -- and in a state populated by such carpetbaggers as Jeb Bush and Lenny Kravitz, that's saying something. Yet the storm turned out to be as unifying as it was destructive. On Monday, Oct. 24, it didn't matter if you were born at Buffalo General or Hollywood Memorial; as Wilma was playing 52 pickup with our ficus trees and power poles, it was also acting as a great equalizer. By the time it was safe for everyone to venture outdoors and survey the damage, all the nons had become natives, all the part-time residents were now full-timers. Hell, even the snowbirds were no longer unwelcome nuisances but full-fledged citizens. Moving into a million-dollar condo in Fort Lauderdale doesn't -- and never will -- make somebody a Floridian; but living through a hurricane such as this one sure as hell does.

I don't know where the people whose photos we've published on the following pages were born. And frankly, I don't care. The anguish on the woman's face pictured above is my anguish; it's our anguish -- Floridians all.

Jake Cline
Managing editor

We'd like to thank the following Sun-Sentinel photographers for the use of their photographs:

Joe Amon
Joe Cavaretta
Robert Duyos
Scott Fisher
Gina Fontana
Michael Laughlin
Robert Mayer
Tim Rasmussen
Jim Rassol
Josh Ritchie
Carl Seibert
George Skene
Mike Stocker
Susan Stocker
Angel Valentin
Nicholas R. Von Staden
John L. White
George Wilson