To go or not to go? That was the question after hurricanes Helene and Milton devastated Anna Maria Island, Florida, last fall. Tina and I have treasured our short stays on this beautiful stretch of land for the past 10 years, but we knew it wouldn’t be the same, even if it was possible to go. We gambled, and we’re glad we did.

First, the bad news. In previous years, we’d sometimes go to the Rod and Reel Restaurant, which involved walking out on a long pier to a casual seafood shack about 70 yards from shore. During the inevitable waits, we would watch people of all ages fishing and often, praise be, catching. Last year, we even saw two manatees lazing around under the pier. And now? Gonzo. No restaurant. No people fishing. Just the tattered remains of the pier.

One small shopping plaza used to feature a gift store with about 10 parrots in cages on the sidewalk in front. Each cage had a description (e.g. “Henry is 17 years old. He likes to say ‘Hi, there,’ but he hates it if you mimic him.”) The store is now closed and the parrots are gone. Our favorite ice cream place, a few doors down, is also closed. We heard that the owner is catering parties until he can reopen the store.

On the other hand, Hurricane Hanks, an eatery favored by locals and tourists, just across the street is open and business is booming. I asked the bartender how the storm affected them. “We were only closed for three weeks when no one was allowed on the Island.” I asked why the nearby shopping center was not so lucky. He said, “We are 3 feet higher than they are, and that made all the difference.”

We met a couple from Illinois who spend three months on Anna Maria Island every winter. The woman said that while her hairdresser had to close her shop because of the hurricane, she’s willing to come to her clients to give them a haircut. A man we met in the rental car line in Sarasota said that the hurricane destroyed his beach house. After paying to have the house demolished, he will put his land up for sale. Good luck to him, as we noted several “For Sale” signs around the island, thanks to soaring prices for property insurance (if you can get it.) Lots of construction going on.

Many buildings and houses still retain water marks. On the other hand, the signs saying “AMI Strong” confirm that the islanders have banded together to build for the future and preserve the best of this magical place.

I haven’t seen actual figures, but I’m guessing that Anna Maria Island is about 20% less busy than last year, if auto traffic and restaurant lines are any indication. At the same time, fewer rental options are available so the rental prices haven’t fallen.

But then, yes, the good news. The beach is still the beach. Long stretches of white sand. Gulls and terns foraging for food. Pelicans flying overhead. Para-sailors soaring over the water in the distance. Many happy multigenerational groupings on the beach — kids, parents, grandparents, even great grandparents. Spring breakers being sober, as no alcohol is aloud on the beach. Young women parading by showing, er, nearly everything there is to show. Majestic sunsets. We take timeouts from reading to walk along the beach, looking for shells or, more likely, delighting at seeing kids being kids on the beach, doing everything kids have always done around the water.

As an aside, those who serve visitors seem especially warm and welcoming. They’re glad we returned and so are we. If you’re seeking a retreat from winter’s cold and you don’t require golf courses and fast food franchises and amusement parks, then we can’t recommend Anna Maria Island highly enough.

But what about the future? Actually, Anna Maria Island is essentially a sandbar, about half way between Tampa and Sarasota. There’s no sign that hurricane seasons will be tamer in the future; indeed, quite the opposite. Will Anna Maria Island exist forever? Who knows? I do know that we’ve put down a deposit for next year. With apologies to poet Dylan Thomas (“Do not go gentle into that good night.”) “We will not go beachless into that good night.”

David Treadwell, a Brunswick writer, welcomes commentary and suggestions for future “Just a Little Old” columns. dtreadw575@aol.com.