I relied on an unpublished report by Jose Fernandez-Partagas,
a
late-twentieth-century meteorologist
who recreated for the National
Hurricane Center the tracks
of many historical hurricanes,
among them
the Galveston Hurricane.
He was a meticulous researcher given to long
hours in the library
of the University of Miami,
where he died on August
25, 1997,
in his favorite couch.
He had no money,
no family,
no
friends
--only hurricanes.
The hurricane center claimed his body,
had him
cremated,
and on August 31, 1998,
launched his ashes through the
drop-port of a P-3 Orion hurricane hunter
into the heart of Hurricane
Danielle.
His remains entered the atmosphere at 28 N., 74.2 W.,
about
three hundred miles due east
of Daytona Beach.
~Erik Larson, Isaac's Storm: A Man, a Time, and the Deadliest Hurricane in History
Hurricanes were a fact of life for those of us who grew up in the coastal bend of Texas. Every year or two we were going to have one threaten. Sometimes we would have a couple of storms the same year. Sometimes those storms would head towards Texas.
We would watch the news and monitor the radio, scribbling down "coordinates" to note the movement of the storm on the special Hurricane Map printed in the newspaper at the beginning of the hurricane season.* I lived within 20 miles of the coast for Carla, Beulah, Celia, and Fern and in Austin for Allen.
Harvey didn't seem like he was going to be much of a problem at first. But then he grew and headed straight towards home and our family.
Many evacuated. Those who stayed were able to keep in contact throughout (God bless social media!). Those of us sitting helpless and well out of the way were glued to the weather channel.
This post isn’t going to answer all your questions about the
hurricane that devastated Texas August 25, 2017 (and the effects of which will
mark so many communities along the coast for years to come). It is only my
thoughts and impressions from the last four-plus days I spent “in the zone.”
I headed south for a number of reasons –
my sister lives in Victoria. While it appeared her home was undamaged, there would still be work to do there. I knew my brother was going to be there helping. Sometimes you just need to see each other. We have some family property in Victoria with renters. I had the responsibility of determining the condition of that property and take any action necessary with renters/insurance/repairs. And there were friends and family I needed/wanted to check on further south.
DH was at my side "off and on" as I loaded my car. He kept
slipping things in the suitcase – hat with mosquito netting, knife, other stuff
I’m not going to write about here. He slipped extra cash in my pocket and
kissed me goodbye only to have to do it again about 20 minutes later when I
returned home for a check book and my wallet.**
I was in the bigger of our two tiny vehicles. Somehow I
guess there was comfort in taking DH’s “Soul” with me.*** Donated goods, cases
of water, 4 bags of ice in a 5 day ice chest, and other supplies filled the passenger area. I was happy to be a surrogate for folks in our area who donated supplies and asked me to deliver them. It gave me some way to help and a reason for traveling beyond Victoria.
A circuitous route added an hour to the normal
drive and I arrived on Wednesday afternoon having missed much of the initial
work at my sister’s. Some damage along the route was
obvious, enormous trees uprooted, signs and roofs destroyed, streetlights were
out. And when the sun went down, the city was plunged into darkness save a very
few lights where power was still on or folks were operating generators. ****
Our brother had come and rebuilt/stabilized her fence. He’s
amazing. [We later saw similar work and wondered where he learned to do it. I
suppose we each have many stories/experiences the others do not know.] They
managed to cut up tree limbs and get a majority of the debris to the edge of
the street where, some day, the city will pick it up. For now branches line
most streets all over town.
We traveled downtown to our property and were able to meet
with ½ of our renters. Two out of the three people who work on this side of the
building were in fairly good shape. The third is not. What do you say to
someone with such a loss? There is really nothing to say. “We are so sorry” seems to disappear in the
air.
[It was another two days before we were able to make contact
with the other renters. There are four who work on that side of the property.
Only one had good news. The other three were positive and moving forward.]
Every time loss of property was mentioned here or anywhere
south, the response was always, “But my family survived. The other stuff can be
replaced.” Grace and Guts. We saw it constantly – from the clerks in the
convenience stores to those handing out water, to those gathering donations and
cooking for the hungry. We were told over and over, “We lost no lives here” or
“My family is fine” or “Our neighborhood is working together.”
We saw that homes in “old Victoria” along the river, were
under water. It was the first flooding I
had seen and I knew it was so much less than that in other towns, but that
means nothing to those here along the Guadalupe River who have lost most of
their world.
Thursday Morning –
We finished picking up leaves and twigs in the front yard (3
giant heavy-duty garbage bags full) and then jumped in the Soul for the trip
south. We knew a couple of small towns – Refugio and Woodsboro – had been
directly in the storm’s path and had been sending out messages for help.
In Refugio the organization of donations was well under way.
We dropped a case of water off at the city hall where grateful people let us
know that FEMA would be arriving that day. Refugio is an historic town – and it
was a mess. Buildings were damaged, roofs gone, and trees broken. Forgive me,
but the trees always make me weep. We had already seen huge swaths of mesquite,
huisache, and cat’s claw scrub tumbled and twisted. But the great ancient oaks
“done me in.”****
Utility poles were snapped or leaning. There was no logic to
the damage. Where the winds had there way was destruction.
We moved along to Woodsboro and were directed to three
different places before we recognized their disaster organization was just
getting in gear. Dropping off medical supplies to one of the “food trailers” in
the square, we continued our drive to Sinton.
We already knew that we were in Sinton for hugs. We needed
to see our family there (blood and extended). I needed to reassure myself they
were alive and well and had what they needed. What either of us could actually
do is debatable, but you never know. Maybe we are simply a few minutes of comic
relief and opportunity to catch their breath. Maybe our job is to listen to
their stories of horrible wind and falling trees.
In one case it was to pick up the recycling. One of my
sister’s classmates had been home for a funeral and to check on her mom when
the storm changed everything. She noted on FB a request for a recycling
location. I was pretty sure our little town did not have one so offered to
carry back the plastic bottles (the massive number of which will likely be a threat to the landfills after
this disaster) to recycle at home. After all, I arrived with a full car, but
would be returning almost empty.
And we still had donations moving closer to the most
devastated area from the initial landfall – Rockport and Aransas Pass.
We knew we were not going to those towns. Access is limited
and rightly so. But we knew people who knew people who would get the last of
our load – tennis shoes, diapers, paper goods, toothpaste, shampoo, baby clothes
and so forth. Our first order of business was to locate cousins who had been
cutting down trees for folks. We had lunch with cousins who were cutting down
trees for people who needed assistance. They had stayed with family during
until after the storm had moved inland. Upon arriving home they discovered
their hen house destroyed. Their “odd duck” was under a trailer, but the hens
were gone. Then a neighbor came over to reassure them that all but two of the
chickens survived in her garage! Days later they were cleaning up a yard in
another town and discovered their good deed was performed for the sister of the
chicken rescuer. Small world?
Friday Morning saw us meeting a friend at the Presidio La Bahia to rake up some stuff. We spent some time adding to the burn pile before our ages, the heat, and the mosquitoes chased us home again.
[I re-wrote this post and added photos back on 9-2-2017. I'm changing the title and posting this too for a somewhat different "feel" perhaps. It will bear the same date for archival purposes. Today is 11-3-17. I am sitting home trying to recover from a cold/sinus infection/virus and thought it a good idea to move some of the draft posts from "draft" to "post" or "delete" for my sanity. I generally carry about 25 draft posts. Currently there is a big number 42 staring at me. This cannot continue.
I will admit that some of the posts contain photos and are waiting for text while others just the opposite. Some contain a great quote waiting for the appropriate adventure. Other drafts are merely a title. Whatever the case, I am after them today.
I know massive editing will be required. I smugly finished one yesterday only to find I had ridiculous typographical errors I am blaming on a "clobbed up head" - as the children would say.]
NOTES:
* They were something like this and, buy the time we finished with them some years, contained multiple routes and coordinates scribbled in the margins. We always used a pencil because a mistake in ink would mess up the map.
**I do really love this guy, but he kept talking to me as I
was trying to finish loading the car. No one multi-tasks well, and I definitely
do not when I have storm damage, long drive, and other matters on my mind.
*** Although it is more probable that I wanted the Soul as I have driven it through water before
(7 times) some years ago and survived, as well as, it’s larger packing capacity.
****I am up now after trying to sleep as there are at least
3, maybe 4 generators operating outside my sister’s. The growl is overwhelming
tonight (one generator seems to have been added each night – it sounds like
some kind of factory). Dogs and frogs (and maybe toads) punctuate the night as
well. It’s really crazy out there. We have been sleeping on the porch where we
have been able to catch the evening breeze, but
I cannot block out the noise this evening.
*****A couple of noted “hanging trees” were damaged, but not
destroyed. Somehow I find it harder to weep for the hanging trees.
