Posts Tagged Galveston

Galveston After Ike

This blog began by text on the front porch of an historic home on the East End of Galveston a few nights after Hurricane Ike devastated the island on September 13, 2008, and a few minutes after I was confronted by a baby-faced National Guardsman with a submachine gun pointed between my eyes. My essays were picked up by the NBC Houston affiliate KPRC-TV, who published them as the Galveston After Ike blog until 2012. If you’re here to learn what it’s like to go through a storm, please read from the bottom up.

I received the note below nearly four years after the storm. It is why I wrote about it. But I’ve moved away now, and am no longer the best spokesperson for that place with more hues than the sea. These essays may serve as an archive of remembrances of a brief time we shared, what we loved, lost, and yes, what we wore.

Happy Sails!

Hi,

I just stumbled across your post Ike essays, and I just have to say “thank you,” because for the first time, I feel like someone really understood me, and understood what I went through. Please don’t misunderstand me, I am very sorry for all of your losses, but I had a very similar story, and it just felt really nice to read your misfortune, and understand that finally, someone else understood.

I, also, didn’t get a dollar from my insurance, nor did I get a dollar from FEMA. I used my savings to fix my house, and then got all of my credit cut because I, too, was self employed in a disaster area. I could go on and on, but suffice to say, our stories matched on so many different levels.

The thing I hated the most was when my friends from out of state or out of area, would “comfort” me by saying “I know exactly how you feel, our car broke down yesterday, and it is a big bummer.” If I had a dollar for everyone that told me that “God had a plan for me,” or “that which does not kill you makes you stronger,” I would be a millionaire.

I still have not dug myself out of my financial black hole, but I do have faith and hope that it will happen one day soon. Thank you for your beautiful essays, and thank you for finally making me feel understood.”

— Andrea T.

, , , , , , , , ,

31 Comments

Cyber-squeaking = not helpful

I moved from Galveston to Atlanta last February. I love my island and quickly adopted the habit of reading the Galveston Daily News online a couple of times a week to appease my homesickness.

It didn’t take long for me to notice a pattern in the online comments about a few apparently salacious subjects: the democratically elected yet unpaid Mayor & City Council, who should live on the island and who should pick them (seriously?), East End-West End relations, Houston area collaboration, progress in general… okay, change of any kind. The public remarks were and are consistently negative, critical, angry, bitter, regressive, and completely not helpful. It made me sad to think the island that showed so much promise and was given seemingly endless opportunity to improve after Hurricane Ike was instead in the radical free-fall that the comments implied.

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , , ,

23 Comments

Of tornadoes & hurricanes & the uniquely qualified

Just last weekend, many of us recognized Easter and Passover, and meditated on the blessings of cleansing, renewal, and rebirth or freedom from the past, both literal and metaphoric. Some of us considered the practical application in our modern lives, and the idea that sometimes we make deliberate choices to separate from what has gone before, and sometimes those choices are foisted upon us.

In the days that followed those holiest of remembrances, tornadoes unexpectedly ravished the Southeast — leveling towns and neighborhoods and taking over three hundred lives. I was riveted to the television and computer, much as I had been thirty-one months ago as the sun came up on what had been my home in Galveston, Texas, the morning after Hurricane Ike roared ashore.

Bolivar Peninsula after Hurricane Ike - Sept. 2008

Tuscaloosa after the tornado - April 2011

Those of us who found our lives upended by that 100-year storm struggled to understand why the eyes of the world were seemingly blind to our plight. It felt like no one cared, no one came (except the carpetbaggers), and certainly no one understood. If we weren’t suffering from collective post traumatic stress, it was something close. Everyone of us said the same thing: “Why me? Why us?”

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , , , , , , ,

15 Comments

I was a Lasker Home Girl

As published in the August 2010 issue of The Islander Magazine.
_____________________________________________________

My name is Rebekah Boyle. I was born March 3, 1918, and my family moved to Galveston, Texas, when I was just five years old. My father left us soon after, and my mother found work as an upstairs maid for a prominent Galveston family. As it seemed she would be quite busy with her duties, it was arranged for me and my younger brother, Jamie, to stay at the Lasker Home for Homeless Children. My older half-brother, George, went to live with his father’s grandparents. I never saw him again and have always wondered what became of him.

The Lasker Home, 1019 16th St. (photo courtesy of Texas Historical Commission)

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , , , , , , ,

9 Comments

An interview with Ida Smith Austin

As published in the July 2010 issue of The Islander Magazine.

________________________________________________

Sitting stately for the past century and a half on the corner of Market and 15th streets, The Austin House, with its double galleries and dual entries, pays homage to the at-one-time-equally important thoroughfares it faces. It is one of those iconic structures where tourists and residents alike stop to point and shoot every day. The home was already over 30 years old when Ida Smith Austin came to live in it and became its loving steward through the turn of the century and the Great Depression.

The Austin House (Oak Lawn) c. 1936

The Austin House (Oak Lawn) c. 1936

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , , ,

3 Comments

Yin-yang, thank you, Ma’am

Brooke got up Wednesday morning in a particularly good mood. She was going to show property all day to a couple who had just three weeks to buy, which meant they were serious and would probably make a quick decision. She had emailed them listings to consider in advance, and they had told her which ones they wanted to see. She had a List B, just in case none of those worked out.

She met them at Starbucks and reviewed the game plan for the day. After a real estate primer, they began the tour. Everywhere they went, Brooke saw other agents she knew and they hugged and wished each other Happy Mardi Gras. The feeling of community was palpable. They were all happy to be out and working again. It had been so slow for so long since the storm.

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , , ,

2 Comments

The difference between Galveston and Haiti

I think I speak for all of Galveston when I say that we’ve had flashbacks this week… flashbacks to September 13, 2008 and the vast media coverage that brought worldwide attention to us as Ike hit and just as quickly moved away, taking the media with it to cover the sudden and apparently unexpected financial crisis that, frankly, escaped our attention entirely.

Because when you’re in crisis, other people’s crises don’t matter all that much, especially when they’re about something as imaginary as Wall Street money.

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , , , ,

5 Comments

Survivor Galveston, four seasons later

We did it. We made it through a full year, four whole seasons, since Ike. The calendar page will turn in a few hours, and we’ll have survived the first full year after the storm. The island looks good, we mostly look pretty good, and we’ve gotten our emotions and psyches back in relative balance.

So what will 2010 bring? Peace. Prosperity. Or at least the beginnings of economic recovery. Because that didn’t happen in 2009, by the way.

2010 will be quiet. No drama. It will bring focus — to our work and our relationships.

At least that’s my prayer.

P.S. Click here to read what I wrote last year.

__________________________________________________

Copyright © 2009 Alice Melott

Essays by this author can also be read by joining http://www.facebook.com/alicethewriter.

, ,

1 Comment

The last word…

About six months ago, I posted the story of my friend, Alex, who was in danger of losing his home and car back to the bank because, as a self-employed small business owner in a slow-to-recover-from-Ike industry, he had been turned down for loan modification by both lenders.

Alex asked me to update you on his story, and says this is his last word on the subject.

Alex’s car was repossessed shortly after this story originally ran, and the mortgage company foreclosed in June. The car company sold the car at auction for $20,000 less than Alex owed on it, and the mortgage company is now marketing his former home at $100,000 less than Alex paid for it. Alex wants everyone to see how illogical the system is — when people struck by natural disaster who WANT to do the right thing and fulfill their financial obligations are met with immutable bureaucracies that refuse compromise only to make a significantly better deal, and take a bath, with the next guy. Alex would have been happy to work with both lenders at FULL VALUE if only they had agreed to restructure the debts.

Finally, Alex says he has moved on. It has been almost a year and he feels like he’s finally getting his daily life back under control — even if it is in a borrowed house and borrowed car. He’s grateful for everything he’s learned and can see the light ahead.

In March, he fell in love. That was the best gift of all.

__________________________________________________

Copyright © 2009 Alice Melott

Essays by this author can also be read by joining http://www.facebook.com/alicethewriter.

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

1 Comment

Smile though your heart is breaking?

My father, an attorney turned French professor, taught me never to ask a question I didn’t already know the answer to. I find that’s a great cross-examination technique, but a hard way to learn, especially for people who’ve been out of the Ike loop. For instance, I reconnected with a couple of wonderful old friends on Facebook this week, and had to finesse the answer to “What’s new?” Things are really great, but it’s so hard to explain why without diving into the yin of our yang. Such a simple question with such huge bunny trails. So finesse from me these days sounds something like this:

6-bedroom/5+ bath Lasker Home for Homeless Children is on the market for $999,900. Owner says "Bring all offers!"

6-bedroom/5+ bath Lasker Home for Homeless Children is on the market for $999,900. Owner says “Bring all offers!”

This month, Jody & I took a Carnival Cruise that truly was. Then fifteen of her family came down for the weekend, and stayed with me in my office, which is in the Lasker Home for Homeless Children, and is where I live. I cooked some cool stuff I’ve snagged and adapted from The Food Network, like shrimp & grits and tempura fried asparagus. We went to the newly renovated Galveston Country Club for the all-you-can-eat seafood buffet Friday night, and had Sunday brunch at the new Olympia Grill on Harborside. (Scallops on the half shell with wasabi seaweed and soy sauce… Oh, my GAWD!)

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , , , ,

3 Comments

For good…

It’s not an affair; it’s a relationship. April 13th is our 7-month anniversary, and we’re in it for the long-haul. We were instantly and irrevocably enmeshed the moment we met. He swept into my life unannounced and immediately changed its course. I dropped absolutely everything for him. He touched me emotionally, psychologically, financially, socially, and physically. All my senses were aroused, and for most of the past half-year, I’ve thought of him almost constantly. Because of him, I have felt my highest highs and my lowest lows. He has changed the way my friends see me and the choices I make about how I spend my time and who I spend it with. I have altered my job, moved my home, taken on new activities, rewritten my future, given him all my money and time. Some people have said I spend too much time on the things he’s introduced me to, but I don’t have a choice. In fact, he has in many ways shown me who my real friends are. He has put his handprint on my life and changed me… for good. I’m grateful to him, and in spite of it all and whatever happens, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Happy Anniversary, Ike. You sonofabitch.

__________________________________________________

Copyright © 2009 Alice Melott

Essays by this author can also be read by joining http://www.facebook.com/alicethewriter.

, , , ,

13 Comments

Face it, Galveston’s been raped

It’s taken me a while to figure out how to talk about this. I didn’t want to distract from the impact of the actual event…but now that the storm is pretty much behind us, we all need to face a really big problem that it uncovered. There are as many stories as there are people on the island, but I’ve picked one to serve as metaphor for all of us. Once you hear it, I trust you’ll share your own here. If we put in a little effort, maybe we can make some changes for the next victims.

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , , , , , ,

21 Comments

Several random thoughts…

So, you know my new addiction is Facebook, right? If you haven’t been there, I can only tell you that it’s your assumptions and prejudices and ignorance — yes, ignorance — that are holding you back. I’m 50 (almost 51) years old, and two weeks ago I was absolutely certain I was way too cool (and old) for such falderol — and I was as wrong as I’ve ever been in my life. I spent 25 years in high-level professional communications, and this is the single most brilliant social and business communications invention — innovation — I have ever seen. Just do it! It will rock your world. If it doesn’t, write me and I’ll refund your investment.

This last week on Facebook, I was introduced to a concept called “25 Random Thoughts About Me.” You write 25 things about yourself and then invite 25 people close to you to do the same. What comes from it is poetry… and insight… and truth. Don’t think. Just do it. Again, I’ll refund your investment… Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

A visit to Smith Point

Windchimes peel at Smith Point

Windchimes peel at Smith Point

Gail Nash wrote me tonight, saying:

“You asked in your blog about Bolivar, “where did everything go?” Well, for starters, I think a whole lot of it went to Smith Point, including one of the 2 people who escaped Bolivar at the last minute. My brother-in-law and the sheriff found him alive and took care of him! The Nashes have 2 family homes in Smith Point. My sisters-in-law had a permanent home, and the other one is more a fishing place. There were roofs from at least 3 houses in the yard. And Shannon, my brother in law, is using wood that floated on to the property to try to rebuild the house. It was a one story house on blocks that has been there since the 1930’s!

_________________________________

Here are the rest of Gail’s pictures. They are an unembellished reminder of that which we believed we would not, could not forget… It ain’t over.

 

http://picasaweb.google.com/nursenunn/IkeTheAftermathSmithPointTxPhotosByJayPragueAndHisDaughter?authkey=TW63dHA81qs#

http://picasaweb.google.com/millyuns/SmithPointIke?authkey=FUPDwrgk8Mo

__________________________________________________

Copyright © 2009 Alice Melott

Essays by this author can also be read by joining http://www.facebook.com/alicethewriter.

, , , , , , , ,

3 Comments

Coming of age, embracing change

Last night I had dinner with a group of friends that included a 77-year old and her 25-year old grandson. The conversation turned to the relative merits of Facebook versus MySpace, and listening to the two generations talk in terms of acronyms and modern heiroglyphics (like smiley face icons), I found myself time-traveling back thirty years to a series of unforeseeable events — those that would notably shape the first half of my adult life.

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

7 Comments

HAPPY NEW YEAR from Galveston – Anybody got a hat?

I haven’t told this story before.

On Wednesday, September 10, 2008, I decided to cash in my birthday massage coupon – it being six months old already and all – and since we thought the third storm in a month was headed south of Galveston, I thought what the heck? And if it decided to come closer to us, we still had ‘til Friday to get out. We’re well rehearsed at this stuff, and I deserved an afternoon off.

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , , , ,

4 Comments

Paper or plastic?

I need to talk about plastic bags.

True confession: About twice a week I take the 16 plastic bags (usually doubled) that they give me at the store to carry home my dozen or so items — and I use them to pick up dog poop and line wastepaper baskets and whatnot — and then I throw them away, feeling pretty righteous that I reused them, if I think about it at all.

As I drove off the Bolivar Ferry on Sunday, I was immediately struck by the cotton field to my left — a vast expanse of stick-like shrubbery with balls of white on thousands and thousands of its tips.

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , , ,

5 Comments

“Grow up,” said Ike

 “You live everyday at the beach, yet you take so much for granted. How often do you really stop to count your blessings? Is it enough?

Billy & Ruthi's morning shot

Billy & Ruthi's morning shot

“Do you walk each day along the shore, toes buried in the sand, dreaming your dreams or hunting seashells or solving the world’s problems? Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , ,

8 Comments

Bolivar revisited

Crystal Beach water slide

I finally went to Bolivar yesterday.

I hadn’t planned it. I went out for coffee and wound up on the ferry. There was no wait, and schools of dolphins met the ferry coming and going. It was magical in its way — cool, gray, serious, but surprisingly beautiful — like a Eugene O’Neill play.

I’ll leave you to ponder the pictures yourselves. We’ll talk tomorrow after it’s set in. Here’s my image gallery…

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , ,

4 Comments

I got my future back

My balcony oasis

My balcony oasis

On hearing the results of the recent Presidential election, Gloria Steinem said, “I feel like I got my future back.”

We’re having an “Ike Orphans Potluck Throwdown Thanksgiving Dinner” at my loft this year. I sweep and vacuum and dust away the layers of Ike dust that seem to flake off and grow back like dry skin — plant little violas (the only flowers Home Depot had, and they’re perfect) in my balcony pot garden — re-place the photographs of my friends where I can smile back at them at will — and sing along with the soundtrack of “Mamma Mia,” not caring a lick who hears me…

I feel like I got my future back.

Thank you.

__________________________________________________

Copyright © 2009 Alice Melott

Essays by this author can also be read by joining http://www.facebook.com/alicethewriter.

, , , ,

1 Comment

67 days

I am home.

From inside my Strand-area loft, apart from the disarray that accompanies unpacking and a layer of Ike dust, you can’t tell that anything has changed. It’s the journey from the curb to the front door that reminds you — the construction site you have to navigate to get in.

So what? That’s pretty much what all of Galveston looks like now — like everybody decided to do a good Spring cleaning and a little remodeling at the same time. It’s a big ol’ clean-up job. Here’s the most useful word in the English language: Next!

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , ,

3 Comments

Almost home

Two weeks ago, my contractor’s designated client updater told me it would be 60-90 days before I could move home. On the strength of that, and with nowhere left to go in Galveston for that amount of time, I moved about 2½ hours away to the land of negligible technology so I could be someplace for the duration. It was my fifth move in six weeks. (And that’s all I’m going to say about my absence from this blog for the last ten days.)

 

Before I left on Saturday, I went by the lofts everyday, where I bore witness to an embarassment of non-work. Finally, I sent a curious email — i.e., “What the heck’s going on or should I be asking someone with J.D. after their name?” — and about an hour later, I got a call from Mr. Contractor himself. He was standing in my unit and started to tell me that my problem was not roof-related – until I mentioned the unit above mine, to which he replied, “Oh, there’s a unit above you?”

 

Long story short – and this isn’t intended as a black comedy – the utilities were on and he said my repairs would be complete in about two weeks. So I’m almost home.

 

__________________________________________________

Copyright © 2009 Alice Melott

Essays by this author can also be read by joining http://www.facebook.com/alicethewriter.

, , , ,

Leave a comment

Why do you stay?

Sometimes I think people confuse optimism with exaggeration, denial, or even downright deceit. I read blog comments (somewhere else) this morning accusing realtors who reported sales statistics since the storm of being liars. Of course, statistics are statistics, so the accusation reveals the blogger’s bias against real estate agents far more than it says anything useful about the market or the realtor.

But that’s not my point. My point is that you can be optimistic and still be realistic. Every spiritual discipline since God was a boy has some version of the fundamental duality we see graphically on display in Galveston today — yin & yang, cause & effect, light & dark, devil & god, high & low — where the most beautiful days at the beach are punctuated by tent cities, mounds of debris, and still incongruous boat wreckage.

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , ,

6 Comments

%d bloggers like this: