In a Monster's Way

On Friday, September the 12th, a monster of a storm was headed for the Texas coast. No one could be for certain, for days prior, just where 'Ike' would land. Corpus? Freeport? Galveston? If he went more westerly, he could have landed between Brownsville and Corpus Christi. More easterly, between Galveston and Southeast Louisiana. Ike didn't have his mind made up and that was a clear case of playing mind games with weather forecasters, hurricane experts, and the coastal communities of Texas.

A few days before folks in low lying areas, such as Galveston Island and the Bolivar Peninsula, were told to evacuate. No maybe about it. You would think after his sister Katrina obliterated New Orleans, folks in the coastal regions of the country would be ready to move. Their sister Rita wasn't a good girl, either. Brother Gustav proved an orderly, and thus successful, evacuation was possible when set his sights on the South's party town. He had a hankering for jazz and jambalaya and their was nothing to do but get out of his way. And he wasn't that big, physically speaking. New Orleans, and the surrounding area, passed the evacuation test. While Gustav tested that capability, Ike chose to test Texas on the aftermath test. Time will tell if that test was passed or not.

I live in Central Texas, hundreds of mile inland. I watch weather events like most watch racing or ball and stick games. I am simply facinated by weather. I've never experienced a tornado much less a hurricane. With the former, you may get minutes to run and hide. The latter, days. Katrina woke me up, shook me up, and broke my heart. Enough said about her. So I've become more attentive. She was huge in physical size, but her brother Ike was larger. At 45, Ike is the largest hurricane I've ever seen. His western most edge was near Brownsville, Texas and his eastern most edge was near Pensacola, Florida. He was almost as big as the state he targeted. The uncertainity of his destination led to the call for evacuations in Texas from Corpus Christi to Beaumont. The closer he got, the smaller the area for mandatory evacuations became. A tremendous and meanacing monster, Ike had the central coast of Texas in his sight.

In the days since Ike landed, we have seen the amazing devastation and destruction he wrought in the counties of Galveston and Harris, two those hardest hit and most reported on. The west end of Galveston Island was reported early on as flooded. The fate of that end of the island was unkown. Fires that broke out on both Galveston Island and in Houston had to burn themselves out. On the island, the San Luis Hotel, a renown fortress like building, was home to the city government and other officials that stayed, including the media. I recall they stayed there during Rita's rampage. Despite it's reputation as a fortress, the San Luis even took a few noticable hits from Ike. The historic Balinese Room, built out over gulf waters, defiantly withstood sisters Carla and Alicia but their brother Ike was too much for the night club to handle. As stout as the Flagship Hotel looks, it suffered from Ike's blows. Ike tossed and scattered boats, big and small, like a child throwing a temper fit. Like swats from a child's angry hand, waves knocked houses down off of their stilts. Those obilterated totally appear to have been the victims of an angry's child's stomps. While Ike swatted and stomped hardest on Galveston Island, and later, we learned, the Bolivar Peninsula, he didn't leave surrounding communities untouched. Kemah, San Leon, Tiki Village, Bacliff, and many other places, were left ravaged by Ike. The televised pictures show a truth: a picture is worth a thousand words. I think I know why that is. When words fail to adequately describe, a picture speaks best, and often in volumnes. It took a while to get the images, but pictures confirmed what those rescued from Crystal Beach had said: "It's gone. It's all gone." From the ferry landing on the peninsula through Crystal Beach and Gilchrist, whole subdivisions are wiped out. Many didn't intend to stay but were just caught. A couple of days before landfall, Ike was sending out a storm surge, a surge that would purge both parts of Galveston Island and the majority of the Bolivar Peninsula. Those intending to leave the peninsula seemed to have been genuinely caught off guard. I've never heard of a storm surge arriving so far ahead of a storm and don't think they expected it. A far preceding storm surge was just one of Ike's quirks. He danced and dodged like a boxer. While some truly meant to leave before Ike arrived, many foolishly and purposely stayed. When the full extent of the damage was revealed in the light of day, I couldn't imagine why anyone intentionally stayed.

Ike was a Goliath of wind and water. Anyone with a television, or computer, could see the mammoth size of the approaching storm. I don't know about any of you, but if I see a monster coming at me, I am getting out of the way! Sitting here in my inland home in Central Texas, in McLennan county, I wondered if I should high-tail it. Originally, we were under a hurricane wind warning! I don't recall such a warning in the past, not even with Rita and at one time she was predicted to ride up I-35, and I am just a few blocks from the highway. As Ike moved inland, we were warned to be aware we could feel hurricane force winds and become drenched in torrential rain. Ike, as he was wont to do, dodged right, and we were spared the worst he could offer inland residents.

While I was dismayed at Ike and his antics and unpredictability, my mother was not. While I found myself alarmed at the prospect of that monster coming inland, my mother was not. At 71, she has lived long enough not to be so surprised, not that she can't be. She has said for many, many years Texas was long overdue for a major hurricane, ala Carla. She remembers Carla and she and dad didn't live on the coast! She says Carla stalled and, as she puts it, "Ducked her head and hit Texas on a dead run." They lived in Beverly Hills, a community surrounded by Waco, and Carla ripped off shingles from their new roof without a care in the world. Mother knows full well how a hurricane can march inland and what it can do. And that brings me to another point.

Comparing the present to the past, I've heard folks reflect how they have never seen a storm and it's devastation so bad. Those who ignored evacuation orders declared they didn't think the storm would be that bad. They determined they could ride it out because they rode out other storms in the past and survived. God only knows for sure just how many of those rode this storm right into eternity. I can't tell you how many times I've heard forecasters, and hurricane experts, say no two storms are alike. Did those folks not hear that? Katrina was no Carla who was no Alicia who was no Andrew who was no Allen who was no Rita who was no Fran and so forth and so on. Do all the children in a family act the same and have the same characteristics?

So to those who survived Ike, don't think you can survive the next storm. Don't be quick to assume "it won't be that bad". Survivors of Katrina probably thought she was a bad as it could get and likely that was the same thought of survivors of Carla, Allen, Andrew and the others. Ike will be outdone, just as his baddest sisters and brothers were. Don't expect the storm surge to arrive hours ahead of the landfall as Ike proved the surge can preceded the landfall by days. Don't assume it will go one way, staying on one path. Many storms have changed their minds and quite a few at the last minute. If tornadoes are the fingers of God, then hurricanes must be his hands. As sure as his fingers can flick away this place and that, this person and that, his hands can wipe away coastal property and wash lives out to sea. Natural disasters, in my opinion, are the most obvious power and proof of God. Who ever said "Don't mess with Mother Nature" was wrong. Acutally, you shouldn't mess with God, especially when he arrives in the form of a powerful storm.