It seems as if every day I'm here in the Houston area introduces me to something worse and more depressing. Yesterday afternoon found me working in Seabrook, in a neighborhood about a half-mile away from my former home, and one that had been hit even harder. Just getting into the neighborhood was a challenge. Between the residents, contractors, FEMA employees, and police, there was little room to squeeze my rental car between the mountains of debris that had narrowed the tiny little street to one narrow lane. The front yard of every single house on North Heron Drive had the same mountain of flood water-soaked detritus. It was if the lives of every resident was piled curbside, waiting to be taken away...and as I was there, contractors moved down the street doing just that.
I did what I was there to do as quickly and unobtrusively as possible, and mostly just tried to stay out of the way. I tried to focus on my job, but it was tough not to stop now and then and look around. Looking down North Heron Drive in either direction was just about the saddest thing imaginable. On a sunny, warm, and muggy September Sunday afternoon, when most people normally would be watching NFL football while sucking down a few cold ones, these folks were tossing their lives curbside, hoping that their flood insurance would cover their loss. And I wanted to cry as I looked around me and saw the "You Loot, We Shoot", "This House Protected By 12-Gauge" signs...or various iterations of similar themes. This was not the sleepy town on the Texas Gulf Coast that I left almost exactly a year ago.
Things could have been worse, I suppose. At least North Heron Drive had electricity and could retreat into the relative comfort of air conditioning...except for the smell of fetid flood water that now permeates everything. I wish I could have taken a few pictures, but out of respect for the residents, I decided not to do anything that might be seen as ghoulish or disrespectful. I could attempt to describe the mountains of refuse and debris, but there's no way I could accurately or adequately describe what I saw on North Heron Drive. What makes this even harder for me is that these are people I lived among for 10 years. I came across them at Kroger, or the post office, or the Subway, or any number of other places in Seabrook. These were all my neighbors, and except for my good fortune in having moved to Portland a year ago, I'd be dealing with the aftermath of Hurricane Ike just as they are, instead of doing my little part to help people recover. I have an intact home to return to, and it's hard not to feel guilty.
I haven't even been here a week yet, and I can tell that this is taking a toll on me...and I haven't been to Galveston yet. I imagine that will change soon. The island is being opened to residents (except for the west end) on Wednesday...not that they'll have much in the way of services to return home to. Still, from what I've been told, Galveston is in far worse shape than Seabrook. I can't even begin to imagine what that must be like.
Thankfully, there is a bright side to all of this misery and devastation. Most schools will be reopending today, and most high school football games were played as scheduled on Friday night. More and more street lights come back on line and more power is restored every day. There's a LOT of work to be done, and a lot of work being done, but life is slowly beginning to return to something resembling normal. Fully normal is weeks, perhaps months, away, but ten days after Hurricane Ike roared through, Houston and southeast Texas are making progress.
I gotta tell you, though; finding a place to get breakfast remains a formidable challenge...and I don't function well on an empty stomach...so let the search begin. Happy Monday, y'all!
