There's bad, there's worse...and then there's Seabrook

And so it begins....

I was finally able to make it to Seabrook this afternoon...and to call it worse than I could have possibly imagined wouldn't begin to do justice to what I saw. On the little cul-de-sac where I used to live, and my ex-wife still does, the damage isn't too bad, but all you have to do is to look down the street, to see the impact that Hurricane Ike had on Seabrook.

My former home was thankfully spared, the only real damages being to the pecan trees in the back yard. The cul-de-sac on Nassau Drive was almost literally the only place in the city that did not flood. Just a block away, the water lines in houses were three feet high. These folks have had to pile their belongings, which smell like sewage, curbside and wait for the city of Seabrook to arrange pickup.

If you walk around the corner from Nassau Drive onto Capri Lane, what you'd see, besides the debris still in the road, are trees buried in houses, trees toppled in front and back yards, and appliances and rolls of carpet that have been pulled out of houses...and no electricity. The combined hum and whine of generators and chain saws provide the soundtrack for residents trying to salvage what they can from theirs homes.

And that's not even the worst of it. I drove down Todville Rd. along the waterfront, and what I saw brought me close tears. I'm pretty good at throwing words around, and even though my vocabulary is probably larger than that of your average bear, I can't do justice to what I saw. Todville Rd. is where I would have wanted to retire to if I'd stayed in Seabrook. Buy a home on the waterfront and while away the days with a margarita machine and Jimmy Buffett in the background as we gazed out over Galveston Bay. That was the plan, anyway.

What I saw was shocking: transformers lying by the side of the road, transformers dangling from damaged power lines like metal pinatas, homes blown off their slabs and onto side streets, docks folded like accordions. Except for the lack of burn damage, one might think someone had dropped a few mortars onto Todville Rd.

I wanted to take pictures of what I saw on Todville Rd., but I didn't want to feel ghoulish. It was hard enough to see what had happened on Seabrook's waterfront, and with all of the homeowners, insurance adjusters, and police officers roaming the area, the last thing anyone there needed was someone holding up traffic in order that they might grab a few pictures. I can't begin to put words to my emotions, but I do know that I could happily go my entire life without seeing anything like what I saw yesterday. I may no longer live in Seabrook, but I spent 10 years of my life there, and I still know a lot of people there. I still have a sizable emotional investment in that small town on the Texas Gulf Coast, and it breaks my heart to see what's happened to my former home. No one deserves to have to deal with something like what Ike left behind.

This morning, I get to begin making what little contribution I can to the recovery efforts. I can only hope that I'll be able to maintain at least a minimal degree of professional detachment. After yesterday, though, I'm not at all certain that I have that detachment within me.