Hurricane Ike

Hurricane Ike is bearing down on the Gulf Coast, and Galveston/Houston in particular today; I've been following the reports closely since both my sister, brother, and many of my extended family live in Houston. My sister's report today is all about preparations for Ike; boarding up, gathering supplies, moving potted plants to safer ground, and surveying the trees and hoping they will withstand the wind. I don't envy what people in that part of the country will experience tonight as the storm comes ashore.

Reading her words and seeing the pictures of "the calm before the storm" is eerily reminiscent of my one and only experience of a major hurricane back in August 1983. Alicia, a category 3 hurricane, rather unexpectedly blasted through metropolitan Houston. The storm had been predicted to track further southwest of the city but at the last minute made a turn to the north, barreling up through Galveston with mighty force after dark. We knew it was coming but hadn't really prepared as we should; no windows boarded up or supplies put aside. We did have flashlights and batteries in the radio which was smart as power went out mid-evening.

Denny and I weathered that storm all night, huddled in the protected stairwell of our home, hearing the howling winds of Alicia pound our sense of security. Somewhere mid to late evening I remember Denny saying, "Well, there goes the fence." We had an eight foot perimeter privacy fence around our house which was no match for the eighty plus mile an hour winds bearing down in unpredictable gusts. Fortunately, the fence blew out into the street instead of back at the house and fell apart in sections. The next thing I heard from him was, "Now the cypress trees are down." I cried. The destruction was venturing closer and closer and for the first time, I worried for our safety inside the house. Although the rain was slashing at the window panes horizontally, there was no flooding, no leaks in the roof and no broken glass. I know we were very lucky.

Around 5 AM, the eye of Alicia passed over Houston and there was an eerie but all too brief quietness. The skies were still too dark to see the destruction and we were afraid to go outside knowing the winds would be kicking up again. It wasn't long before the storm rallied with the next assault of wind and rain. The back side of the storm was less intense and somehow, with the light of dawn emerging, the worst was over. As light crept into the sky we could see the palm tree at front of our house straining under the winds, fronds whipping to and fro. The fence and cypress trees, long felled created a scene of moving destruction in black and white. There were no colors, only shades of grey in the landscape.

Once the storm passed, we were on the phone to loved ones, checking in. Power was out but the phone lines still worked. I remember the late morning mugginess, the skies still grey but devoid of rain and wind, and D and I walking the streets just looking. We couldn't fathom the wrath this giant left behind as she pushed on through to the north, losing strength but dumping heavy rain on East Texas. The streets were littered in debris; downed tree limbs and large tree stumps. The clean-up took weeks and some people were without power for a week or more. We, the lucky ones, had our power on by day's end; a blessing in the heat of August in Texas.

These tropical storms are serious business. Our brush with Alicia was nothing compared to the destruction of Hurricane Katrina in 2005. But, what amazes me is how much detail I remember from this storm 25 years later. My thoughts and prayers are with all in the path of Ike today.