Rolling Down the River (conclusion)

Immediately we all noticed the same thing, the weather. After the torrential downpour of Ike, what was left was blue skies, low humidity and perfect fall weather. We don’t have fall in Houston. I had a client who used to call September “the bitchy season” due to the extreme heat, and humidity. September is my least favorite month of living in the south. Up north where I was raised, September began the slow cooling of the earth, the changing of the leaves, a chance at Indian summer, very temperate climate changes. In Houston, September was the extra month of summer’s endless heat, scorched earth, profuse sweating and humidity that would curl your toes let alone your hair. It seemed as though Ike had swept all our unfavorable weather away. The kids and I cleaned the yard as Mike had to head back t work. Though none of us had power, he was slated to work in a bunker provided for by his company. It turned out the airline waited for no storm. Downtown where the offices normally were, windows were busted out, glass covering the streets, the power remained out and the city had just began to assess the damage as we all had started doing. Our mayor must not have slept the entire we were going through this. He had constant press conferences at all times of day and night. At one point just before the storm he had gone out to get people who didn’t speak English to evacuate their apartment building. The thing that really impressed me was how he didn’t leave himself. He stayed and took of his people. He had also just a few years earlier got buses together for the victims of Katrina, sending them over to New Orleans to gather everyone he could to put them in a safe shelter away from the chaos. Our mayor, Bill White did an outstanding job, staying present with the people of Houston, organizing everything down to the last detail. He had help with Judge Ed Emmett, as they together got us through. If not for their constant leadership, I fear we too, would have been trapped in chaos. When FEMA showed up with PODs (points of distribution trailers) they insisted they maintain control over where and when things got done. The last thing we needed was to have out-of-towners take over an already in progress operation. We trusted our mayor and Judge Emmett, we did not trust many others.
We knew we would be without power for a few days, but none of us knew the extent of the damage, so there was no way for us to predict the amount of days we would be isolated from the rest of the world. The news did a single day of real coverage, but the very next day the economic crisis happened, so we were literally ‘yesterday’s news’, leaving us to fend for ourselves. We became a blurb on the national news, with little or no attention, leaving most of the days broadcasts for the economy. I won’t lie, I was more than a little pissed about it. There we were without power, roads were blocked from getting help immediately and no one out in the world seemed to have any idea just how bad it was because no one was covering the story except our local news people. We had in so many ways been forgotten. In spite of this, the people of Texas got very busy very fast, finding shut-ins who needed food and water, carrying it on personal trucks, rescues were done daily by ordinary citizens, as they gathered what supplies were left and what help they could find out on the street. We weren’t waiting on anybody; we knew what we had to do.
Since the weather was conducive for all the work, we all helped each other dig out of the mess left behind by Ike. Like I said, our area was not damaged extensively, but other areas in our town were. Downtown was the first to get power, so when Mike went to work he got gas and anything we might need from the few places that were open. The first week without power we used a camp stove and an open fire to cook on. Tom and I had cleared large tree branches that outweighed both of us, raked up the rest and found ourselves somewhat bored as we waited to go back out in tot the world. There it was the isolation I spoke of earlier. Not delivery trucks could get in, no places were open to buy anything from and no power meant no refrigeration, no anything with a plug. I had frozen great blocks of ice and used our refrigerator as an old fashioned ice box. We listened to the radio and played cards during the daylight hours. Tom and I dug a fire pit for the evenings, so we could sit outside and pretend we were camping. I told my mom our house was the best vacation cabin I had ever had. There was a story that flew through town of the two boys who armed with four wheelers and chainsaws had cleared our main road. They were hailed as heroes by all of us. They did what was necessary without having anybody else out to help. They are the future of this country. I feel pretty confident we are in good hands.
We had a week’s worth of food in our “ice box”. We had canned food, but try living on canned food for any length of time. Really, it’s just gross. We were running out of milk, bread and meat. Our perishables were perishing. Days after the hurricane we trekked out to the store to see what was happening. Freezers stood empty, refrigerators were empty as well, and there were only a couple of cash registers that worked on generator power. The staff did their best trying to help those who foraging for food, but without power or deliveries they were in the same predicament we were. I only drove to the store and back since the gas stations were closed as well. The few stations that got to open on generators had lines for miles, and people waited for hours just for the opportunity to try and get a few gallons of gas. I stayed very close to home. We walked around our neighborhood seeing what still remained intact. I wouldn’t go driving out to the areas in our town hardest by the hurricane. It seemed cruel to gawk at those less fortunate. This was not a time to be voyeuristic. If there was help needed, we helped, otherwise we stayed put out the way so others could do what was necessary.
We were days into our electricity exile when Jerry had called to see how we were faring. The truth was we were just fine. I had figured out how make pizza on the grill, we had camp fires every night, and Mike was able to get back and forth to his job. We were running out of food, but I thought surely the power would be back on in no time, since it had already been a week. Others were getting power, so I was certain we would be getting our very soon. As I held the phone to my ear talking to my friend, I saw Tom build our nightly campfire. The fire pit had been lined on the outside with river rock. He had ht embers burning brightly when all of a sudden I hear d yelling and Michael was running for the hose. I threw the phone down and ran to the kids. Some of the river rock had slipped in the fire pit and had begun exploding sending hot embers at the heads of my kids. Loud popping like the sound of a gun being discharges came from the pit as red hot river rock split, exploded and flew into the air. I really didn’t know what was going on. Mike got the hose and quickly extinguished the fire. I got back on the phone and told Jerry what had just happened. “Geeze, Kel, you can’t have river rock by a fire, it’s like having petrified popcorn!” Everyone was safe and no one got hurt. We all laughed, spitting and puttering about how the rocks were flying into the air like missiles. Tom had a hard hat he went and put on his head, wearing it every time we had a fire after that.
Day 7- I asked if Mike knew if any of our friends had gotten the power back on. “Yeah, Lo does I think.” “We need to ask if she can freeze some blocks for us so the food in the fridge doesn’t spoil. I am all out of ice.” Our friend, Lo, was more than happy to do it and Mike could stop by after work. The stores still didn’t have milk, meat or bread.
Day 8- With our food situation growing more and direr, and having lived without power for over a week, the kids and I were starting to feel desperate, separate and alone. Mike and I decided to go looking for a generator when there was rumor some had been shipped in. We went on the hunt and found a line at the home improvement store. I sat in line as Mike went back to the car to go out further and see what he could find. I sat there for about an hour talking to other folks who had weathered the storm. We had exchanged stories about eh night Ike hit, the tragedies we had heard about, and always asked if anybody needed anything. Mike drove up and told me to get in, but not before telling the group he had found generators for reasonable prices at another place. We didn’t use our generator that night because there was no gas to be found, but mike said he knew of a gas station downtown he could get gas from the next day.
Day 9- Mike brought home gas in the afternoon for the generator. We parked it far from the house and started it up. With a loud rumble it started right up and ran until bedtime. We knew we could only run it for twelve hours since gasoline prices had raised steeply due to the hurricane. We watched television for the first time in days. I watched the national news and it was in that moment I knew we were on our own. With the economic meltdown, no one paid any attention to us. My heart sank. I was not looking for pity, but I knew our story would not get told. Being a story teller by nature, my want is that the heroes, the victims, the isolation, despair and ultimately the rising of the people out of the debris would be heard beyond our immediate area. I knew, though, that was not going to happen and we would have to be happy with what we knew for ourselves.
Day 10- Storied of impatience started to grow. People were getting frustrated, especially about the gas situation. The local news announced who had gas and how much they had, but tempers were starting to flare. Generators needed gas in order to run and even though the weather was decent and no air conditioning was required, many of us had all electric appliances that were looking more like museum pieces than useful equipment. There was an altercation at one gas station where a man began to lose it and got shot by a policeman. Police were stationed at all the gas stations due to the rationing of fuel. Every day Mike went to work, buying gas down town and dragging it all the way back home so we could have some sense of normalcy, but we were all getting worn down. The stores were empty that day too. It felt as though we might never feel like we were normal again. The isolation was shrouding us and our town more and more. We were all storm weary, feeling alone, abandoned, not by Texans but certainly by everyone else.
Day 11- With the comfort of having a refrigerator, I trekked back out to the store to see if a truck had made it through. Tom went with me to keep me company and find his way out the house. We saw the refrigeration units were plugged in. The freezers were up and running. We ran back to the store to the bread isle first. There was bread! Grabbing two loaves we ran to the milk fridge. There was milk! There was meat and fresh produce and a newly stocked dairy case. Tom and hugged and danced right in the center of the isle. Laughing and singing made up songs about milk bread and meat we skipped to the front of the store. “Mom”, Tom said breathless from our ridiculous behavior, “It really is going to be O.K. I promise.” Tears filled my eyes as my son reassured me this time. Those were the exact words I had said to him after his father passed away. It was the phrase I had used over and over to let them know we would survive.
Day 12-We had heard rumors, because that is all the news that existed for us that our electricity might come on. Others had full power now and we were still waiting. Some had power for over a week, but our power station was in the back so we assumed we would probably be last. Many of the neighbors had left after not having power for a few days. In the beginning we had been warned that it would take some time, so many people left to wait it out in comfort. All I could think was, “Thank God I know how to camp!” My ability to camp and improvise turned what could have been an awful situation into a bearable one, minus the exploding rocks, that is. It was Tom’s birthday and there were no presents, no birthday cake, just parents and a sister who really loved him. I promised I would make it up to him. Rita had been around his birthday too, so he said, “It’s OK, Mom. I am just hoping to go back to my room and sleep tonight. Getting electricity would be the best present ever!” We waited hopeful all day, but nothing happened. The sky was getting dark and we had almost given up for the day when suddenly the lights came on! We ran around the house to check if it was a fluke. We danced in the living room yelling, “We have lights!” Tom ran to his room and opened the window yelling to anyone who could hear him, “We have electricity!” He came back down and began packing up his bedding and head back up stairs when he looked over his shoulder, “Best birthday ever!”
It took years for all of us to get completely back to normal. People are still waiting as I write this to get money they are due from their insurance companies to fix their houses. A friend of ours just got his new roof.
Ike really was a bastard; I see why Tina took off and left him.