Tag Archives: Golden Triangle

Happy Trails, Part 37

Oh, the best-laid plans can go awry.

For example, we had intended to venture south and east later this year, when the weather cooled, and the Gulf of Mexico hurricane season had subsided.

We have a lot of friends in the Golden Triangle, where we lived from 1984 until 1995. We had plans to haul our RV south to our former hometown to catch up with many of them.

Oh, wait!

Something happened down yonder. Right? Of course!

Hurricane Harvey came through. The storm crashed ashore first in the Corpus Christi-Rockport region along the Coastal Bend. Then the storm waded back into the Gulf, picked up some more steam and returned to the Triangle as Tropical Storm Harvey.

It dumped a lot of rain. It set a continental United States record at more than 50 inches. 

Now I hear that the Texas Department of Transportation is going to embark on a monumental task. It must repair roads and highways damaged by the storm. According to the Texas Tribune:

Prolonged flooding can wash out bridges, knock down traffic signals and signs and cause asphalt to buckle. Last week, the federal government directed $25 million to the Texas Department of Transportation to help the agency begin repairing the region’s vast transportation system.

But that funding won’t last very long, said TxDOT Deputy Executive Director Marc Williams.

“The size and the duration of this storm is beyond anything we’ve ever experienced in this state,” he said.

When do we plan to return to the Golden Triangle? I don’t know. I can’t project when TxDOT will get all the highways fixed. I am not even aware at this moment whether any of the highways over which we might travel are affected.

We do want to get back. We want to see our friends. We intend to hug their necks and express gratitude and thanks that they’re all OK.

I am not one to trifle, though, with Mother Nature. Nor am I going to wish for TxDOT to speed up its infrastructure repair just to suit my wife and me. It’ll take time. We’ll be patient.

Church attendees dig deeply to help Harvey victims

I am going to presume for a moment that this scene played out in church sanctuaries all across Texas — and, indeed, the nation — earlier today.

We attended church this morning at First Presbyterian Church in downtown Amarillo, Texas. The senior pastor, the Rev. Howard Griffin, was presiding over a combined service; First Pres normally has three services each Sunday, but on this Labor Day weekend, the entire congregation gathered for a single service.

The gorgeous First Pres sanctuary was full.

The pastor announced that all the proceeds from this morning’s offering was going to aid a church — First Presbyterian Church of Houston — in its efforts to help the victims of that monstrous hurricane-turned-tropical storm that deluged the Gulf Coast region. The video we watched while sitting in our church pews was heart-wrenching; the devastation along the coast — from Corpus Christi to the Golden Triangle — takes one’s breath away.

Griffin said previous efforts to aid other disaster victims have brought hefty five-figure amounts when the plates get passed throughout the congregation. I am quite certain many of our fellow congregants dug a little deeper this morning to assist their fellow Texans in this time of desperation and despair.

I am also going to suggest that this act of generosity, compassion and godly spirit occurred all across this great nation in houses of worship of all faiths and all great religions.

That’s what we do as Americans. We offer our treasure to those in trouble.

I am one American who this morning was proud to play a small part in what I am certain was a gigantic act of compassion.

Meanwhile, our prayers continue to flow down yonder.

Even in abundance, water is a priceless commodity

My social media networks are telling me that the water is starting to come back ever so slowly down yonder in Beaumont, Texas.

The savage storm named Harvey deluged the Golden Triangle region so badly that Beaumont’s water treatment system was knocked out. Gone. Dead. No drinking water to be had.

Just a few days later, the system is coming back — slowly. I trust it’s also surely on its way back.

One of my friends reports his toilet tank is filling. Another of them posted this note on Facebook: Treat water like it is gold, because it is.

Boy, howdy! We know about that even this far northwest of the flood zone. We in the Texas Panhandle have been grappling with water conservation and preservation issues for about, oh, nearly forever.

It’s not that we have the abundance of water, but rather a lack of water.

My good friends in Beaumont and Houston, though, are getting yet another kind of water-conservation lesson. The Golden Triangle’s woes intensified many times when the water system collapsed under the 40-plus-inch deluge that Harvey delivered.

Those good folks aren’t anywhere close to being clear of the damage brought by Harvey. They’re inching their way toward a return to something approaching a normal life.

It’s going to take lots and lots of time to return to normal water usage — even as those valiant Texans look for ways to slosh their way through the water that surrounds them.

As one of my friends, the one with the toilet tank refilling, noted: Be frugal, Beaumont. Preserve this precious resource for everyone!

Meanwhile, many prayers continue to shower that stricken region.

Tragedy creates plenty of perspective

I’ve been spending the past few days trying to account for the status of some dear friends living in the Houston and Golden Triangle regions of the Texas Gulf Coast.

I can report that most of them are dry. They aren’t flooded. One friend’s home in Lumberton, just north of Beaumont, took about 5 feet of water. I don’t know where he and his family are staying at the moment.

Not all of my friends are accounted for, but I have faith they are still with us.

But one person with whom I worked in Beaumont offered a fascinating message to me that reminds me of how one is able to place their own suffering into its appropriate context.

She reports that she is “dry but sweaty.” She and her husband have no electricity in their suburban Beaumont home. They didn’t take any water, for which I’m certain they are grateful.

She also notes now “incredibly fortunate” she and her husband feel, given the level of suffering that so many thousands of their Golden Triangle neighbors are enduring from the storm that savaged that region.

My family is a good distance from what one could call Ground Zero of Hurricane Harvey’s wrath. One of our sons lives with his family just north of Dallas; another son lives in Amarillo, as do my wife and I, as well as my mother-in-law. We’re all watching this tragedy unfold from some distance.

I wonder, still, how I might cope with no way to cool myself in the oppressive heat and humidity that is normal for the Golden Triangle this time of year. We know about it well. We lived there for nearly 11 years.

I know, though, that my friend’s faith is strong. So is her resolve. Moreover, she also understands that what she is enduring pales in comparison to the heartache that has gripped so many thousands of others just down her street, around the corner.

Tragedy has this way of reminding us not just of what we have lost, but also of what we retain.

I’m continuing to pray for our friends.

Watch out for the fire ants, man!

One of the more underreported aspects of Hurricane/Tropical Storm Harvey needs some attention. So I’ll offer a bit of it right here.

The raging storm water that has inundated communities from Houston to the Golden Triangle has produced another hazard: fire ants!

We moved from the Golden Triangle in January 1995 and we were thankful for many aspects of our new home in the Texas Panhandle; one of them was the absence of fire ants.

In heavy rain the ants come out of the ground and congregate in massive clusters on the surface of the water. They climb aboard any living creature who happens to slosh and slog their way through them. Then they bite, and they keep biting!

Fire ant bites produce welts almost immediately on one’s skin. The welts fill with pus. The bugs are nasty in the extreme.

Moreover, when the water recedes, people’s lawns are going to sprout fire ant mounts. My best advice? Boil plenty of water and add some ammonia to it. Pour it right onto the mounds. It kills ’em dead. Immediately.

Oh, and you folks at People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals — the nimrods who actually complained when President Obama once swatted a fly on national TV? Keep your traps shut on this one.

Fire ants do serious harm to pets and people.

I haven’t even mentioned — until this very moment — the gators and the venomous snakes one might encounter.

So help me, I will feel every bit of your pain as you cope with this consequence of Harvey, not to mention all the other suffering that will endure long after the water recedes.

Nature’s awesome power shows our human frailty

The ongoing drama playing out along the Texas Gulf Coast reminds me of what we all know already.

It is that no matter how we seek to control Mother Nature, she ain’t going to be controlled. Period. No way, not no how.

Beaumont utility officials built those detention ponds designed to catch rainwater runoff. The rain came as a result of Tropical Storm — formerly known as Hurricane — Harvey. Except that it came in volumes that far exceeded the detention ponds’ capacity. Houston got inundated first. And before that, Rockport and Corpus Christi felt the rage of storm surge and heavy, killer wind.

The storm has trudged on. It is doing damage now in Louisiana and I understand that Memphis, Tenn., sitting on the east bank of the Mighty Mississippi, if facing potential trouble.

No matter, though, how frail we humans appear to be as we face Nature’s awesome power we do have this capacity to rally and to band together to help our neighbors. My heart swells with pride as I watch first responders answer the call. It swells even more when I watch neighbors helping neighbors, offering valuable assistance to those first responders.

I watch Navy and Coast Guard pilots getting hugs and heartfelt expressions of gratitude from victims they have rescued from rooftops, attics and porches.

I’ve even watched media representatives — yes, those alleged “enemies of the people” — sloshing through muddy water to pull people and their pets out of harm’s way.

We humans cannot control Mother Nature’s awesome force. We try to build levees, dams, detention ponds. We erect sandbag barriers and seawalls along the beach. We hope for the best when Nature unleashes her fury, but also always must expect the worst.

When this storm arrived with its fury and rage, we got the worst — by God!

As the water recedes ever so slowly, though, we are delivering our best. It cannot prevent the destruction, but our best efforts do manage to lift our hearts.

That is no small feat.

This is how Texans respond

Take a good look at this picture.

It was taken in front of a building being used to shelter victims of Hurricane/Tropical Storm Harvey’s devastation.

Are the folks lined up around the building checking in as residents? Are they looking for help? Oh, no. They are lining up to volunteer to assist those in dire need.

I am in no mood to minimize the misery that Harvey is continuing to rain down on the Texas Gulf Coast from the Coastal Bend to the Golden Triangle. But there’s something positive to say about the reaction of Texans who are offering their strong backs and huge hearts for their stricken neighbors.

Gov. Greg Abbott tweeted this picture and wrote: “Look who’s waiting in line in Houston. This is how you get things done in Harris County.”

Have you seen the pictures of drivers in pickup trucks hauling watercraft en route to the Golden Triangle? Flat-bottom boats, speed boats, Jet Skis, kayaks, canoes. Boats of all kinds were being towed along U.S. Highway 90 between Liberty and Beaumont. Those folks were answering the call as well.

Indeed, that’s how you “get things done” in Texas.

It warms my heart, if only for as long as my attention is diverted from the heartbreak that’s still occurring throughout the community my family and I use to call home.

The people’s response to this epic, tragic event makes me proud to live in Texas.

Harvey now hits where it hurts

Harvey has stormed ashore again. This time, the storm has savaged my old haunts, my digs. It is hurting more of my friends.

The tropical storm is hitting me where it hurts — in a visceral sort of way.

I don’t know what to do. I might start by sending money to relief agencies that are hard at work trying to lend aid, comfort and safety to the residents of the Golden Triangle.

A career opportunity lured me to the Triangle in the spring of 1984. I spent nearly 11 years working for the Beaumont Enterprise. My family came a few months after I assumed my post. We carved out a good life in a community that seemed to flourish in a universe parallel to the one we left in suburban Portland, Ore.

We made friends for life. They are former colleagues of mine who remain close to my heart. They’re hurting now.

I’ve heard conflicting reports of Beaumont being totally “under water.” The same for Port Arthur, about 20 or so miles south on U.S. Highway 69. Orange — the third city in the Golden Triangle — sits along the Sabine River and it, too, is fending off Harvey’s savagery.

We left a lovely home in Beaumont in January 1995. I got word today from one of my friends — whose home has filled with about 5 feet of water in suburban Lumberton — that my old neighborhood in north Beaumont is likely in “rough shape.” He doesn’t know that with absolute certainty, given that the flood water has limited his mobility. I’ll accept his best guess that our former house is likely inundated.

Dammit, anyway!

The president came to Texas to give his support and to pledge the federal government’s commitment to repairing the devastation brought to our state from the Gulf of Mexico. Gov. Greg Abbott has mobilized the Texas National Guard — something on the order of 12,000 troops — and deployed them to assist local first responders.

The stories I’m seeing on TV and reading on the wires are heartbreaking in the extreme.

It was heartbreaking to see the coverage from Corpus Christi, Rockport, Port Lavaca, Aransas Pass and Port Aransas. We have some friends along the Coastal Bend, too, and my heart and prayers go to them.

Ditto for what we saw in Houston, where we have more friends and former colleagues. I spoke with one of them before Harvey delivered its heaviest blow; he talked of moving into the second floor of their home. Then the flood came. I called him back, but I haven’t gotten a response. I pray for the safety of this wonderful family. We have other friends scattered throughout greater Houston who are coping and we worry about them, too.

The Golden Triangle’s suffering is a bit different for us. We know the territory well. We know our way around Beaumont. It shatters my heart to see the damage being done — and to see the grief etched on the faces of the storm’s victims.

Social media have enabled us to keep tabs on many of our friends. But not all of them. I am awaiting news that they’re all OK.

I’m on the verge of shedding tears.

Setting the record straight on Harvey commentary

It turns out some social media friends and acquaintances have been bickering among themselves over the nature of this blog’s commentary on Hurricane/Tropical Storm Harvey.

Some of my acquaintances have accused this blog of being overly negative toward Donald Trump. Others have said that’s not so.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have attached a link to all the posts I’ve put out there about Harvey.

https://highplainsblogger.com/?s=Hurricane+Harvey

It’s all right there in the link right above this sentence.

I would like you to take a look at it.

This story has many diverse facets. We have the human suffering; there’s the political story relating to government’s response to it; we can discuss the quality of the first response; we can examine whether the cities and the state were sufficiently prepared; we can talk about the federal government’s role.

High Plains Blogger hasn’t yet touched all of those elements.

In my own defense — and I’m allowed to defend myself, correct? — I haven’t been totally negative, snarky or “bitter” (as one critic keeps reminding others) about certain elements of this on-going tragedy.

My family and I have a bit of skin in this game. We used to live in Beaumont. We all have friends who are suffering. We love them dearly and we wish them all the very best. We also wish we could pick everything up and go there to lend a hand — but the state highway department is telling us way up yonder to “avoid travel to the Texas coast.”

Just want to set the record straight. So there. I’ve done it.

Harvey getting set to deliver a second sucker punch

Here it comes … again!

Hurricane Harvey has been “downgraded” to a tropical storm. The beast delivered its havoc to Houston and is still punishing the nation’s fourth-largest city.

Then it decided to back up, move out over the Gulf of Mexico and pick up some more moisture from the overheated body of water. Now the storm is coming back ashore. Where it makes landfall again remains mostly a guess. It’ll be somewhere east of Houston. Possibly near Beaumont, where my family and I lived for nearly 11 years before moving to higher ground in the Texas Panhandle.

What are we to glean from this mayhem, this madness, the utter terror of our friends, neighbors and loved ones having to endure this wrath?

I am going to maintain faith that our fellow Texans are going to show the kind of strength and resolve they usually exhibit in times of terrible distress.

When the acclaimed PBS series on the Dust Bowl aired a couple of years ago, I learned a lot about the steel that runs up the spines of Texas Panhandle residents who survived that terrible time. The series, titled “The Dust Bowl,” recounted the horror that those survivors felt as they watched the ground beneath them blow away. They were children then. Now, quite obviously, they are much older — but their recollections were vivid and so very moving.

Through it all many of them stayed. They fought through the disaster. They rebuilt their lives.

Those earlier Texans have produced generations just like them today and those among us in real time in this moment are enduring another tragedy, brought by another form of nature’s rage.

The storm named Harvey is coming back in. It’s going to do more damage. That’s the terrible news. There can be no “blessing” to derive from this.

However, I anticipate that even after Harvey finishes its terrible task that our Gulf Coast brethren will find a way to rebuild their shattered lives.

God bless them all.