Tag Archives: Hurricane Harvey

Let’s cut Mayor Turner some slack, eh?

Imagine being in Sylvester Turner’s shoes … for just a moment or two.

You are the mayor of Houston, the fourth-largest American city. A killer storm is bearing down on you and your constituents, not to mention millions of other residents living nearby.

Do you order a mass evacuation, remembering what happened the last time a mayor issued such a call in your city? Or do you hope the storm might miss your city and then hope your city’s emergency response teams can react accordingly?

Mayor Turner has been getting a lot of grief of late from those who believe he should have shooed residents out of his city in the path of Hurricane Harvey.

I’m trying to give the mayor the benefit of the doubt.

Houston resident Kam Franklin, writing in Texas Monthly, has explained why she believes the mayor made the right call.

Read her article here.

Franklin recalls heading north on jammed-up freeways in 2005 as Hurricane Rita was drawing a bead on Houston. Rita was the second act in that terrible Gulf Coast twin-bill drama that featured the tragedy and devastation brought by Hurricane Katrina to the greater New Orleans area a month earlier.

The evacuation order didn’t go well as residents sought to flee Rita’s wrath. Franklin tells a story of horrific traffic jams (see the picture attached to this post) that kept people on highways for many more hours than was necessary.

She has no tolerance for those who live far from Houston but who think they know how to respond in the face of pending disaster.

As Franklin declares: “It’s very easy to judge people who are in a situation you’ve never been in. Right now isn’t the time to argue over who said what and when, because we’re still in the middle of this. Unless you’re here trying to help people, I don’t think you should be preaching about it. I’m know I’m going to try to help the best I can.”

When, oh when will the water recede … and to where?

I’m having what I guess you could call a 9/11 Moment as I watch the heartache associated with the cataclysmic flooding throughout Southeast Texas.

Over the years since 9/11 it has become harder for me to watch the Twin Towers collapse. Or to watch the jetliners fly into them.

It’s taken a fraction of the time for me to shudder at the sight of the flooding in Houston and in Beaumont. You see, I have this connection with that part of the world.

My family and I moved to Beaumont in 1984. I had taken a job as an editorial writer at the Beaumont Enterprise and my boss at the time me I would be sitting “in the catbird seat” in the midst of a great “news town.” He was right.

We stayed there for nearly 11 years. My sons graduated from high school and went off to college before my wife and I pulled up stakes and left Beaumont for Amarillo in early 1995.

I learned a couple of things about the Texas Gulf Coast rather quickly.

One is that it rains a lot there. We occasionally would get about 6 or 7 inches of rain in the span of about, oh, an hour. It would produce local flooding. Storm ditches would fill up and the water would run into ponds built for the purpose of holding rain water.

I also learned that the water table along the Gulf Coast is not far at all below Earth’s surface. I don’t know the precise measurement, but I became aware that it takes virtually no time at all for water to fill the spongy, goopy soil throughout the region.

All that is worth mentioning as we watch the horror that continues to play out in Houston and in the Golden Triangle today. Those folks are receiving epic amounts of water. Fifty inches are expected to fall on the region by the middle of the week.

I look at the video on TV and wonder: Where in the world is that water going to go? How long will it take to recede? How does that much rain water recede in a region that (a) sits only about 30 feet above sea level and (b) is as flat as it can possibly get? The Gulf of Mexico only is about 20 miles south of Beaumont; I believe Houston is a little farther inland, but not much.

The misery that is unfolding down yonder is far from over … and it is shattering my heart in a way it hasn’t been broken since 9/11.

POTUS agrees to stay out of the way

There’s word of a good decision coming out of the White House as Donald Trump prepares to see first hand the destruction brought to Texas by Hurricane Harvey.

It is that the president will forgo a visit to Houston. Instead, he plans to tour devastated areas in the Corpus Christi-Rockport area, where the storm has exited — but which received a huge dose of severe wind damage from Harvey as the storm blasted ashore this past week.

I heard Houston Police Chief Art Acevedo answer a question from National Public Radio about the timing of Trump’s visit to the area. He spoke calmly and with reason. “He’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t,” Chief Acevedo said of the president’s planned visit. He noted that presidents travel with a huge logistical load and an entourage commensurate with the requirements of the head of state.

Going to Houston while residents and first responders in the nation’s fourth-largest city are still battling catastrophic flooding just isn’t in the cards for the president. So, he’s planning to take a look at where the storm has done its damaged and has moved on.

That’s a very good call.

Storm brings misery — and prompts the best in humanity

Harvey is hanging around. The storm won’t dissipate. It won’t fizzle out and become a memory.

The one-time hurricane that is still ravaging the Texas Gulf Coast appears to be backing up over the Gulf of Mexico, where it is expected to recharge and bring even more misery to the battered residents of Southeast Texas.

What on God’s Earth do we do about this? Well, humanity is left to do what it can to help those who are stricken. It’s the human thing to do.

There’s no good news to be gleaned from this event. I won’t pretend to gloss over any single bit of the tragedy that has befallen that region. My heart, though, is lifted — if only just a tiny bit — by news of the aid that is pouring in from neighboring communities. It is arriving to assist storm victims with transportation, shelter, food, money — even good wishes and prayer.

It’s what we do for those who are caught by the storm’s wrath.

Here we are, roughly 700 miles north-northwest of the battered region. My own feeling of helplessness remains, although we do have a certain sense of empathy for the friends we left behind when we departed Beaumont for the High Plains in January 1995.

I dare not pretend to understand, though, the extent of the misery from which they are suffering. I am left to sit in my safe haven and salute those who are able to assist in any way they are able.

It’s what their sense of humanity and compassion compels them to do. They are answering the call.

God bless you all.

Glad you’re coming, Mr. President, but please …

I’ll be brief with this blog post.

I already have applauded Donald Trump for agreeing to visit the ravaged regions of Texas that are still battling the aftermath of Hurricane — and now Tropical Storm — Harvey.

Allow me this request of the president.

When you come, Mr. President, please refrain from calling attention to yourself. Please do not remind us that you’re here and that you’re just a great guy for taking time away from your job in Washington to lend aid, comfort and support for the first responders and the victims; it’s part of your job. Do not say a word about anything other than the suffering you might get a chance to witness.

This is part of the gig you signed up for, Mr. President. It’s what Americans have come to expect of the men who hold the nation’s highest and most exalted office.

Treat this visit with the seriousness it deserves and refrain from slapping yourself on the back. 

Does the sound of rain now frighten our friends?

I cannot stop thinking about something a former colleague of mine once told me about how an extreme weather event changed his view of what used to comfort him.

We were working in Beaumont, Texas, together at the time. He was an editor at the Beaumont Enterprise, where I worked as editor of the opinion pages.

I think of him now as we watch the horror continuing to unfold in the Golden Triangle and in nearby Houston.

My friend lived at the time in a suburban Beaumont community near Pine Island Bayou. The Golden Triangle is known to get a lot of rain in a major hurry. One such event occurred. My friend, his wife and their two small sons got caught in the rain.

The bayou spilled over. Roughly two feet of water poured into my friend’s home. They had to evacuate. I cannot recall nearly three decades later where they ended up, or even how long they were displaced from their home.

The water eventually receded. They repaired the damage. They moved back in.

“You know there once was a time,” my friend said — and yes, I am paraphrasing — “when the sound of rain would lull me to sleep. These days, after what just happened to us, the sound of rain now scares me half to death.”

It’s impossible for me to believe that millions of Texans who are battling the devastation brought by Hurricane Harvey aren’t now frightened for life at that very sound.

My heart breaks for them.

I lost touch with my friend many years ago as we went our separate ways. I just hope by now he’s gotten over his fear of rainfall.

Hating the feeling of utter helplessness

You know the feeling, I’m sure.

Mother Nature levels her immense power onto a region of this great country and you are left only to wish the very best for those who are being affected.

I won’t suggest that “All I can do is pray.” A clergy friend of mine has reminded us many times over the years that “Prayer isn’t the least we can do; it’s the most we can do.”

So we are left to pray and hope for the very best for those being devastated by Hurricane Harvey’s unthinkable rage.

Social media have offered a pretty good device for those in harm’s way to tell the rest of us that they’re safe and sound. My Facebook news feed is full of such assurances and for that I am grateful on behalf of our many friends throughout the Houston and Golden Triangle areas of Southeast Texas.

Here we sit, though, a good distance away from the havoc. We’re perched way up yonder on the Caprock, high and dry and enjoying the sunshine at nearly 3,700 feet above sea level. The Texas Department of Transportation is advising motorists to avoid travel to the Gulf Coast. If only we could transport ourselves into the storm to lend a hand to the friends we have retained many years after leaving Beaumont for a new life in Amarillo.

And, no, I don’t intend to ignore the misery that has befallen all the good folks who are coping with the storm’s wrath.

So … what is there to do? Except pray.

I can do that. However, it does nothing to assuage my feeling of helplessness.

Trump takes wise course, plans to stay out of the way

I will be going to Texas as soon as that trip can be made without causing disruption. The focus must be life and safety.

With that statement, the president of the United States — delivered via Twitter — has demonstrated finally an awareness of the awesome public relations power of his office.

Donald Trump, along with the rest of the pertinent federal government agencies, is standing at the ready to deliver assistance to the battered regions of Texas, which is suffering the ravages of Hurricane Harvey.

The deluge that’s inundating Houston — and only God Almighty knows where the storm is heading — has caused untold misery, heartache and grief.

I’m glad to know the president will tour the pummeled areas of South and Southeast Texas. As he noted in his tweet, a presidential visit does carry some risk. Presidents intend to do good when they show up. Their entourage, though, can create tremendous logistical problems for local authorities struggling to reassemble the lives of stricken victims.

Texas Gov. Greg Abbott says the storm is unpredictable in its path. There’s little certainty in trying to track its journey. To that end, the president’s emergency management response team needs to keep all eyes on the board in trying to determine when — and where — the president should go to demonstrate he has the backs of Americans in deep trouble.

Be smart about it, Mr. President. Whatever you do, sir, listen to the advice you’re getting from your storm-watch team.

This storm hits close to the heart

Watching the ongoing drama down yonder on the Texas Gulf Coast leaves me with a dizzying mix of emotions.

* My family and I moved to Texas in 1984 and settled in Beaumont, the heart of the Golden Triangle. Hurricanes blow through the region.

Indeed, we endured a couple of major storms during our nearly 11 years on the Gulf Coast. One of them was Hurricane Bonnie, which wasn’t nearly as strong as Hurricane Harvey, but it did hit Beaumont directly; the other was Tropical Storm Allison, which has gotten some discussion from the weather experts reporting on the devastation being brought by Hurricane Harvey.

Allison didn’t reach hurricane status. It did, however, bring  a lot of rain in June 1989. It slogged over Beaumont on its way north; then it decided to back up and do it some more.

Hurricane Harvey, according to some of the TV weather talkers, is looking a bit like Allison as it meanders ever so slowly across the Gulf Coast region.

Harvey brings forth another bit of familiarity for yours truly.

* A couple of years ago, my wife and I pulled our fifth wheel south to Beaumont for a few days; then we traveled southwest toward Corpus Christi. We spent a few more nights at Goose Island State Park, in Rockport — which is where Hurricane Harvey made landfall late Friday.

I shudder to think what Goose Island SP looks like at this moment as Harvey continues to march its way to who knows where.

Local  emergency management officials report at least one fatality in Rockport. Quite clearly, all of our hearts break for lives lost.

* And at yet another level, I caught up early this afternoon with a good friend who lives in Houston with his wife and their two young sons. As we spoke over the phone, our friends were getting pummeled by the deluge brought by Harvey.

He joked about the forecast of as much as 20 to 30 inches of rain. “If it rains like that we’re going to flood,” he said. “Hey, we’ve got a two-story house,” he said with the calmness I would expect from him.

* And that brings to mind a final thought: Is it my imagination, or do those affected most calmly by nature’s wrath seem the calmest of anyone? The media have been reporting with an urgency that at times seems to border on hysteria about Hurricane Harvey’s arrival on land and the destruction it’s bringing. I don’t doubt that the storm will do a lot of damage.

My friend said simply this: “I have less fear of the rain than I do of the wind.” He — and I presume his family as well — are ready for whatever comes.

Still, we are going to continue to worry about all of our friends — and everyone else as well — along the coast.

Hurricane Harvey: the great equalizer

Not too many days ago, the nation rallied and cheered a total solar eclipse that marched the land from sea to shining sea.

We were thrilled and agog at celestial splendor that played out far above us. For the better part of the day, we set aside our political divisions, our angst, our worry and our anger.

That event passed and we returned in short order to our worldly troubles.

Then we had our attention riveted once again to another natural act. Hurricane Harvey has grabbed us all by the throat to remind us yet again that nature’s wrath and rage dwarf anything we can muster up.

The Category 4 storm is continuing to blast South, Southeast and Central Texas. It crashed ashore overnight and it’s going to continuing bringing extreme havoc, misery and more than likely tragedy.

My wife, sons and I used to live on the Texas coast. As I watch the news and try to catch up with events overnight, I keep thinking of — and praying for — our many friends who live along the coast from Beaumont, Houston and down along the Coastal Bend region.

My mind has been yanked away from the political troubles that have occupied me. Indeed, we join our fellow Americans in sending good wishes to our fellow travelers who must endure this destruction this monster storm is delivering.

Think, too, of the extraordinary piece of advice being offered by Texas emergency management officials, who ask folks in the path of the storm to write their Social Security numbers on their arms, just in case.

Mother Nature has this ability to equalize everything. It can “eclipse” our Earthly woes, as we learned just the other day. Those of us who aren’t battered directly by Nature’s wrath are drawn together in a sense of national worry and concern for our fellow Americans.

The rest of it all can wait for Hurricane Harvey to die.