A city, broken but not finished
So I know I rarely (if ever) update this thing, but sometimes life calls for it.
I've been particularly hard-hit by the recent events in the Gulf Coast, first Gustav, then Ike (as if one weren't enough, right?). One near-miss and a bulls-eye. Fortunately, thank the Lord, no one I know was hurt. My mom happens to live above the floodplain (by literally a block), and my dad's house is just...hearty, I guess, even though he lives in an evacuation zone. The worst that happened to us was a few downed trees and a smashed windshield, which is truly a blessing. I wish I could say the same for the rest of the area. The devastation on Galveston is unspeakable. This is the worst storm there since 1900 (THE storm), and from the pictures, it's a ghost town. It's so hard to watch the places where I grew up suffer like this, to see images of familiar landmarks torn to shreds. Speaking as a 5th generation Houstonian (at least) on both sides, these people are my blood. It hurts to see them hurt, and it hurts even more to have to be so far away while it's happening.
Sitting idly by while the storm hit Friday at midnight was hard enough; watching the aftermath is even worse, like being punched in the gut. People's entire lives are in pieces. My family is still without power, now almost a week later. Downtown Houston has reluctantly opened for business (as if THAT'S going to make a difference, what with recent goings-on in finance), but most of the skyscrapers are missing their windows, the sidewalks a minefield of shattered glass. My mom still can't go to work because the roof of her office is gone. We're only starting to see the beginning of the economic repercussions, and they're already predicting $8-18 billion in loss and damages. The hardest hit areas, like Bolivar Peninsula, are already poorer communities, and the storm has taken literally everything they have.
Here are some images, some from the paper, some from my dad, that especially resonated for me. Click for a larger version.
Crystal Beach, on Bolivar Peninsula, before (above) and after (below) Ike. This one hits particularly hard. Since I was a kid, this was where we always came to the beach. I have so many happy memories here, most recently a week I spent with my family here only a month ago. Bolivar is one of the places that really is "home" for me.
Another of Bolivar.
The Balinese Room, over the ocean at Galveston. During Prohibition, it was an illegal gambling house. The floors had secret levers in them, so that when the feds would come to investigate, they could just drop the gambling tables into the Gulf. Kind of the most badass place in Galveston, and now it's a pile of rubble.
A shipping warehouse in Houston. Those bays are as high as an 18-wheeler, and completely full of water.
J.P. Morgan Chase Tower, the tallest building in Texas, most of its windows shattered.
My dad's driveway, his smashed truck, and what used to be one of our trees.
Life is slowly returning to what might pass for normal, but it's a long process. Evacuees aren't even allowed to go back to Galveston yet to take stock of the losses. Only a fourth of the city has power at this point. Tap water still has to be boiled to be used. There's still has a curfew out from 9 PM - 6 AM in some areas. We're incredibly thankful for the relatively low death toll. The city itself can be rebuilt. Efforts before and after the storm showed the real strength of our people. Houston will return, stronger than ever.
ETA: This is everything you need to know: No Place Like Home
I've been particularly hard-hit by the recent events in the Gulf Coast, first Gustav, then Ike (as if one weren't enough, right?). One near-miss and a bulls-eye. Fortunately, thank the Lord, no one I know was hurt. My mom happens to live above the floodplain (by literally a block), and my dad's house is just...hearty, I guess, even though he lives in an evacuation zone. The worst that happened to us was a few downed trees and a smashed windshield, which is truly a blessing. I wish I could say the same for the rest of the area. The devastation on Galveston is unspeakable. This is the worst storm there since 1900 (THE storm), and from the pictures, it's a ghost town. It's so hard to watch the places where I grew up suffer like this, to see images of familiar landmarks torn to shreds. Speaking as a 5th generation Houstonian (at least) on both sides, these people are my blood. It hurts to see them hurt, and it hurts even more to have to be so far away while it's happening.
Sitting idly by while the storm hit Friday at midnight was hard enough; watching the aftermath is even worse, like being punched in the gut. People's entire lives are in pieces. My family is still without power, now almost a week later. Downtown Houston has reluctantly opened for business (as if THAT'S going to make a difference, what with recent goings-on in finance), but most of the skyscrapers are missing their windows, the sidewalks a minefield of shattered glass. My mom still can't go to work because the roof of her office is gone. We're only starting to see the beginning of the economic repercussions, and they're already predicting $8-18 billion in loss and damages. The hardest hit areas, like Bolivar Peninsula, are already poorer communities, and the storm has taken literally everything they have.
Here are some images, some from the paper, some from my dad, that especially resonated for me. Click for a larger version.
Crystal Beach, on Bolivar Peninsula, before (above) and after (below) Ike. This one hits particularly hard. Since I was a kid, this was where we always came to the beach. I have so many happy memories here, most recently a week I spent with my family here only a month ago. Bolivar is one of the places that really is "home" for me.
Another of Bolivar.
The Balinese Room, over the ocean at Galveston. During Prohibition, it was an illegal gambling house. The floors had secret levers in them, so that when the feds would come to investigate, they could just drop the gambling tables into the Gulf. Kind of the most badass place in Galveston, and now it's a pile of rubble.
A shipping warehouse in Houston. Those bays are as high as an 18-wheeler, and completely full of water.
J.P. Morgan Chase Tower, the tallest building in Texas, most of its windows shattered.
My dad's driveway, his smashed truck, and what used to be one of our trees.
Life is slowly returning to what might pass for normal, but it's a long process. Evacuees aren't even allowed to go back to Galveston yet to take stock of the losses. Only a fourth of the city has power at this point. Tap water still has to be boiled to be used. There's still has a curfew out from 9 PM - 6 AM in some areas. We're incredibly thankful for the relatively low death toll. The city itself can be rebuilt. Efforts before and after the storm showed the real strength of our people. Houston will return, stronger than ever.
ETA: This is everything you need to know: No Place Like Home