galveston.
From January 2009
From January 2009
From January 2009
From January 2009
From January 2009
From January 2009
From January 2009
From January 2009
From January 2009
From January 2009
Lookin' down through a tide of no return
Is a field where the crops no longer grow
Parched is the land, strangled an' be damned
There for the Grace Of God go I
Down beside where the riverbed sleeps
Is a man not knowin' what he should feel
Mocked by the wave that beats the waters edge
There for the Grace Of God go I
If I ever hurt another like thee again
I would drown myself beneath your name
Lost was the child, we all once did hide
There for the Grace Of God go I
-Flogging Molly
We visited Galveston this past weekend, and my initial shock of the storm damage has changed to this overwhelmingly numb feeling. Fred described it best as we were driving back up the causeway: "It feels like a cancer is spreading throughout the island, leaving storefronts empty and places boarded up."
The first thing I did when I arrived on Saturday morning was park in front of Mod and drink my convenience store coffee in my car, staring at the shop's closed doors through my rain-streaked car window. Despite the thunderstorms passing through that day, some locals milled about on their way to Bob's or the mailbox place on Postoffice Street. If you ignored the boarded up store fronts, it felt like a typical winter in Galveston, devoid of tourists.
Rhiannon and I met up and walked to the Seawall, which was not a friendly place. Harsh, cold winds swept dry sand into the water and scoured the sidewalks. A handful of seagulls stood at the edge of the tide with their feathers puffed up from the cold, like sentinels guarding some aquatic territory. The ribs and joints of one of the ruined piers stood bleakly in the water, with no walkway to or from its empty decks.
There is a certain sad grace to the island at this time. She's an aging, ill woman who feels just awful, but still wears an elegant bed jacket and plays some great jazz music on her victrola while she tells you about her aches and pains. "It will be harder to pay the bills now without that West End to help me," she says, and coughs wetly into a handkerchief.
Even before the storm hit, not every store in downtown was occupied, nor every house kept up and rented out. It will take years and years to get it up to that level again.
On Sunday I got a sunny disposition courtesy of Oslo Wind.
From January 2009
From January 2009
He now makes quacking noises, and says "kicky" for kitty. I can't handle the cuteness! The day before I saw him he made two wobbly steps by himself, which Lauren hopes he'll repeat soon. While I was there, he was much too cautious to risk that again, circumnavigating objects and people to get closer to another safe harbor.
Later we met a few members of our old Galveston crew at O'Malley's Stage Door Pub, where they had found a hidden treasure behind the bar's walls. In stripping away rotted sheetrock, pink and white striped wallpaper appeared, bedecked with cutouts of Vargas pinup girls. On one end, phone numbers dating back to prohibition times were scrawled in pencil. This must be where the public phone was installed. Who knows what O'Malley's used to be back then. Topless bar? A boom-boom room? Hilarious. They've left a window on that part of the wall so all can see what lies beneath.
Surely she has a lot more secrets to share; I hope she gets well soon.