Monday, February 23, 2009

You can't go home again



After, during, and before Ike.

Our happy days at the beach have come to an end. On Friday, September 12, 2008, Hurricane Ike took our home and everything we had. We spent Thursday boarding up our house, and exhausted, went to bed thinking we would pack up some valuables and leave the next morning. Ike had other plans for us. At 3 am Doug woke up and looked out; it looked like water was already coming over the highway a full day before the storm was due. He decided we should leave quickly; so we drove off the peninsula on Hwy. 87 (the beach road), which was already covered in some areas with six inches of water, to a friend's house in High Island. Three hours later, people were being rescued on the beach road from floating cars and the water was higher than we had ever seen it, the surge almost surrounding High Island. We evacuated to Nacogdoches to Doug's mom's and spent hours watching TV hurricane coverage for news of our little town, Gilchrist, on Bolivar Peninsula, but we heard nothing definitive. We finally did hear that Bridge City, Galveston, and other coastal towns had been badly affected, and there were some deaths and missing people. We feared the worst.

On Sunday we headed back towards the beach; Ike took a toll on all the areas we drove through, leaving ripped and twisted metal, roofs and siding torn off, and trees broken and uprooted. There were very few cars out on the roads. We reached Winnie and were turned back from the road back home to the beach; it was barricaded and the police only let emergency crews in. We found a place to sleep at Doug's lodge in Winnie for a few nights. A friend lent us an air mattress so we wouldn't have to be on the floor. Lucky and Oatmeal (our birds) were happy to be out of the car and have a place to sleep. We had Red Cross and FEMA food later in the week.

It was Monday afternoon when we finally heard the news about our home and our town of Gilchrist; all gone, devastated, and only several houses left. It was so surrealistic, seeing the fly-over film on TV. Where a whole town had been, only a few pilings and sand remained. Our lives were now changed forever, and not by our choice.

We were homeless and not sure what to do next. Fortunately, Doug's sister Bonnie, and husband Dave, brought us a camper to stay in, complete with some food, and we got a spot in an empty RV park in Winnie. The RV park filled quickly over the next several days. Everyone ran on generators for several weeks until the electricity was restored. Our niece Emma and husband Jeremy came by with a generator and some very thoughtfully selected supplies and household goods. Finally some of the stores were repaired and opened for business; the Family Dollar and the Market Basket, and the local laundromat. We really appreciate all the kindness shown to us after Ike: phone calls, a homecooked breakfast and a shower, a place to live, help getting a generator, food and necessities. We also are overwhelmed by the generosity of Bonnie's friend Kathy, who recently gave us furniture and household items to start our lives over again.

When we finally were able to go down to the beach, it was just heartbreaking. Where our home had stood, only pilings and the foundation remained. Our beautiful palm trees were snapped off, uprooted, and bent down. The geotube was ruined, and water made a gully through our yard. We followed the debris trail for over a half mile, finding odds and ends like a few dishes, pottery tiles I had made and a few beads, rusty tools that had been ours, and parts of the siding from our house. It was the same for all our Gilchrist neighbors. Where a community of beach homes had stood, nothing much was left. We decided we could never go back there to live and rebuild. Hurricanes have ended our laid-back beach lifestyle.

Dealing with all the repercussions involved with losing a home is a nightmare. Paying mortgages for homes you no longer live in; trying to deal with FEMA and not having a straight answer (each person you talk to says you are/aren't eligible for assistance) but finally realizing after hours on the phone and filling out a ton of paperwork that its all a joke and not to expect much help; filling out form after form for insurance companies; sitting on the phone for hours trying to deal with all the red tape: none of these things are fun. It is like living in limbo, wondering when it will all be over. Unless you've experienced it yourself, it's difficult for anyone to imagine the frustration and sadness.

Over five months later we are finally moving to a new home. We're going to be farther inland and away from the coast. Lucky for us that we'll be on 26 beautiful acres, and we hope to attract birds and other wildlife. We'll miss seeing the hundreds of brown pelicans that flew daily past our beach house, the dolphins that swam up the coast, and the beautiful spoonbills and blue herons and egrets we saw frequently. I hope to be able to begin making pottery, jewelry, and glass again one day. It will all take time, money, and patience. Doug is looking forward to having a garage again too for his 76 Firebird. It needs a good restoration after the abuse it had to endure at the beach, but he's glad he still has it. I know one thing; we will really appreciate and enjoy having a home again, it will be like heaven to us!


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