Hurricane Ike: How'd it Go?

Okay...Hannah asked, "How do hurricanes get made?" Good question. Right now I know you are all wondering about how we faired during Ike, and not so much about how he got to be. Well, lets begin by saying, we are all safe, and escaped any heavy damage...though the sewer backed up. This was really, really gross. We had no power, so we sacraficed our towels, comforters and area rugs to clean up the inside mess. Doug improvised and used the kids water gun squirters as the wet vac.


The storm was long and brutal. We avoided the Rita exodus, and stayed for the last hurricane, and figured this storm would be no different. We were wrong. Doug and our friend John boarded up the windows, which helped to buffer the noise. The term howling is not descriptive enough for the wind and rain that followed. What the storm lacked in windspeed it made up for in duration. For four hours the house was pounded. Then the eye passed over, a quiet eerie matinee to the next act. The second round of four hour wind proved to be even more lethal. Doug, Hannah, Abbie, and Aaron fell asleep. I stayed awake, listening for the potential thud of a tree. Kingwood is called the "livable forest", ironically the areas greatest assets becames its lethal weapons.


Once the storm was over, the neighbors collectively emerged to survey the mess. The air was still wet, hot and sticky. What we saw was a green and brown disaster area. Gigantic oaks were uprooted, tree limbs littered the ground. Utility poles were turned sideways. Pine trees were split in two. Collectively, the neighbors got to work. We raked, chainsawed and bundled. On the main streets, the street crews cleared the trees, with the same skill as snow plowers. Though this team scurried from the heavy trucks headed to the roadblocks, chainsawed and moved them aside, and continued down the road.


We had no access to communication for 24 hours, other then the radio. We pulled together. We shared generators, power tools, and our skills. Extension cords tethered us to our next door neighbor. I had the community fridge running. Two neighbors had gas stovetops and we took turns boiling water for dinner. Anu and Jana shared homemade indian cuisine.


For several days we didn't venture beyond the neighborhood perimeters. A curfew was enforced, and due to the power outages stores were closed. Really, there was no where to go, nothing was open, and workers couldn't get to work. Once the stores opened, long lines emerged, and meat, produce and frozen food were pulled from the shelves. We shopped in darkness. It is strange to go shop around a darkened grocery store. Gas lines were an hour long.


The children enjoyed the time off. The storm brought new found freedom for them. They were allowed to ride their bike unaccompanied and beyond the stop sign. They made plays, and talent shows. At night, we held a neighborhood campfire and made s'mores. One neighbor projected movies on to the garage door (plugged in to the generator across the street), for the Red Cedar drive-in. Abbie played with Luke, the new springer spaniel puppy dog next door. Someone wrote that the birth of A/C brought about the death of the community. Ike seems to prove the statement true. The hot weather forced our windows and doors open. The common catastrophe gave us common work, and a shared vision.

The lights came back two weeks later. Other then debris awaiting removal, and the bevvy of broken signs, the freeway of utility trucks, and blue-tarp colored roofs, life is back to normal. We're back in our house, doors closed, and still talk about how much worse it could have been.