Surviving the Storm
Ever heard of a derecho?
I hadn’t, until recently. It’s related to a tornado, and can be just as deadly. Instead of twisting up everything in its path and tossing it around, a derecho’s furious winds wreak devastation in a straight line, like a giant hundred-mile-an-hour freight train.
Last May, one barreled through two hundred miles of Texas, including our neighborhood. It tore through swaths of open landscape and mowed down houses and other buildings, leaving hundreds of thousands electricity customers in the dark.
People died from falling trees. If you want to know what our derecho was like, these videos from the Houston Chronicle pretty much gives you a taste. Yes, it was scary.
In our neighborhood, it was mostly the trees, those majestic century-old oaks in our urban forest that suffered the greatest damage.
And then in July…
Hurricane Beryl hit us with howling winds and high water. Thousands of homes were ravaged. Thousands of businesses lost power—many, for weeks. People lost their lives from the sweltering heat.
After two previous summers of drought, the May derecho, and July’s hurricane, many more stately trees succumbed. Some, still standing, are leaning at ominous angles over homes and streets and sidewalks. Others are stripped down to mere skeletons of their former lushness. So many sad sights where once there was beauty and abundance.
We’re used to summer storms around here. The Body in the News, Book 3 in my Samantha Newman Mystery series, revolves around the aftermath of one of the worst hurricanes to hit these parts in recent history.
Clean-up and repairs from the May derecho weren’t completed when the July hurricane hit. We’re now two months beyond Beryl, yet a walk around the neighborhood still bears sad reminders of the destructive forces of nature. And now…
Here comes another one!
As I write this, the weather service is serving us updates on Francine, the tropical storm in the Gulf of Mexico that’s expected to become a hurricane today. It, too, is headed our way, or somewhere between us and New Orleans.
In case it arrives ahead of schedule, and we lose power again, I’ll wrap this up and get it posted. But before I sign off, there’s one more thing…
I’ve come to understand the therapeutic benefit of immersing oneself in a leafy retreat, which is why I mourn losing so much of the neighborhood greenery. However, in the larger scheme of things, life can hit us with more serious hardships at any time, so, it’s important to keep this in mind:
Trees can be replanted. Lives lost are irreplaceable.
Instead of wringing our hands over what is lost, or what may happen next, let’s celebrate the people and things that bring beauty to our lives today.
Let’s appreciate what we have with with renewed attention and open affection.
And, if the mood strikes, while you’re hugging those dear to you, it might also help to hug a tree. Turns out, they can be as fragile as people.
Have you ever weathered a scary natural disaster?
Please leave your comments below…
Gay Yellen is the award-winning author of the of the Samantha Newman Mystery Series: The Body Business, The Body Next Door, and The Body in the News.
Gay, living near a large body of water can be wonderful, but as you know, it can also brings massive weather-related problems.
Superstorm Sandy did tremendous damage to us in the NY metro area. The salt water from surges that rushed through the streets of Manhattan wreaked corrosive devastation to power lines and the subway system. Out in the suburbs, we were without power for 9 days, and during that time, we had a freak October snowstorm. Unless you had a generator, you had no power or heat, but even those with portable generators eventually ran out of gas for them, and none of the gas stations had power to pump gas! Lots of families wound up spending thirty thousand dollars or more afterwards to install full-house backup generators.
Lois, it’s interesting to me how we usually hear about far away disasters like the Sandy storm you describe, but the aftermath of day-to-day suffering is hardly spoken of. That reality hit home for me after what was “only” a tropical storm flooded my mother’s storage unit, destroying treasured family heirlooms and documents. Before that, I naively thought a flood only made things wet. Now, I can never forget the stench it created, and my empathy for victims of these disasters runs much deeper.
Gay, I never realized that a derecho had hit Houston last year. We get plenty of weather issues in Texas. Now we all have to worry about derechos. I previously thought derecho’s only hit tropical areas.
It was an eye-opener for all of us around here, Kathryn. The video in this post says it all.
Gay, I would have thought moving up here to Cypress from Galveston would make me less likely to experience storms, but clearly not! My daughter’s family (they live in Houston, 2 mi. away) had to stay with me in the event you mentioned, in my little “cottage” at the 55+ community in which I’ve relocated, for 4 days—due to no electricity. We only lost power here for most of a day. They sure were glad I moved near them. When I was growing up in Galveston, most people who fled, fled to Houston. We never fled when I was a kid (and we lived on Offatts Bayou) until Carla threatened. My father “had a feeling,” so we left and returned to find a tornado had hit our new house. Insurance being what it was back then, my parents had to pay off that house over 23 years. The pittance they had received was only enough to build a much smaller place. I have a lot of stories about storms we witnessed both in my childhood and once grown and married. I bet your cousin Saralyn doe, too! BTW, a wonderful thing has been invented since then that I’ve taken advantage of (and so have a lot of other retirees where I live). You can now buy “tabletop” generators for less than $1000 + the cost of solar panels. They’re quiet, too. I’ve just plugged mine in and hope I won’t need it, but it will run my refrigerator, a fan, my computer, and some other small things. Just FYI. You probably already know about them.
Wow, Susan. Growing up in Galveston, you know storms!
I fear we are just beginning to see what ampped temperatures can do to our precious Earth. We have always had storms and disasters but the number and frequency are increasing. We’ve had very near misses from tornados here. Holding you in my thoughts, Gay, and all of you!
Thank you, T.K. As of this moment, it looks like the folks in Louisiana will be bearing the brunt of this storm. Wishing them strength and endurance as it moves onshore today.
Gay, I feel for you having to live through, then lay witness so much destruction. No, I’ve never heard of a derecho. When my husband and I were newly married, we moved to Seabrook, Texas. I considered it an adventure–he did not. While we dated, he said to me, I never want to live on the West, East or Gulf Coast. So where did his career take him? The Gulf Coast 🙂 I loved Seabrook, worked for a subsidiary of NASA, and enjoyed the brick homes and lush surroundings and being so close to the water–a first for me. I had even started dreaming of buying a home in the vicinity (we were living in an apartment). Then we were told of an impending hurricane and we spent hours stacking furniture and preparing. Fortunately, we were spared any damage in that event. Otherwise, I’ve survived the Blizzard of 1984 in Denver and spent the night in Stapleton International Aiprort (replaced by DIA) when twelve feet of snow grounded planes and left passengers stranded for several hours. Terrible experience, no food, babies without formula, etc. Other then that I survived the Waldo Canyon and Black Forest Fires in Colorado Springs in 2012 and 2013 . No matter where you live, weather and climate are factors.
Wow, Donnell, you’ve had your share of close calls! Sounds like your stay in Seabrook and working for a NASA contractor was interesting, at least.
Be safe! These storms and their havoc are frightening and remind us of how fragile life is.
So true, Debra.
Hurricane Ian, a Category 5 hurricane, ripped through our Florida neighborhood two years ago on Sept. 28. We have neighbors who still haven’t recovered from the property damage–tarped roofs, missing fence lines and bare landscape. We had been in our newly built house only two years so the trees that toppled were still young and new. Fortunately, we were able to upright them and with some TLC, they re-rooted and survived. You’re right about the value of our lives. Despite the devastation, the downed power lines, the missing mailboxes and roofs, as soon as we could, everyone in the neighborhood rushed outside to make sure everyone else was okay. We hugged. We wiped tears away. We ran to doors still unopened and knocked to rouse the occupants. I met many of my neighbors for the first time that day. Yeah, the trees were gone but brotherly love was stronger than ever. I still tear up writing about it. Stay safe, everyone.
Rena, thanks for your comment. I teared up when I read it. Sounds like you live among warm-hearted people, the best kind of neighbors to have. Glad you were able to save the trees!
Sigh! I wish I didn’t know as much about storms as I do! Hurricane Ike in 2008 left me with PTSD. I don’t take storms lightly anymore.
Hoping you stay safe this season, Saralyn.