The smell of the sea fills my senses
as my feet march steadily along the beach towards the crashing waves.
The sounds of my daughters' squeals and my wife's shrieks
as the cool waters of the gulf splash them
are like background noise in my ears.
My sons have gone into the water before me
and are reveling in their very first swim in the ocean
delighting in the waves that pulse up and down
occasionally washing over their heads.
Teenagers now, I notice they are both manly in their fearlessness
and boyish in their play.
My mind says the water isn't cold
as it reaches first my ankles, then my calves,
when it reaches my thighs, my body begins to half accuse/half question
"Are you sure this isn't cold?"
"No!" my mind insists as I dive in,
"You'll be used to it in a minute!"
I am a little out of breath when I reach my boys
but here we are, bobbing in the water,
I wonder what they are thinking
as I watch my daughters hang on their mom
bobbing in the water laughing at something that's
"just between the girls".
I notice that my body has accepted the temperature of the water
and the buoyancy of the gulf is providing soothing relief from my enemy,
the ever present pain,
that slips stealthily from my joints, to my muscles,
to my head, and back again in no particular order.
My reverie, though full of pleasure
has touches of sadness in it
I wish this had happened sooner,
Three of my children are grownup now
and could not come with us on this trip.
Two of them will not come with us in this new chapter of our lives
They are writing their own stories now
Sprinkled, no doubt with episodes of our encounters together
But, I remind myself, that this is what children do.
"Daddy! Come on!", the little's call, "Help us boogie board!"
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
"Bluster, backpats, & a swift kick in the ass." or "The unholy trinity"
This is an article I wrote in response to the absolute debacle that occured on Galveston Island after Ike. Unfortunately, it was WAAAY to long to submit to the Galveston Daily News as a comment or guest article, so I just posted it on fb. here it is:
I spent most of my childhood and early adult years on the Gulf Coast. Squalls, gale force winds in thunderstorms, flash floods, and even hurricanes were just part the package. As a kid, I never gave a thought to such things as evacuations, infrastructure, recovery and such. By the time I had become an adult I had been through a few hurricanes and was fully aware of just how brutal nature could be and the need for planning for such events. My wife had been through Alicia as a young woman and had never really forgotten how scared she and her older brother were when a tree burst through their roof in Kingwood.
My wife & I, along with our 7 children have spent most of the last 25 years in the Midwest and just moved to Galveston in May. My wife was especially vocal in her desire to be prepared for a hurricane and so as hurricane season approached we dutifully read articles and pamphlets telling us what to do in the event one aimed itself our way. When the City of Galveston announced its Hurricane Preparedness meeting at the San Luis, my wife was determined that we attend, and so we went. I was pleasantly surprised at all the booths with information and swag, my wife and I both filling a small bag with information and "goodies" like band aids, pencils and such. The big screen and supporting equipment left me anticipating an information packed meeting and so I sat, free pencil in hand, ready to take notes on my free note pad, waiting to hear potentially life preserving information.
Was I in for a disappointment. The meeting started 45 minutes late and then we had to listen to Judge Yarbrough, Mayor Thomas, and City Manager Steve LaBlanc lavish praise and adulation on each other for the glorious evacuation plan they had all come up with to avoid a repeat of the debacle of Rita. So after 45 minutes of sitting around waiting for things to start, another 45 minutes of listening to mind numbing, yawn and sleep inducing bluster, along with pats on the back we finally got to hear about 15 minutes of how great our evacuation plan was going to work now that those idiots in Houston were going to stay out of our way, another 15 minutes on what to do if we didn't evacuate and about 30 minutes of the history of hurricanes, how hard it is to predict hurricanes, and the chances of a big one hitting us again. After a short Q & A session I got up bleary eyed and feeling that I had wasted my evening. Nothing of substance was offered at the meeting that had not been splayed all over the television for weeks saving the hot air coming from the mouths of the Galveston’s unholy trinity, Yarbrough, Thomas, and LaBlanc.
My wife had been reading whatever she could find at the local library on the hurricanes Galveston has weathered and wondered out loud what would happen if another struck Galveston head on. What would happen? What would be left? What would flood? I could only give her "the look", the one that says "I don't know, don't bug me about it." When she would finally corner me in order to elicit an audible response, I was somewhat condescending with a generic "The big ones rarely materialize, and we're behind the seawall, we'll be fine." or "We will evacuate if necessary and comeback and fix whatever damage we have after the storm." I figured if a big one hit, things would be difficult for a while, no electricity, possibly no water, maybe no gas, all of which would be very inconvenient and miserable. I really didn't want to dwell on it too hard. We would just have to deal with it, when and if it happened.
I never would have imagined that after all hot air blown by our county and city leaders about how well prepared they were for a hurricane, that all they had really planned for was how to evacuate, it should be obvious by now that they were not just caught with their pants down, but that someone had tied their shoe laces together, and when they got up to run around like chickens with their heads cut off, they tripped and fell over each other like bungling idiots in a bad slapstick routine. Except it wasn't a comedy, it was our lives, those of us that obeyed the evacuation order, placed trust in our officials to help us through this calamity. Instead, they closed the city, closed ranks, denied us lawful access to our property, limited information to the media, and refused or neglected to use the tools at their disposal to accurately communicate the state of the city to those of us that were stranded not only by the damage of the hurricane but by their decision to keep us in the dark.
Instead of a comprehensive and fair plan that would allow an orderly progressive entry back onto the island in a reasonable time for all the residents of Galveston, we have had to rely on the seemingly arbitrary decisions of the officers guarding the checkpoints letting friends, connected folks, and smooth talkers on, while denying entry to others whom they don't know, aren't connected, or were unwilling to lie in order to get back into their homes. I resisted the urge to have a couple of car magnets made for a fictitious Disaster Recovery business to use as a ploy to get on the Island, only to hear a news story about two brothers that successfully did just that and had begun work on their brothers home. People that refused the evacuation order, liars, lawbreakers, BOI's, and the well connected had been able to began necessary repair and recovery of their property, while those of us that tried to be good citizens had to let our damaged homes get worse with every passing day. Homes that had water damage that is difficult to take care of even when attended to immediately, had 12 days of mold, mildew and bacterial growth to be contended with when we are finally allowed in. And the permit process just allowed things to get worse.
I can hardly believe that this was simply misplaced paternalism of officials trying to do what was best for their "children". As events have unfolded and are becoming clearer, I am convinced that our leaders were so ill prepared for such a disaster as Ike that they cutoff communication with the outside world in order to cover their asses as they ineffectively tried to cobble together a recovery. In the process doing that, they made a terrible situation for every Galvestonian worse. Folks with no home other than Galveston and no money to stay anywhere else have had to stay in overcrowded homes of friends or relatives, or cramped uncomfortable shelters that offer little or no privacy to people in the most trying of circumstances, I even met a man while fishing one our local lagoons that was living in a shack he had made from plywood and covered with brush right next to the lagoon to avoid robbery or detection from the police. This is not a bum, but a man with a job who works everyday and cannot repair what was lost and has nowhere to go.
I realize that our county and city officials have probably been working hard to get to us even to this point, but they have failed us by not being prepared for this event, neglecting plans devised by previous administrations, neglecting the needs of the displaced citizenry for information, and refusing to treat all citizens the same. Some of them need to fired, some of them need to be replaced in the next elections, and some of them need a swift kick in the ass
I spent most of my childhood and early adult years on the Gulf Coast. Squalls, gale force winds in thunderstorms, flash floods, and even hurricanes were just part the package. As a kid, I never gave a thought to such things as evacuations, infrastructure, recovery and such. By the time I had become an adult I had been through a few hurricanes and was fully aware of just how brutal nature could be and the need for planning for such events. My wife had been through Alicia as a young woman and had never really forgotten how scared she and her older brother were when a tree burst through their roof in Kingwood.
My wife & I, along with our 7 children have spent most of the last 25 years in the Midwest and just moved to Galveston in May. My wife was especially vocal in her desire to be prepared for a hurricane and so as hurricane season approached we dutifully read articles and pamphlets telling us what to do in the event one aimed itself our way. When the City of Galveston announced its Hurricane Preparedness meeting at the San Luis, my wife was determined that we attend, and so we went. I was pleasantly surprised at all the booths with information and swag, my wife and I both filling a small bag with information and "goodies" like band aids, pencils and such. The big screen and supporting equipment left me anticipating an information packed meeting and so I sat, free pencil in hand, ready to take notes on my free note pad, waiting to hear potentially life preserving information.
Was I in for a disappointment. The meeting started 45 minutes late and then we had to listen to Judge Yarbrough, Mayor Thomas, and City Manager Steve LaBlanc lavish praise and adulation on each other for the glorious evacuation plan they had all come up with to avoid a repeat of the debacle of Rita. So after 45 minutes of sitting around waiting for things to start, another 45 minutes of listening to mind numbing, yawn and sleep inducing bluster, along with pats on the back we finally got to hear about 15 minutes of how great our evacuation plan was going to work now that those idiots in Houston were going to stay out of our way, another 15 minutes on what to do if we didn't evacuate and about 30 minutes of the history of hurricanes, how hard it is to predict hurricanes, and the chances of a big one hitting us again. After a short Q & A session I got up bleary eyed and feeling that I had wasted my evening. Nothing of substance was offered at the meeting that had not been splayed all over the television for weeks saving the hot air coming from the mouths of the Galveston’s unholy trinity, Yarbrough, Thomas, and LaBlanc.
My wife had been reading whatever she could find at the local library on the hurricanes Galveston has weathered and wondered out loud what would happen if another struck Galveston head on. What would happen? What would be left? What would flood? I could only give her "the look", the one that says "I don't know, don't bug me about it." When she would finally corner me in order to elicit an audible response, I was somewhat condescending with a generic "The big ones rarely materialize, and we're behind the seawall, we'll be fine." or "We will evacuate if necessary and comeback and fix whatever damage we have after the storm." I figured if a big one hit, things would be difficult for a while, no electricity, possibly no water, maybe no gas, all of which would be very inconvenient and miserable. I really didn't want to dwell on it too hard. We would just have to deal with it, when and if it happened.
I never would have imagined that after all hot air blown by our county and city leaders about how well prepared they were for a hurricane, that all they had really planned for was how to evacuate, it should be obvious by now that they were not just caught with their pants down, but that someone had tied their shoe laces together, and when they got up to run around like chickens with their heads cut off, they tripped and fell over each other like bungling idiots in a bad slapstick routine. Except it wasn't a comedy, it was our lives, those of us that obeyed the evacuation order, placed trust in our officials to help us through this calamity. Instead, they closed the city, closed ranks, denied us lawful access to our property, limited information to the media, and refused or neglected to use the tools at their disposal to accurately communicate the state of the city to those of us that were stranded not only by the damage of the hurricane but by their decision to keep us in the dark.
Instead of a comprehensive and fair plan that would allow an orderly progressive entry back onto the island in a reasonable time for all the residents of Galveston, we have had to rely on the seemingly arbitrary decisions of the officers guarding the checkpoints letting friends, connected folks, and smooth talkers on, while denying entry to others whom they don't know, aren't connected, or were unwilling to lie in order to get back into their homes. I resisted the urge to have a couple of car magnets made for a fictitious Disaster Recovery business to use as a ploy to get on the Island, only to hear a news story about two brothers that successfully did just that and had begun work on their brothers home. People that refused the evacuation order, liars, lawbreakers, BOI's, and the well connected had been able to began necessary repair and recovery of their property, while those of us that tried to be good citizens had to let our damaged homes get worse with every passing day. Homes that had water damage that is difficult to take care of even when attended to immediately, had 12 days of mold, mildew and bacterial growth to be contended with when we are finally allowed in. And the permit process just allowed things to get worse.
I can hardly believe that this was simply misplaced paternalism of officials trying to do what was best for their "children". As events have unfolded and are becoming clearer, I am convinced that our leaders were so ill prepared for such a disaster as Ike that they cutoff communication with the outside world in order to cover their asses as they ineffectively tried to cobble together a recovery. In the process doing that, they made a terrible situation for every Galvestonian worse. Folks with no home other than Galveston and no money to stay anywhere else have had to stay in overcrowded homes of friends or relatives, or cramped uncomfortable shelters that offer little or no privacy to people in the most trying of circumstances, I even met a man while fishing one our local lagoons that was living in a shack he had made from plywood and covered with brush right next to the lagoon to avoid robbery or detection from the police. This is not a bum, but a man with a job who works everyday and cannot repair what was lost and has nowhere to go.
I realize that our county and city officials have probably been working hard to get to us even to this point, but they have failed us by not being prepared for this event, neglecting plans devised by previous administrations, neglecting the needs of the displaced citizenry for information, and refusing to treat all citizens the same. Some of them need to fired, some of them need to be replaced in the next elections, and some of them need a swift kick in the ass
Sunday, January 10, 2010
What dreams are made of.
I woke up this morning with a smile on my face…. No, not for THAT reason, you of ribald minds, I should be so lucky.
I woke up smiling because of a dream…. get your mind out of the gutter… you know who you are.
Dreams….they still aren’t totally understood by scientist, but the general consensus at this point in history is that dreams are where we work out things subconsciously that we cannot figure out, work out, or act out in our waking lives. Sometimes they just amount to fantasies that we would never act out in real life, other times they deal with dilemmas that we are unable to resolve, and still other times are a bizarre combination of the sights, sounds, thoughts, & experiences of our lives weaving a narrative of their own. Religious groups often ascribe some spiritual quality to dreams as being divinely or demonically inspired omens, warnings, encouragement, or instructions.
I rarely remember my dreams, so when I do, I ponder it. I wonder what meaning it has? What problem am I trying to solve in it? What thoughts or experiences do I need to be process? What spicy food did I eat that served as the catalyst? For the past eight years my dreams have mostly been dark, violent affairs with me personifying the pain my body & mind are in. I do battle & wage war in pitched bloody conflict, my profane curses being uttered aloud as I sleep and the real-life pain causing such thrashing about that the sheets & covers are torn off. So much so, that my wife’s side of the bed is the picture of tranquility, and my side looks as if someone is preparing to wash the bedclothes.
This morning’s dream was a comedy. It featured two of my favorite people. We used to see each other daily, then more or less weekly, and then rarely. In the last 4 years I have only seen them a few times. Our lives just took different paths. Recently, circumstances were such that they & all their children were able to visit us here on our little island. It was a good visit, it was fun and easy. There was baggage hanging onto our relationship that needed to be jettisoned. As far as I am concerned it was. And so imagine my surprise when they showed up in my dream.
True to the nature of the husband, it was a slapstick comedy, over the top, & corny. They had something they wanted me to know, but couldn’t tell me for some unknown reason. Me, being the epitome of the curious cat that I am, just HAD to know what it was! And so the juvenile punch line developed. “Would you like to tell me, or would you like-like to tell me?” like tweens say when they develop their first crushes. I asked the question in every combination I could think of and in all kinds of ridiculous settings and of course they responded in kind. It got sillier & sillier as the dream went on until finally I woke up with the couple insisting they would “REAALLLLY LIKE-LIKE” to tell me the heretofore unmentioned issue.
Laying there in bed, I smiled, giggling at the dream, wondering what it meant.
What was I trying to work out in relation to them?
What was my unconscious trying to tell me?
Then it came to me, it wasn’t all that profound, nor was it new information.
It was simply that I miss them being a regular part of my life.
And that I REALLY LIKE-LIKE them.
I woke up smiling because of a dream…. get your mind out of the gutter… you know who you are.
Dreams….they still aren’t totally understood by scientist, but the general consensus at this point in history is that dreams are where we work out things subconsciously that we cannot figure out, work out, or act out in our waking lives. Sometimes they just amount to fantasies that we would never act out in real life, other times they deal with dilemmas that we are unable to resolve, and still other times are a bizarre combination of the sights, sounds, thoughts, & experiences of our lives weaving a narrative of their own. Religious groups often ascribe some spiritual quality to dreams as being divinely or demonically inspired omens, warnings, encouragement, or instructions.
I rarely remember my dreams, so when I do, I ponder it. I wonder what meaning it has? What problem am I trying to solve in it? What thoughts or experiences do I need to be process? What spicy food did I eat that served as the catalyst? For the past eight years my dreams have mostly been dark, violent affairs with me personifying the pain my body & mind are in. I do battle & wage war in pitched bloody conflict, my profane curses being uttered aloud as I sleep and the real-life pain causing such thrashing about that the sheets & covers are torn off. So much so, that my wife’s side of the bed is the picture of tranquility, and my side looks as if someone is preparing to wash the bedclothes.
This morning’s dream was a comedy. It featured two of my favorite people. We used to see each other daily, then more or less weekly, and then rarely. In the last 4 years I have only seen them a few times. Our lives just took different paths. Recently, circumstances were such that they & all their children were able to visit us here on our little island. It was a good visit, it was fun and easy. There was baggage hanging onto our relationship that needed to be jettisoned. As far as I am concerned it was. And so imagine my surprise when they showed up in my dream.
True to the nature of the husband, it was a slapstick comedy, over the top, & corny. They had something they wanted me to know, but couldn’t tell me for some unknown reason. Me, being the epitome of the curious cat that I am, just HAD to know what it was! And so the juvenile punch line developed. “Would you like to tell me, or would you like-like to tell me?” like tweens say when they develop their first crushes. I asked the question in every combination I could think of and in all kinds of ridiculous settings and of course they responded in kind. It got sillier & sillier as the dream went on until finally I woke up with the couple insisting they would “REAALLLLY LIKE-LIKE” to tell me the heretofore unmentioned issue.
Laying there in bed, I smiled, giggling at the dream, wondering what it meant.
What was I trying to work out in relation to them?
What was my unconscious trying to tell me?
Then it came to me, it wasn’t all that profound, nor was it new information.
It was simply that I miss them being a regular part of my life.
And that I REALLY LIKE-LIKE them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)