and baby makes 6!

Anatomy of an evacuation

The phone started ringing before the hurricane was even in the Gulf of Mexico. Friends and family wanted to know if we were aware there was a hurricane out there (duh), and if we were evacuating, and if so “what is your plan???? You neeeeeed a plan”.

My first reaction was to unplug the phone. My second was to wait patiently for my calm, logical husband to come home from work and discuss the situation.

It was Tuesday morning, and life was going on as usual here. People were going to work, walking their dogs, shopping for groceries. Water was not disappearing off the shelves freakishly, and Chicken Little wasn’t running through the streets screaming “the sky is falling, the sky is falling”.    It was just another day in paradise.

By afternoon, things were quite different. The storm had entered the Gulf, and all indications were that it would be a direct hit on us. Boards started going up on windows, and calm, collected activity was seen everywhere.

When Bill came home, we discussed the plan. We went back and forth trying to decide. On the one hand, although the strike zones were looking grim for us, it was still really early to be making accurate predictions. But this storm was giving us the heebie geebies for some reason. Even Billy was a bit spooked. In the end, boards went up, I loaded all of my photos, videos and family heirlooms in the back of my van, and packed a small bag for each of us……and that’s it. No washing machines. No lawn mowers. No furniture of any shape or sort. Zilch, zip, nada.

The next morning, I ran errands. First the bank, then the grocery store for non-perishables (bread, crackers, peanut butter) and Gatorade, and then home to load up important papers into the car…….birth certificates, shot records, insurance policies, bank statements, etc. (To simplify things, I keep one of those accordian type file folders and rotate things out of it every January, so the most recent papers are always in it. I just grab it and go in an emergency.)

Once back home, we went to the task of all the animals. We had “to-go” carriers for all of them, so we prepared those. There were 6 mini aquariums when we were done. Yes, six aquariums to fit in the van with all the kids and the dog.

Billy came home at noon, finished boarding up the house, and then urged me to leave and he would follow shortly after he made one last check on the boat. He had wanted me to leave the night before, but I refused. To the frustration of Billy, all morning on Wednesday he called asking when we were leaving and I would reply “When you leave, I will leave”

I have to stop here and say that the past has shown me to NEVER believe this man when he says “I will be right behind you, I promise”. My most vivid memory of a hurricane evacuation began with my father waking me up very, very early in the morning and saying “Girl, that hurricane has sped up and is going to hit your hometown. Better get up and head home to help Billy pack the house.” I was in Ft. Worth visiting my parents, and Billy had stayed behind in Galveston for a sail boat race he was in.

I loaded up as fast as I could, called Billy and he said “We are racing this morning, and I promise I will leave after the race is over.” Yes, he really said that. They were going on with the sail boat race as a Cat 1 hurricane bore down on the island.

I took off and started the 5 hour drive home. All of the news on the radio predicted landfall at around 11pm-1am, so I had plenty of time to get home, get what I thought was important, and head inland again. You have to remember, this was in the days prior to Katrina, so the hysteria just was not there. People in north Houston, and inland communities did not complicate coastal evacuations by freaking the hell out and getting on the road with everything but the kitchen sink, blocking those who NEEDED to get out from doing so. (yes, this is a touch point for me. If you do not live by the water, or someplace low, if you are not disabled, elderly or relying on electrical medical equipment, such as oxygen, to survive, please plant yourself in your home and allow those in harms way to get to safety. Many, many of those who did not leave Boliver and Galveston stayed because they feared being stuck in gridlock on I-45, in a car with no gas, as a monster storm bore down on them. The Rita lunacy was etched in their minds. For those of you who were not in harms way with flooding, but knew you might have some high winds, high fives to you for staying and allowing the most vulnerable the road space to get to safety)

Ahem…where was I? Ah yes, heading home……I had one stop to make at a friends in Houston before meeting up with Bill, so at around 4pm I pulled up in front of the house, and everyone ran out to my car saying things like “Thank God you are here, everyone has been calling knowing you were on the road. The hurricane sped way up and is hitting right now!!”

I came inside and called Billy on the off chance he would still be at our house on the West end of the island………….and sure enough, he answered. He did not leave, and it was now too late to leave, as the causeway was closed. He told me that the water was already up, and that breaker boxes were exploding everywhere….and then we lost phone lines.

The next 12 hours were the worst ever. I was so mad at him, and worried out of my mind. By the time I drove onto the island and was allowed to enter at 5a.m., clean up had already started. Yes, it was a small Cat 1 hurricane, but there were power lines down, trees and debris on the road, and dead animals everywhere. The water had already receded, and I was able to get to our house, which was intact with Billy safe inside.

Because of this, I never trust the man when he says; “I’ll be right behind you”, and I told him this. We argued back and forth, and finally I shoved a kid at him and said “I will leave if you agree to take Cory with you.” No, I was not sacrificing a child and putting him in harms way. I knew that if he took one of the kids in his car, there is no way he would stay. He agreed, and took off for the boat.

I loaded the remaining kiddos into the car, and last but not least, put the “to-go” aquariums in and surveyed the van. It was like Noah’s Ark. 2 of every animal. We had 2 salamanders, 2 geckos, a newt, a box turtle, 4 water turtles, a shedding dog and a partridge in a pear tree. It was special. Trust me on this.

Going back into the house was surreal. It was very dark due to the boarded windows, and so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I had placed most of the valuables up high, but it was still daunting. I looked around and thought, “If it hits here, this will all be under water”. I turned, walked out the door and locked it. As I walked toward the van I had to tell myself that all of the “stuff” in our house didn’t matter……everything that I valued in this world was in that van, buckled safely in. Everything else could be replaced.

Living at the coast has its amazing rewards. Some of those rewards are obvious. Some are not. The ocean, the sand, the views, the lifestyle, the people…all of these things come together to make a beach town. The thing is, you have to prepare yourself for when, NOT IF, the time comes to offer Captain Nemo his sacrifice.

That is the price you may pay for your little slice of paradise, and it is hard. I have never had to do it, and to just think about it blows my mind.

I can’t imagine living it.