Riding her bike into the eye

Waiting for Erin to hit

We lived through TS Erin. Rain, wind…. and the trailer? It was a rockin’ with the wind….among other things.

There were many relatives agitated with our decision, but come on, it was a tropical storm for Pete’s sake! I have no intention of leaving the semi-tropics for a whimpy tropical storm. Shesh.

We have lived at the coast for most of our lives, prior to moving to Mayberry, so it would take something really hairy to get us off our butts and evacuate. Evacuation is something we reserve for Cats 3 and above. Cat 1 or 2? We usually wait it out. maybe not in a trailer, but certainly in a brick house.

In Fall of 1989, I was in Ft. Worth visiting my parents and Bill was in Galveston waiting for my return. I remember my father waking me early in the morning and saying “Girl, you need to get up and get home. That hurricane took a turn and is going to make a direct hit on the west end of Galveston.”

I know the first thing you are thinking is, “Why was he telling her to get home?”. Well, my Dad was an engineer, very logical, and the logical thing to do was to get home and help Bill pack the house up quickly so we both could then evacuate.

I loaded my car and took off. The weather reports were predicting landfall at 11pm, so I had plenty of time to make the 5-6 hour drive home, load the car with valuables, and turn around and head inland with Bill.

Problem was, when I stopped off at a friends house in Houston (that’s pronounces “Youston”, not “Hugh-ston” ;*)) at 4p.m., I was told the hurricane was making land fall in less than an hour. If I had not stopped in Youston, I would have been on the Galveston causeway when it hit. Not a good place to be with a Toyota single cab pick-up.

I called Bill at home and he said “No! Stay put, it is hitting right now. It is unreal right now, and the water is coming up the back pasture towards the house.” I asked him if he could still leave and he said, no, he was staying.

I have to back up a bit and let you all know what he had been doing earlier in the day. Can you guess? Go on, try.

My husband…..the born on the island (BOI) Galvestonian, was sailing in a sail boat race. In pre-hurricane winds. In the Galveston shipping channel. 3 hours before the storm hit.

Yes, they were that insane and that good at what they did. The guy knows how to sail a boat, that is for sure. Those balls will come in handy next spring when we load up in the boat with 4 kids and head a bit closer to the equator. But I am getting ahead of myself. Have I mentioned our new home might be just a launching pad for something even cooler? Oh, Ahem. More on that later.

The eye of that storm went directly over our house…..the house with my husband in it.

When I was finally allowed back on the island in the wee hours of the morning, there were dead animals all over the road and live electrical wires everywhere…..and it was a very small hurricane. Imagine what a beastie Cat 5 can do.

Hurricanes are the price for living in a beach town.

How does this make me feel?

It is with xhilaration that I welcome the routine of plotting, tracking and obsessively watching those spinning, wild, raw beasts
march across the waters toward the Gulf and back into our lives.

Call me crazy, or call me Jody.

It is six of one, half dozen of the other.

But most importantly, we have been christened and are home.