Watching Ike

12 September 2008

Yep.  That’s all we can do.  Just watch.  Helpless.  And pray a little.

My photo is simply of my laptop screen.  I keep switching between news sites, and weather sites.  This one is

We know we are relatively safe.  We will see strong winds and some serious rain.  Outdoor events may be cancelled or closed early.  But, actually, the closer Ike gets to landfall, the farther his projected path seems to move east and away from us.  But, Galveston and Houston will have no such reprieve.

We have countless friends in the Houston area.  Some have headed for higher ground.  And others are simply “hunkered down.”  Surprisingly, we have no one in our guest room—-which makes me feel even more helpless about the whole thing. 

I know our people are probably all pretty darned safe and sound.  Probably gathered with other family members and friends.  Probably with well-stocked pantries and plenty of candles.  And hopefully a couple of guitars, puzzles, decks of cards and other unplugged pasttimes.   But, it doesn’t stop me from worrying about them.

I get . . . weird  . . . when there’s a hurricane headed toward Galveston Island.  My friends pretty much know that.  I’ve been on the verge of tears most of the day.  I had to turn the television off.  It defies logical explanation, the fear and dread and . . . empathy I feel.   I sure wish I knew where I was in 1900 when the Great Storm hit.  Or who.

So, I sit here at my computer, frustrated that there isn’t more up-to-date, up-to-the-minute information about what’s going on down there right now. Of course, hopefully, that’s because everyone with two brain cells to rub together is gone from there!  Fairly early in the afternoon, reporters had already pulled back and set up camp in downtown Houston, due to flooding on the island.  Storm surges are expected to be those of a Category 4 hurricane, despite the fact that Ike seems to remain a Cat 2.   I know I need to just go to bed and sleep, but sleep will be fitful.

I’ve gotten a couple of questions from folks about what happens to our Dickens plans if the island is devastated.  Who knows?  That’s actually the very least of my worries.  Kelly’s silver lining on that subject was that she’d have lots more time to make the dresses she has orders to make!  And, even Kyle said tonight, if Dickens plans are aborted this year, we’d have more money for Scotland!  I’m usually silver lining girl, but tonight all I can think is . . . that’s my island.

An email from Clay, who visited the island last week, said the Tremont is prepared for the first floor to go under water tonight.  Can it, or the Galveston News building, or the Moody Mansion, or any of the other brave buildings with brass placques proudly bearing the word “survivor,” stand another great storm—-108 years later?

How can I sleep?