Enjoy the Ice Cream, or Life, Whatever The Case Might Be

Going in to the labyrinth, when I was in San Antonio with my friends, was also an enlightening experience.

In the week after I was told I had no evidence of cancer, a classmate of my sister's died. I assume from cancer. My cousin died after a routine gall bladder surgery. Both were far too young. I was left wondering how things worked the way they did--why am I still here and others are not? What does this mean?

One of my wise friends mentioned to me that she had decided I'd been forced to join a club to which most folks don't want to belong. I'd always been aware of being in that "club" of parents who had lost a child, another club to which no one wants to belong, but I hadn't thought of having "the cancer" as being forced to join that club no one really wants to join.

And because she is a statistical type of thinker, she also mentioned that not only was I in the "cancer club," I was also in the subset of "survivors," where of course, we all want to be. But that brings it's own set of stresses and not everyone gets that privilege.

These things were on my mind as I was walking into the labyrinth, that I didn't know why I was blessed to have made it into the survivors club, that I was extremely grateful for the privilege, even while I was filled with sorrow for those I knew whose lives had ended way too soon. Life just isn't fair and I can't explain or understand why these things worked out the way they did.

I decided that day that "why" is a useless question, at least where things like life and death and the number of days we are allotted is concerned. I wanted to go back and ask my friends what they thought about the value of why as a question, but we got off on other things and I forgot all about it.

Fast forward to today, while I was reading backwards in a "daily book" that I read, looking for quotes to put in my calendar, in an attempt to add color and depth to the pages.

On July 15th, I was told there was no evidence of cancer. I was also told they would see me again in October. So, occasionally, when I pass on the news that "I am all clear," I whisper silently to myself words like, "at this moment," or "as far as I know now." The prospects of having to go back in October, and again, every three months for three years, and then every six months for two more years before I could be really declared "cured" weighed heavily on me. I joked that I was now that I was declared "clean," that I could now go out and start living again. In three month increments. Of such things are the stresses of the survivors (but I'll take that stress, I'm not complaining, just trying to figure things out in my head).

Anyway, somehow, during that walk into the center of the labyrinth, the weight of those three month increments was lifted and I came to realize how I just need to take my life one day at a time, and not waste a minute of it worrying about what might be. We all get what we get in terms of days to live.

Okay, I'm rambling here! Today, on the July 15th page of this "daily book," there was this quote. I don't know how it didn't scream "I'm significant!" on July 15th when I first read it. Maybe I hadn't heard the good news yet, I don't know.

But it seems to be a good philosophy for me to employ any time I let the "three month increment" blues take over.

"My advice to you is not to inquire why or whither, but just enjoy the ice cream while it's on your plate--that's my philosophy." Thornton Wilder 

A Convoluted Prayer of Thanksgiving

For all the people in my life who remind me

(who gently admonish me?)

to "Breathe!"

I must really need the reminder because it is a common thing for me to hear.

Or maybe it's just a good thing to say 

when there is nothing else to do.

Still, I am grateful 

for friends who can be present

with me

and breathe with me

when there truly is not much else

that can be done.

To sit in that rather helpless place

with another

is not an easy thing to do. 

Those who can do it well

are a balm to the soul.

Halfway Through the Season, Sigh

This is the scene that greeted us as we woke up Saturday morning after a restless night. My husband has to have a small fan running (roaring) at night to sleep so it was hard to hear the wind. I woke up a couple of times to see how things were going. It was quite breezy but we did not get that much rain.

There is a small gully that winds behind these houses. In the middle photo you can see the bridge railings. It was the weirdest thing. The water that you see was not due to rain, but to the infamous storm surge all the weather people talk about these days. Even before the outer bands of Ike actually got here, the water in our lake was overflowing and the bayous were swelling.



The water around these homes had all receded by the afternoon. Our house is across the street from these and the water had been creeping up in our yard. We were worrying that we might flood but we were spared when the water started going down.

We still have electricity but the street my parents live on does not and there are other places that do not have it around town. Hopefully the power will be restored soon. Most of the damage in this area came from flooding this time around rather than winds.

My daughter lives in a trailer south of town. We have not been out there to see if she flooded or had wind damage. We are still technically under a curfew but I think today they may loosen that up a bit and we can get over there to check things out before she gets back from New Orleans where she and a friend went to escape the storm (Okay, it might have been an excuse just to spend the weekend in New Orleans!). But as my neighbor said about one of her grown daughters it might have been better for her to be away than to have to deal with the stress of her being here and worrying!

My family in Houston is all safe and sound but they are (obviously) without power. My sister has not been able to check on her house which is on the backside of Galveston Bay. To get to her house she has to go through Kemah and Seabrook, two small cities that were heavily damaged by the storm surge. Hopefully the water did not reach her house. It does sit on a hill and is on piers so that may have helped. She is hoping to go look today but I kind of doubt she will be able to get through.

I feel so sorry for the folks in Houston. Rita came through three years ago and there are still scars from that storm. I can't imagine the time it will take to get things back together for such a large city as Houston. It's going to be hard because they are accustomed to going and doing at all hours of the day. Things will definitely be slowing down for them now.

And of course I also feel great sympathy for Galveston and the other areas that were hit. It's going to be a tough time for all of them.

Thank God there is not another storm brewing out there at the moment. I think all of us on the Gulf Coast are a bit storm-weary, emotionally, financially and physically.

Ayekah mentioned watching the video stream of one of our local OEP (Office of Emergency Preparedness) briefings. I really do think we have the best group of people working together on this. They learned a lot from Rita and then implemented what they learned. They also learned from Gustav and made changes in transporting people out to shelters who had way to transport themselves. It takes a lot of coordinating to arrange all these things before and after a storm. They all seem to work well together and do an excellent job.

Yikes! Ike!

Ike is huge. That is all there is to that.

We are staying home this time even though I have a feeling that is not the wisest choice we could have made. The university closed today at noon and hopefully we will be going back to work on Monday.

We are under a mandatory curfew which begins tomorrow morning at 10. They apparently think that is when the tropical force winds and the rain will start. We're on the bad side of the storm and if it moves any toward the east, things will only get worse.

We've got water and food, and books to read, and oil for our lamps, flashlights and batteries. It's probably going to be a long rough weekend.

My parents live in the same neighborhood as we do. We've got the generator and enough gas for a couple of nights of AC. If (when?) the power goes out, we will head down there to sleep.

All we do now is wait on Ike.

What will y'all be doing for the weekend??

My son and my sister and my aunt are all in Houston. They too will be waiting (along with all those other people who live in Houston who I do not know!). They are all at my aunt's house in Pasadena. As of now, I don't think they have been told to evacuate.

Better Safe Than Sorry

That's the new official motto of the Southwest Louisiana area, declared and so moved by me! Plus, the evacuation was mandatory and I wanted to do my civic duty by being obedient to the law.

When we left for Rita three years ago this month, we were laughing about all the trouble of evacuating for nothing (or so we thought!) and boasting that we'd be back in a day or two. When we left for Gustav, we were fretful and thinking we might be gone several weeks--and we were back in a day or two. Ya just never know.

The sad thing is, when you dodge the bullet, it usually means someone else has to take it. My heart goes out to the people who are now having to deal with the problems brought in by Gustav.

I was able to participate in a few shopping therapy groups and managed to get a few new books from Borders, a bookstore I'd never been in before--AND--I bought a Christmas gift, so I guess I can say I have officially started my Christmas shopping!!

We had a great time visiting with my sister and brother-in-law, but I am glad to be home.

Decision Made

After much debate, we are heading to my sister's house in Houston around 1:00 A.M. tonight, heeding a recommended evacuation. They have put off the decision for a mandatory evacuation until tomorrow at noon. I will be surprised if they don't order everyone out, so we are going to get ahead of the game a bit. We were going to the country like we did after Rita but the forecast looks like they may get a lot more wind and rain than they did last time.

We'll be near Flutterby's sister (Bacliff, Flutterby) in the Clear Lake area if she did not have to evacuate.

And Rach, if we have to leave Houston, can I bring my daughter, and my parents and my sister and her husband and my other two kids and my aunt, and one nephew and probably his girfriend? And oh yeah, SEVEN dogs??? Thanks so much for the hospitable offer!!

I'll be back when I can.

(Edited to add: I meant to leave the link to the TV station in case any of you are interested in seeing what is going on.-- www.kplctv.com

Gustav Update

We expect to hear sometime tomorrow whether we will have a mandatory evacuation. If it is mandatory, we will evacuate. We have 72 hours after they give the announcement to leave. We will be heading to the country again, about 75 miles away from here. Man, I hope we don't have to leave. The thought of getting in that line of traffic and taking over 8 hours to travel 75 miles...well, I suppose I speak for the entire Gulf coast when I say none of us wants to do any of this again. But we will, if need be.

Oh Good Grief

The totally unnerving thing is, they don't really know anything yet so they keep putting out their computer models with very broad predictions. Hardly anything can be known until it at least gets in the Gulf. I try very hard not to waste my energy on speculating what is going to happen, but it is hard not to get caught up in the drama. Everybody is antsy it seems, and for good reason I suppose.

But still, I'm not ready to hear about it, talk about it, or even make a decision as to whether we will stay or leave.



I'm gonna walk with courage all right. I'm gonna walk myself to my hall bath with no windows in the center of my house and I'm gonna bring some blankets and food and water and a twin bed mattress to hide under. I'm just kidding. It is too early to decide. For now I will stay calm and try to avoid the incessant drama of the news and weather reports.

PS In case it is not clear, I am talking about Hurricane Gustav.

Here is How it Went

His appointment was on Thursday. When he got to the office, no one was there except for one male secretary who knew nothing other than that the office was closed for All Saint's Day (can you imagine that?). It was very frustrating. The decision was made to stay another day and try to catch the man in the office on Friday. My husband and I were the naysayers on this decision. We figured the guy was taking a long weekend. Bottom line? The attorney was in on Friday and my son was able to meet with him. Things went well and the attorney told him he liked working with people who were doing what they needed to be doing. We still don't know how things will actually turn out yet, but this is good news.

(Also, I had briefly started emailing my comments when I responded to comments in my blog. I ain't doing that no more! It's too hard for me to keep up. My computer is running slow these days and trying to keep up with writing something every day is enough of a challenge for me.)

In addition--Re: 30 Days of Thanks-Day 2-- I could not post yesterday because my mouse was not working properly. Yesterday I was very thankful that I was wrong about my belief that the attorney was taking a long weekend!

Day 3's thanks will have to wait until more of the day has passed so I can see what I am thankful for.

Sometimes I wish I had these two guys on hand to help me keep up with myself....

Personal Announcement

My son is coming in on Wednesday for a meeting on Thursday with his (public defender) attorney. He wants to go by himself because he "created this problem" and he wants "to take care of it". That's a bit scary to me, but I am willing to let him go alone. You can rest assured we will be talking to the District Attorney again about the case. My hope is that he will be allowed to stay in Houston and report to them here from time to time, or whatever it takes to clear him. But this is one of those places where Mama just has to let go and trust (again!) He has made a lot of progress this last year or so. Dear God, may he continue to move forward and find his way in this world.

Making New Memories, Walking New Ground

Two years ago today...Rita. This photo was taken a month or two after the storm. Most of the debris was cleared away and the foundation was swept clean. Many people in Cameron Parish still live in FEMA trailers. There are still places around town where you can see that repairs have not been completed. I've seen commercials for a hotline number where you can call and talk about the storm and things. People in general seem to be recuperating and getting on with their lives.

I remember being fascinated with watching how people handled things after the storm. We all have storms in our lives, don't we?

We spent the weekend with my son, the first time we've been over there since he left the program. It was his birthday Saturday and we barbecued at my sister's on Sunday. I had all three of my kids together in one place. That doesn't happen much anymore. My parents were also in town for my father's eye checkup (all went well) so it was a big to-do. It was a good weekend.

Many thanks to all of you who have been so supportive with your comments. I have been neglectful in responding but they mean so much to me and I appreciate each one of you.

Please Pray

Those of you who pray, please pray hard. My son has left the facility where he has been staying. I have not talked to him yet so I don't know what is going on.

Dean

Actually, the words said "Hurricane forming near Gulf. Keep gas tanks full." These are electronic warning signs along the freeway in Houston. One of the news sources called them Amber Alert signs. The first one I see on the way in to Houston is in Winnie and it usually has information about the ferry that goes to Galveston because that is where you would get off the interstate if you wanted to go to Galveston by ferry.

The center where my son is staying has a plan in place. Occasionally I consider asking if he can be released to my aunt if Houston has to evacuate, but then I start to worry that he might get out of the groove and not want to come back. We visited Saturday and he seemed to be okay with whatever they do.

My husband left this morning for a business trip to Las Vegas. Yesterday one of the girls called saying her sister's mother's brother's baby mama works for the weather service and she said that Dean had moved into the Gulf and they were going to order mandatory evacuation Monday morning. She wanted my husband to call the head honcho and tell him. Hubby said he thought maybe she ought to tell that news.

I got all stirred up and tried to check Dean's location online and my computer was slow as molasses so I got a bit annoyed but eventually discovered that Dean was still in the Atlantic.That is the stuff that bugs me to death when a storm starts to form, all the hype that comes up while we wait to see what will happen. I suppose I should just consider it side show entertainment. I used to, but that was before Rita, before I had actually experienced an evacuation.

We'll know more Tuesday or Wednesday, I think.

Darn It Dean, Stop it With the Deja Vu

Waiting, again. This time, with a queasy feeling in my tummy. Last time, I never would have believed a hurricane would do us as much damage as Rita did.

I've got an email in to my son's counselor asking him if they have an evacuation plan in place, just in case.

Two years ago, Rita looked like she was heading to Houston and then turned toward Louisiana. It's still to early to tell what this one will do.

With my son and other family in Houston, and us in Louisiana, I am a bit antsy.

Rita, One of Many Storms (and Not All Were Hurricanes)

The gap has been closed.

The fence has been straightened. The two cedar trees are dim memories.

It's been a year and I have no words, only fragments of thought that may not make sense to anyone but me:

• When I pass that certain place on the interstate, I still see cars lined up for miles, each one moving so slowly that I could walk faster than they are moving.
• In that same place, I see my son and his buddies splitting off in an opposite direction from me. Something broke in my heart that day and I still feel that splintering.
• It all feels surreal.
• Honestly, there are days when I almost wish I had stayed and been blown away by the damn storm. It might have been easier than facing the "new normal" that all storms bring.
• While waiting to go home, I got so tired of hearing "we''ll come back stronger and better" that I wanted to smash that radio to bits, even though it was our only connection to my home.
• I'm here now, a year later with all my "stuff" intact, but my heart still hurts.
• I strongly dislike "new normals".

And yet, in spite of continuing pain, I would have to agree with the man who prayed this morning:

"Lord, thank You for the joys of this week. And thank you for the trials of this week too, for it is in the trials that we learn perseverance."

I would also add that it is in the trials that we learn the anchor holds.

Just in Case

There is anyone out there who does not know it, today is the first day of the rest of the 2006 Hurricane Season.


Here are the names of this year's players:

Alberto, Beryl, Chris, Debby, Ernesto, Florence, Gordon, Helene, Isaac, Joyce, Kirk, Leslie, Michael, Nadine, Oscar, Patty, Rafael, Sandy, Tony, Valerie, William.

Where Once There Were Trees

Now there is light.

(A little bit of background: The first two photos are of my parents' front yard. The tree that stood in front of the green trellis was a large oak. We posed the kids in front of it for Christmas photos. The dark shadow on the ground is from the only tree left standing in the front yard, an old cedar tree. The tree that stood where the clay pot sticks up out of the ground in the second photo was some sort of beech.

The last two photos are from my yard. Two cedars were removed, one from behind the fence, the other from directly behind where I am standing to take the photo. The shadow of the cedar tree blocked the view of the shadows on the fence.)

After the storm.

Now there is a green lattice wall with rose bushes waiting to bloom.

The clay pot sticking up out of the ground marks the spot where the beech tree stood. Now there is the play of sunshine and shadow on a mismatched fence.

Now the photographer knows there are things that can never be reclaimed after a storm. Sometimes one has to salvage what is left and walk on.

Evidence of Things Unseen

(everybody knows you can click on the picture to make it bigger, right?)

04/22/06 ADDENDUM:

Maybe a picture is not worth a thousand words. I really wanted the picture and the few words to speak for themselves. Maybe I need to explain my convoluted thought process...

This house was dropped on the side of the highway by the winds of Rita. I am not sure where it was originally located, not sure how far it was carried. If you look, you can see where the house is splitting, from having been unceremoniously dumped on unlevel ground, I suppose.

The words are part of poem I wrote, which never really got finished to my satisfaction. Several years ago, a preacher said something in a sermon about how the wind, though unseen, has never had to prove its existence.

Back when I was still in middle school, we were visiting an aunt and uncle who had a beach house on Dauphin Island. While we out there walking the beach a storm came up and the rain was one of those hard pelting rains. I don't think I will ever forget how the weather turned so dark so quickly and how menacing the waves of the Gulf looked as we all ran for cover. It almost felt traumatic to me at that time, hence the vivid imagery in the poem of panthers and gun shots and being held captive.

Disparate thoughts, but still, how come the existence of the unseen wind is widely known and accepted and yet the existence of the creator of the wind is so widely doubted?


Caught In The Storm, I Stand

Waves crouch behind me and spring,
a panther closing in and threatening.

Raindrops hit and burn, bullets falling
from a gun shot into a New Year’s sky.

The sand holds my feet, captive
of rain and wind and fire. I breathe fear.

I am a sister of Elijah, seeking the face
of Jehovah-Shammah, the Lord who is with me.

In the unseen breeze, I hear Him whisper
my name. He calls me His beloved.

The wind moves as it wishes,
has never had to prove its existence.

Cameron Parish

This past Saturday, we met my father-in-law and his "significant other" for the first time after the hurricane. Her house was flooded in the storm and she has decided to sell the property. She will buy a trailer and put it on her daughter's land a mile away from where she previously lived. The house was her family home. I questioned her about making the decision so soon to walk away from it all. Her mind is made up. The job of restoring the house to liveable condition would be too much for her to take on at this stage in her life in her opinion. So she is moving on, getting land elevation reports, preparing to raise the land to the new required level, to have electricity and sewerage connected, to have a well dug-- starting over at the ripe old age of seventy something.

My father-in-law lost his boat and his truck was damaged by the water. He has since bought another boat and will soon get his repaired truck back. He is crabbing again and says the crabbing is better than he has ever seen before. The down side to that is that the price he can get for crabs has gone down because the market is flooded.

On Sunday afternoon my youngest daughter and I drove to the camp where my son was staying before the hurricane. We thought we would see if we could get some of his clothes that he had left behind. He had come home for what was planned to be a two day visit before the storm and then Rita decided to drop by and so he never got to go back to the camp to bring all his clothing home.

The camp was nothing like it was before. The salt water from the storm surge left the pond full of stagnant water and mud. The camp itself had gotten water in it from the storm surge and when the surge flowed back to the marsh it left behind a stiff coating of dark marsh mud. We were able to go in and retrieve most of his clothing and I think the smell will come out with the wash (or perhaps two or three washes).

When we got to the small community where my son had been staying there were people milling about and working to clean things up. One of the most heart-wrenching scenes as we passed on the highway was a family sitting together watching a fire burn away the remants of what had been their home.

Driving in Cameron parish is still limited to daytime hours. The man at the checkpoint going in told me the speed limit was 45 miles per hour and warned me "about a cop named Butch who will give you a ticket for going 46 miles an hour". I set my cruise control and took no chances.

We took a few pictures where we could, mostly stopping in the road and snapping photos from the car since there was hardly any traffic on the road. I did not want to get off the main road for fear of "catching a flat" (as the Cajuns would say) from a loose nail and I did not want to linger anywhere and take a chance on looking like I might be looting. I also wanted to be respectful of the tremendous losses of these people so if there were people around I took no pictures.

Anyway, here they are, if you can stand more hurricane devastation images. I keep saying I am going to quit writing about this, it's all old news, but for many of these people, these hurricanes will forever be a dividing line in their lives -- life before the storm and a completely different life after the storm. It isn't over for them. It takes a while to rebuild a life.

Here are a couple of the before and after photos. I posted this one of the old house with a new roof not long ago. Now the roof is swaying, the windows are all out and the green shutters were blown off. Also note in the after photo the water in the background. I am not sure if it is water that is still standing from the storm surge or if their is a body of water back there that has surpassed its banks. Whatever it is, the water is not supposed to be there.

There were graves that were lifted up in at least one of the cemeteries. You can see the brown rubble the surge left behind. The salt water burned the vegetation. In a few other spots I could see the grass growing back already. I don't know how this statue withstoood the force of the water.
I have no idea what this is nor do I have any idea how it managed to get so neatly dropped over this tree.



There was a house here before the storm. Now all that is left are the beautiful old oak trees. The chimney remains and a bird sings from its perch, oblivious to the pain.
Steps leading nowhere.The Catholic Church and the Baptist Church.
These were the two things I looked for and did not find: This quaint little post office building and the cows that were in this pasture. We could not get our bearings straight to even see where the building had originally been located, could not even find the slab the it stood on.

You can see the cracked and dried up marsh mud in the foreground of the pasture picture. The salt water has killed all the vegetation. They may have been able to evacuate their cattle to higher ground but many of the cattle farmers lost all their cattle.

Word has it that the hunters are marveling over the number of ducks and gearing up for a good duck hunting season. I don't know how true it is, but someone said that the salt water has blinded the snakes and the turtles. Blind turtles may not cause too many problems, but the snakes are plentiful and unable to see. They will be a hazard to hunters who are out in the marsh preparing their duck blinds for hunting season.

Ya know, Dorothy, I just don't think we are in Kansas anymore. Obviously this house does not belong this close to the highway. I did not stop to examine whether the wicked witch's shoes were sticking out from underneath the house.

And here is the shadow of our car on the marsh grass as we are leaving Cameron parish. Such destruction. Such strong and determined people. So much work to do.

Befores and Afters

These are photos taken around the area where we evacuated, in rural Louisiana, near Six Mile Creek, close to Dido Community.

I spent some time Friday evening before the storm came walking around and taking pictures of my grandparent's house. I had no thoughts that the old house would be any different after the storm. I was just playing around with the patterns of light and enjoying fond memories.


This is what we always called the water shelf. Back in the day, a galvanized bucket filled with drinking water was kept here. There was a ladle in the bucket to drink from.


The tree hit the roof of the porch in about the same place I was standing the day before while taking pictures.


Notice the door? It is the one I have on my blog profile.

This is the breaking point of the tree that fell on the porch of my grandparent's house. It really didn't get uprooted. The top of the tree was twisted away from the bottom of the tree.

If a tree falls in the front yard and no one is awake to hear it, does it still make a noise? Apparently not. We all slept through the fall.


When the winds died down Saturday afternoon and we went out to see the sights, this crazy dog (his name is Junior, Senor) walked right up the trunk of this tree like he had been doing it all his life. It is hard to tell, but he is about ten feet off the ground.


I kid you not, I do not make these names up!

Ah well, life does go on.