Downtown remains eerily closed. Crews of workers are still pulling debris from propped-up storefronts, and most of the sidewalks are now free of the concrete-like mud that still covers a few spots like the one above. The tent city shown here is on the grounds of a nearby elementary school. The majority of its denizens are displaced Galveston homeowners with no place else to go. Neighbors surrounding the property are on edge, complaining of the huge lights that stay on all night for security and the litter they find in their yards. Although there has been no significant looting, a shooting occurred two days ago just outside this location. Apparently a homeowner across the street got into a verbal altercation with a tent resident who had been a homeowner about ten blocks away before losing his house. The homeowner pulled a pistol and fired, causing a non-lethal neck wound to the man from the tents. This underscores the nagging tension throughout the island. By my estimation, this is not PTSD we're seeing but mass complicated bereavement.
Last night we had dinner with some friends whose waterfront house was completely destroyed. He is a physician and medical director for American National Insurance. So there he is, every day, sitting at a makeshift desk in a temporary office, with no home to go home to, part of a company that's trying to cut its losses.
I finish my third glass of wine and remark how all that training I had as a psychiatrist plus working for the Red Cross for 3 months in a Katrina shelter did little to prepare me for what it's like to stand in line to get a handout of ice. (I cried when the National Guardsmen asked me if there was anything else they could help me with.)
A couple of small restaurants managed to open in last few days. We had lunch today at El Gusto, a small family-run place. The 'menu' was handwritten on a piece of legal pad. About a dozen choices, with no prices posted, but who cared. They have cold Mexican beer and a helluva attitude.
Enough of this. I've got a fence to go fix.
Cheers
Last night we had dinner with some friends whose waterfront house was completely destroyed. He is a physician and medical director for American National Insurance. So there he is, every day, sitting at a makeshift desk in a temporary office, with no home to go home to, part of a company that's trying to cut its losses.
I finish my third glass of wine and remark how all that training I had as a psychiatrist plus working for the Red Cross for 3 months in a Katrina shelter did little to prepare me for what it's like to stand in line to get a handout of ice. (I cried when the National Guardsmen asked me if there was anything else they could help me with.)
A couple of small restaurants managed to open in last few days. We had lunch today at El Gusto, a small family-run place. The 'menu' was handwritten on a piece of legal pad. About a dozen choices, with no prices posted, but who cared. They have cold Mexican beer and a helluva attitude.
Enough of this. I've got a fence to go fix.
Cheers
1 comment:
You are absolutely right about the absence of press on Ike. Right now there is still more out there about Katrina than Ike. It might have something to do with the fact that people put their all into Katrina and are now caught up in the economic crisis and the election. I wish you all the best. Sounds like you need it.
Judy
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