Galveston on the Today Show

Don't know how long this link will be available, but if you didn't see Al Roker in Galveston this week, click on this:
http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/26184891/vp/31523928#31523928

If you can't click on it, then copy and paste it to your browser. It's touching and shows how a community organization (Help4Galveston.org)can make great things happen.

There are two sequential segments, so keep the Today Show website running past the first segment to see more about the Aircraft Museum in Galveston as well as some locals.

A Time For Reflection

And so it goes. We now enter the next hurricane season with our house very near complete repair. We still need some painting done, and the burglar alarm is a bit finicky, but ADT promises to have that fixed next week. The plumbing works, the lights and A/C all operate as they are supposed to. Most of our plants and trees are coming back, and those that didn’t make it have been dug up and disposed of.
We have been compensated, albeit insufficiently, for the stuff the creeps stole. We will likely replace very little of it. This is a time in life when accumulation is not a good thing. We are still awaiting compensation from our flood insurance. I am promised I will see a check sometime in the next week or so. Both my general contractor and I will appreciate its arrival since all the subs have been paid out of his pocket and mine.
We head back to cooler climates this weekend, leaving the hatching mosquitoes to our new crop of maturing tadpoles, now overpopulating my fish pond. We will go back without a dog, having given ourselves a year to work through how another canine would fit into our lifestyle.
Galveston continues to revive. The beaches are packed with summer vacationers (most likely Texans who find the economics of a trip closer to home especially attractive this year). So much the better for our island. New businesses open weekly on The Strand, and what was a ghost town just four months ago, now looks almost as good as it did before that fateful day last September.
The analyses seem to be over. I’ve watched programs on the Weather Channel and the History Channel now, comparing Ike similarly to the 1900 Storm. Both were essentially Category 2-3 winds with storm surges that exceeded all other measured storms in history. One could conjecture that it will be another century before we see such a storm again, but for those of us who experienced Ike, even this coming summer feels ominous.
Nevertheless, the town is cheerful again. People still want to talk about it, but their behaviors are more inward now, less preoccupied with the welfare of their neighbors and more engaged in what are the needs of their own. Such is the norm for the human condition and not to be gauged as a sign of growing community indifference; just everyone going about their business as usual. We all will remember and talk about Ike for years to come. You’ll just have to ask.
I have not decided whether to keep posting on this blog. It may well be that enough is enough. The saga is over and the Barnharts are moving on. But we’ll be back, of course. For as far back as anyone can remember, there has been a certain prestige associated with being ‘BOI’ (Born On the Island). More recently another acronym has appeared: IBC (Islander By Choice). Such would be us. We may be fortunate enough to escape the summer’s heat to more hospitable climes, but come autumn we’ll yearn for the island and once again return.

Spring reflections

It looks like Hurricane Ike may have killed an estimated 31,000 Galveston trees on private property and an additional 11,000 on the city right of way. Quite a bit more than my simple-minded guess in the last post. The Texas Forest Service estimates that the cost of removing the trees from the public right of way will be $706,000.

The estimates are based on a two-day survey conducted last week by the Forest Service, the Galveston County AgriLife Extension Service and master gardener volunteers. The team surveyed 9.5 miles of trees, recording those with 50 percent or less of canopy.

Kay Bailey Hutchison and John Cornyn sent a letter last week to President Obama asking him to have FEMA extend the deadline for Texas claims. Guess this is where "Big Government" isn't so bad. even in the eyes of Texas Republicans.

Taking down all those trees is an emotional issue for many Galvestonians, and there is some urging to give the trees longer to recover. Roger Johnson, city parks superintendent, said the city would try to save as many trees as possible and to wait as long as possible before starting the cutting.

Things are looking up at UTMB. It would appear that the Texas Legislature has had sufficient pressure from neighboring counnties to get John Sealy Hospital back running as soon as possible. In spite of the storm, the medical school recruited medical students and residents of the same quality as pre-Ike and looks forward to remaining the top Texas medical school in National Board scores of its grads.

Our house is very close to finished. The burglar alarm isn't working yet, the dishwasher and a shower still leak. The ongoing issues with insurance companies are unresolved but appear to be moving in the right direction. We now have an SUV with a trailer hitch, and I hope to get the boat back in the bay for it's maiden run after Ike today.

Kathy is in Charleston for a week with her girlfriends, taking a break from the house and me. The Harley is about half reassembled, and my brother has adopted the 1967 BSA to re-restore after the flood.

It's been interesting to live without all the stuff that got stolen. I've replaced one TV and will buy one more. I'll probably replace the deer rifle but not the others. I'm living with fewer watches and still seem to know the time. Ditto for most of the other stuff. Seems our life needed a little thinning out anyway.

I've seen a number of new birds in the yard. This is time for many major migrations to move through the area, and our yard has always attracted birds, both for feeding and nesting. This morning, as I sat in my spa, a beautiful male indigo bunting perched very near me. Seems with only one's head protruding from the water, the human profile is not particularly threatening to most birds.

The local cemeteries do not mow this time of year so the wildflowers can take over. For those with an appreciation for history and natural beauty, a stroll through a Galveston boneyard is a nice way to spend an hour of springtime.


Cheers

Signs of life -- and not

The island is a'buzz - literally. About half the homes in our neighborhood are works in progress with the sound of power tools throughout. The other half are occupied, so one can assume that in another few months most everyone will be back. Amazingly, there are only two homes out of about fifty for sale. Looks like the insurance money is finally trickling in. We've seen only a fraction of what it has cost to get our house back in shape but our ordeal with the insurance companies is far from finished. We got hot water yesterday in all but one bathroom. Otherwise, with the exception of some needed painting and patch-up, we're looking okay.

The Texas Forest Service comes to Galveston next week to assess our poor oaks lining Broadway, the main drag into town. The oaks were either planted after the 1900 storm or after the 1912 storm, the more senior denizens I've asked aren't sure. They've flourished through every adversity since - til Ike. There are no new leaves on a hundred of these bare old-timers, and spring long ago sprung on the rest of the island.

The oaks, like the oleanders, the beach, and Old Red at the medical school, have been the talk of concern since the storm. The oleanders had little trouble coming back, and the beaches have never looked better. Old Red was built in 1890 on a foundation of deeply dug giant stones that 'floated' during the Ike's flood. The building is now quietly, slowly settling under the watchful eye of engineers that know about this stuff. It is not inhabited as the settling process continues, but everyone is optimistic that it will return to its former stability within a year.
That leaves only the oaks to symbolize the lasting damage.

UTMB is rehiring. The legislature is in what appears to be the final processes of approving appropriate funding for rebuilding the hospital beyond its former first-class status as a teaching institution. Like our neighborhood, most of the island is in a rebuilding phase with the tents gone and the little FEMA trailer neighborhoods nicely maintained. All the housing projects in town (which were eyesores) are being razed, and in their place will be new duplexes, designed in the architectural mode of the island during the nineteenth century. New made to look old - such is the way things are going here.

Those old oaks may have to go. Too bad nobody's yet figured out how to make a sapling look like it's been there for a century.

Time to head back to Galveston

Ah, nothing like looking forward to a nice drive home to warm weather -- balmy days, walks on the beach, fish in the bay, golf on the links, jogging in shorts, bicycling along the seawall. Enough of this cold weather; ski season's over.

Start early in the morning....before the sun's up....in spite of the blowing snow. Oops!






The good news - Kathy and I escaped unscathed. Just one more insurance claim to add to the list....

Obituary For A Dog

March 8, 2009

Perhaps it’s the catharsis that comes with reminiscence that makes us want to eulogize our departed loved one – even if it’s ‘just a dog’.

Molly came to us in 1998. We heard she was rescued from a small apartment porch where she’d been neglected for some time. When we got her she was skin and bones, recovering from heartworms. The vet said she was a young adult, probably three or four years old. It took her no time to understand who her two managers were, and for the first time in her life she had rules. Labs love rules.

She had never set foot off hard floors and concrete, so grass was a novelty. I’ll never forget that first summer we took her to the mountains. We discovered that in addition to having never experienced grass, uneven terrain was equally novel. She would run down a hill, turn and run back up, only to run down again. Dogs don’t exactly smile, but everyone knows what a happy dog face looks like. Molly had that face most of her life.

Like most labs with two managers, Molly preferred to be in between. On cross-country ski outings, she preferred to run back and forth between us, checking to be sure we were all on the same path. At home, with one manager in the kitchen and the other in the study, she’d position herself in the hallway where she could be at the beck and call of either of us.

As her life progressed, so did her extended family. She welcomed a son-in-law and a daughter-in-law. By the time of her passing, she had three granddaughters to dote on her and tend to her various geriatric idiosyncrasies.

A dog like this deserved to die at home, and so it was that after an agonizing night of discomfort, her managers took on the mantle of true decision-makers and made an early morning call to the veterinarian. Would we have the vet begin a hydrating i.v. and boost the narcotics for comfort, or would we opt for a humane euthanizing end to her ordeal? As we waited for the return call from the vet to signal when we would take her in for the choice, Molly made the decision for us. With three generations of humans around her, she took a final sigh and lay down for the last time.

Some things are looking up

Mardi Gras week is winding down with Fat Tuesday (Mardi Gras) tomorrow. We have attended a few over-the-top parties, and I have been able to eschew every parade this year. Galvestonians have succeeded in putting aside the rebuilding distractions and shown they can still party well.

The island has a long way to go, but the beach restoration is really beginning to look good. This picture was taken today along the seawall. This is a penninsula of sand that has been trucked out. As you can see, it's a couple of hundred feet out into the water. It is currently about thirty feet wide and as sand is added, it will spread laterally, all up and down the seawall. In other words, the beach will extend out into the Gulf that much farther. What is now the end of that peninsula will be the end of the ocean's shore. About 25% of the beach has already been done, leaving a beautiful sandy beach where Ike's erosion had been. All this sand is coming from the east end of the island where sand naturally accumulates.

The Strand is also coming back as more and more stores open. The hope is to have a semblance of normalcy by Spring Break.

More good news is the positive responses from both the Board of Regents of UT and the Texas Legislature to further financial commitments to bring UTMB back to its previous levels of high functioning sooner rather than later. There are still political hurdles to broach, but optimism is beginning to take hold.

Our house remains a mess. We continue to deal with insurance adjusters over the storm damage and now the looting. We will be returning to Crested Butte next week, never having slept in our house. Ah well, things should be much better when we return next. Right?

A Confederacy of Dunces

If John Kennedy Toole hadn’t commited suicide, he’d be 71 today. I look around and think, as we all have done from time to time, “We’ll laugh about this someday.”

I feel like Ignatius Reilly, looking out at those surrounding me:

The gas company is here. They’ve been here all day. They said they were going to replace my gas meter since it was covered with sea water. They said it would take two hours. It’s been six hours, and they’ve dug four holes in my yard. They told me that four of them would be back tomorrow. The old meter is still in place.

The electrical contractors estimated it would take the good part of a week to rewire my house after the flood permeated all the old wiring. This is the third week. They’ve cracked the plaster around most of the old switch plates but assure me they have a ‘craftsman’ who can make them look ‘just like new’. That’s what I want, all right – an eighty year-old house with paint patches that look new. They think they might be finished by the end of the week. “Next week at the latest,” they said. We’re living in the only electrified portion of our house, our game room, on an inflatable bed, between the pool table and the bar.

The police were here again today. I showed them a footprint, two windows the creeps tried to open after cutting the screen, and a soda can, contents half-finished. The two detectives scratched their chins and told me they weren’t ‘the I.D. guy’ so they couldn’t say whether additional fingerprints or other evidence would be wanted. After a collective shrug and an affirmative nod at each other, they left. So I’ve walked all over the footprint and will pour out the unfinished Sprite and recycle the aluminum.

Comcast sent out a technician to hook up my internet connection. He told me how underpaid he was, then pulled on a few wires and asked me to initial a piece of paper in three places. He said if I had any trouble with my internet connection I should call the number at the top of the receipt. Surprise. The internet didn’t work. I called the number and a guy named Chad answered. He asked me my name and I gave it to him. He called me Mr. Clifton. (You have to remember in most of Asia the surname comes first.) Chad politely told me I had several things wrong and that they would need to send out a technician. I told him the technician had just left. Chad laughed. “Mr. Charles, we’ll send out an even better technician next week.”

I was on the phone with my insurance adjuster for about an hour about the robbery. It's obvious our losses will exceed the deductible. Of course it was all recorded. I tried not to sound paranoid as she feigned interest in my plight and prodded for details about our absence from the house. I'm pretty sure she's going to try to establish that the house was temporarily abandoned. Quickly, my recollection of details began to resemble the memory Alberto Gonzales under Congressional inquiry.

So as it was with Ignatius Reilly, and with Jonathan Swift before him, I must confess, today I share their epigraph: “When genius appears in the world, you may know him by this sign, that the dunces are all in confederacy against him."

Cheers

Kick me while I'm down

Last night somebody broke into our Galveston house. We're in Crested Butte. It was probably more than one guy, and they seemed to know what they were doing. They managed to get every flat screen TV, my liquor, our jewelry and watches, all 6 of my guns, etc. They went through every pocket of every jacket and pair of pants. They even took a break (after breaking into my game room) to drink my Jack Daniels and shoot some pool. Then they went next door and broke into my neighbors' home.

For those of you who have yet to deal with filing a claim on your homeowner's policy, here's an eye opener. You have, I'm certain, 'replacement value' insurance. In other words, the insurance company should pay you what it costs to replace something rather than its depreciated value. Good, right? But wait -- first you have to pony up a deductible that's 1% of the value of your house. That's going to be thousands of dollars. Then, and here's the good part, you make a list of what's gone and provide receipts and photos to prove you own them. No receipts or photos? Could well mean you aren't covered. Do you have photos of the sterling silverware you got thirty years ago? I don't. How about the watch you bought after your last foray through the house taking pictures?

Next you file your claim and they pay you. But hold on: here's how they pay you - They pay you the depreciated value. Then you have to go repurchase exactly what was stolen. You give them the receipt, then they give you the rest of the money. Nice, huh?

We were going back to Galveston this weekend anyway for a break from the cold for a few weeks. Now we get to go through our house and try to first identify everything that's gone, then go through old records to see if we can prove up what got ripped off.

As Kathy always says, "It's only stuff." She's right, of course. But it's more than 'only stuff'. It's that godawful feeling of being violated. When Mother Nature does it, you can at least shrug it off to natural forces. When people do it, it inevitably tarnishes whatever faith in your fellow man you've managed to retain.