While ruminating my way through the financial news of the morning paper, a random word popped into my head: Jubilee.
Suddenly, it struck me that large numbers of Americans consider this country a product of our Judeo-Christian heritage, so why not implement a Judeo-Christian concept in this time of crisis?
In Leviticus 25, God requires that every 50th years be a year of jubilee. It was to be a time of joy, when land was to be returned to its original owners (i.e. the land proportioned out to each family of the Israelites after the exodus), slaves and prisoners were to be freed (and in that time, most slaves or prisoners were in that position because of debt), when debts were to be forgiven, and the mercies of God would be particularly apparent.
Over the centuries, Jubilee hasn't particularly been a part of our religious practice, but what if we took this biblical concept and put it into practice in our current fiscal crisis? Just reset the financial clock to zero?
Of course, you'd have to modify it a bit so that people wouldn't be tossed out of their homes. But what if everyone had a clean slate to begin anew? I believe that was God's intent in establishing the jubilee year: Sins forgiven, debts forgiven, a return to the starting point of one's heritage.
Oh! It wouldn't be easy, and those who would lose funds from the repayment of debts would squawk. Their pockets wouldn't be as richly lined as they'd want them to be.
But let's consider something. Many of the people who are in over their heads have gotten there due to circumstances beyond their control (health issues and layoffs come to mind) or have been preyed upon by predatory lenders who change the rules of the game whenever it looks like someone might actually pay their way out from under their thumbs. Those financial institutions will likely end up without a dime, or at most a few shekels, from those who owe them money due to bankruptcies or plain and simple default. Why not just set the debt account back to zero and give everyone a restart?
Then there wouldn't be a need for multi-billion dollar bailouts. Those who have been financially oppressed might begin to see hope for the future and engage in possibilities that improve their lives and the lives of others. I think God was aware of how seriously draining ongoing financial difficulties are. I believe that's why God commanded and hoped that humanity would take the opportunity every 50 years to exhibit the incredible mercy which is in God's nature.
Sure, Jubilee didn't seem to make it beyond the words passed down through scripture over the centuries.
That makes it easier for us to start now. Who knows? According to God's time, this may actually be a year of jubilee.
Why not claim our Judeo-Christian heritage and give Jubilee a try?
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
When Pigs Fly
Got up this morning and wandered out to the driveway to get the newspaper as I usually do. Slipped it out of its plastic sheath to see these words over one of the above-the-fold stories:
Disaster bill on fast track in Congress
I won't use the language that ran through my head as I read this headline. It's not particularly pastor-like.
We're THREE YEARS out from Hurricane Rita and there are still too mucho major dollars hanging around that haven't gotten to the people who needed it THEN, and even that took waaaaaaaaaaaay too long to make it through the sludge factory that oozes assistance through the governmental process.
It's a good thing my faith lies elsewhere, because it certainly isn't in the people who make such statements of "quickly" and then leave the area to languish on the brink after they've gotten away from the place where their sound bites have the most visibility.
In all fairness, much has happened quicker this time than it did after Rita. Shoot! It's only 12 days after the storm and I have power.
But further into the paper is an editorial by Dan Rather that points out that once again our hard hit area is being overshadowed by another hurricane and the admittedly difficult financial situation our country is facing. What does that say about how our assistance programs are run when the 4th largest city in the country slides into national oblivion?
Oh! We haven't dropped completely off the map yet, and probably won't until the next disaster pops up. What angers me is that I've already seen with my own eyes the "speed of snail" pace which usually leads to further deterioration of a damaged home and damaged heart and soul. I am angry and fearful that we will see the same thing this time.
When do you think I should begin to believe the fragile promises of quick relief? When pigs fly.
When pigs fly.
Disaster bill on fast track in Congress
I won't use the language that ran through my head as I read this headline. It's not particularly pastor-like.
We're THREE YEARS out from Hurricane Rita and there are still too mucho major dollars hanging around that haven't gotten to the people who needed it THEN, and even that took waaaaaaaaaaaay too long to make it through the sludge factory that oozes assistance through the governmental process.
It's a good thing my faith lies elsewhere, because it certainly isn't in the people who make such statements of "quickly" and then leave the area to languish on the brink after they've gotten away from the place where their sound bites have the most visibility.
In all fairness, much has happened quicker this time than it did after Rita. Shoot! It's only 12 days after the storm and I have power.
But further into the paper is an editorial by Dan Rather that points out that once again our hard hit area is being overshadowed by another hurricane and the admittedly difficult financial situation our country is facing. What does that say about how our assistance programs are run when the 4th largest city in the country slides into national oblivion?
Oh! We haven't dropped completely off the map yet, and probably won't until the next disaster pops up. What angers me is that I've already seen with my own eyes the "speed of snail" pace which usually leads to further deterioration of a damaged home and damaged heart and soul. I am angry and fearful that we will see the same thing this time.
When do you think I should begin to believe the fragile promises of quick relief? When pigs fly.
When pigs fly.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Ain't It Amazing?
This may be scattershot and a bit rambling, but here are some ruminations from our return from exodus and exile:
The boy, the dog, and I returned home yesterday evening to a house with no power and houses all around us running noisy generators. After we brought everything back inside, our next task was opening windows to get as much of a cross-breeze as was available. Fortunately, Ike left cool weather in his wake, not like Rita, who left us to swelter.
Damage to the house appears to be minimal, but I'll be a lot happier after the first rain. That way I can find any mysterious leaks that might still exist. Today as I went through the garage, I found all sorts of dead worms. I'm not sure if they were blown into the garage by the storm or water brought them into the garage or they just tried to get away from the rain and crawled into the first dry spot they found. Some of them made it pretty far into the garage before dying, so I'm a bit skeptical about that last option.
We had to put the dog in a kennel while we were in Duncanville because my sister-in-law is quite allergic to dog dander. On the trip back home, she kept sneezing and is having a truly snorky time of it even now. She's still eating and acting mostly ok, but I'm a bit worried about her. We may be making a visit to the vet's tomorrow, if he's up and running.
Last night, I ended up sleeping on the couch, because the Penster wouldn't sleep in the coolest part of the house by herself. She wanted to sleep near me, but managed to ensconce herself in the most inextricable places and then honk and snork. She sounded so pitiful. At least when we got someplace cooler, she rested a little better, even though she still honks and snorks.
We had worship this morning, all 9 of us. That wasn't quite everyone who was in town, but it was a fair representation of us. Mostly it was a time of sharing "storm stories" and talking about how Rita and Ike were similar, but different. Several of us are having a difficult time with the experiences related to the noise of generators and, especially, chain saws, and seeing blue tarps once again decorating so many roofs.
Yet in the midst of all that has come up again because of Ike, we've once again found the presence of God. "This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!" Be glad that the vast majority of us came through the storm in much better shape than after Rita. Be glad that here it is only a week since the storm came through and power is returning so quickly this time. It was 3 weeks after Rita before the power crews were even close to my house. Be glad that there is a cool breeze to help us survive the time without the electrical power we've gotten so used to having.
It was an odd feeling when the electricity came back on today. I was truly enjoying the open windows and the gentle breeze and the lack of constant news streams about this, that and the other about the aftermath of Ike. There was a sense of peace that I can't quite put my finger on, even though there was the sound of generators in the background. It was pleasant to lie on the couch and read a book, just relaxing. Of course, no one said we had to close the windows and doors once the power came back on. However, it seemed to be a good idea, since the dog was having such a difficult time honking and snorking.
I've also been blessed with a wonderful son! When we got home yesterday, after taking pictures with his phone camera because mine had died, he started removing downed limbs from the yard. This morning, he got up and went to the store and bought the last axe they had. He spent the rest of the morning and first part of the afternoon hacing away at the limbs too big to move and the limb that straddled the powerline into the house. It's not all out at the curb yet, but he managed to accomplish most of the task.
Right now, I'm looking out the sliding glass door and noticing the "thinness" of the trees. Rita thinned them out a good bit. But Ike has taken even more out. It's strange to see the sky through what's left. Thinking back on today, the sun has seemed, well, more present. It is an odd feeling.
Hurricanes and natural disasters seem to do that - leave you with an odd feeling. In time it will go away. It did after Rita. In the meantime, I guess we'll just have to live with the odd.
The boy, the dog, and I returned home yesterday evening to a house with no power and houses all around us running noisy generators. After we brought everything back inside, our next task was opening windows to get as much of a cross-breeze as was available. Fortunately, Ike left cool weather in his wake, not like Rita, who left us to swelter.
Damage to the house appears to be minimal, but I'll be a lot happier after the first rain. That way I can find any mysterious leaks that might still exist. Today as I went through the garage, I found all sorts of dead worms. I'm not sure if they were blown into the garage by the storm or water brought them into the garage or they just tried to get away from the rain and crawled into the first dry spot they found. Some of them made it pretty far into the garage before dying, so I'm a bit skeptical about that last option.
We had to put the dog in a kennel while we were in Duncanville because my sister-in-law is quite allergic to dog dander. On the trip back home, she kept sneezing and is having a truly snorky time of it even now. She's still eating and acting mostly ok, but I'm a bit worried about her. We may be making a visit to the vet's tomorrow, if he's up and running.
Last night, I ended up sleeping on the couch, because the Penster wouldn't sleep in the coolest part of the house by herself. She wanted to sleep near me, but managed to ensconce herself in the most inextricable places and then honk and snork. She sounded so pitiful. At least when we got someplace cooler, she rested a little better, even though she still honks and snorks.
We had worship this morning, all 9 of us. That wasn't quite everyone who was in town, but it was a fair representation of us. Mostly it was a time of sharing "storm stories" and talking about how Rita and Ike were similar, but different. Several of us are having a difficult time with the experiences related to the noise of generators and, especially, chain saws, and seeing blue tarps once again decorating so many roofs.
Yet in the midst of all that has come up again because of Ike, we've once again found the presence of God. "This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!" Be glad that the vast majority of us came through the storm in much better shape than after Rita. Be glad that here it is only a week since the storm came through and power is returning so quickly this time. It was 3 weeks after Rita before the power crews were even close to my house. Be glad that there is a cool breeze to help us survive the time without the electrical power we've gotten so used to having.
It was an odd feeling when the electricity came back on today. I was truly enjoying the open windows and the gentle breeze and the lack of constant news streams about this, that and the other about the aftermath of Ike. There was a sense of peace that I can't quite put my finger on, even though there was the sound of generators in the background. It was pleasant to lie on the couch and read a book, just relaxing. Of course, no one said we had to close the windows and doors once the power came back on. However, it seemed to be a good idea, since the dog was having such a difficult time honking and snorking.
I've also been blessed with a wonderful son! When we got home yesterday, after taking pictures with his phone camera because mine had died, he started removing downed limbs from the yard. This morning, he got up and went to the store and bought the last axe they had. He spent the rest of the morning and first part of the afternoon hacing away at the limbs too big to move and the limb that straddled the powerline into the house. It's not all out at the curb yet, but he managed to accomplish most of the task.
Right now, I'm looking out the sliding glass door and noticing the "thinness" of the trees. Rita thinned them out a good bit. But Ike has taken even more out. It's strange to see the sky through what's left. Thinking back on today, the sun has seemed, well, more present. It is an odd feeling.
Hurricanes and natural disasters seem to do that - leave you with an odd feeling. In time it will go away. It did after Rita. In the meantime, I guess we'll just have to live with the odd.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
A Strange Perspective of Time
I’m not sure whether it is a blessing or a curse to have experienced another significant hurricane so recently. The weather nerds all say that an upper level Category x storm is the equivalent of the next higher category. So, by that definition, Southeast Texas has experienced two Category 3 hurricanes within the past 3 years. In such a situation, what would any normal brain do? Why … try to expect the exact same things to happen after each of them, of course!
Unfortunately, my brain seems to have retained a somewhat skewed perception of the events immediately after Her Horribleness and what’s happening now after HIS Horribleness. What makes it even more difficult to deal with is that both Rita and Ike hit the area in almost the same time frame at almost exactly the same time of the same month in almost the exact concurrence of two major storms within a short period of time. Katrina clobbered Louisiana about 3 weeks before Rita, while Gustav hit southwest Louisiana just 2 weeks before Ike. YIKES!
So, of course, our experience of the two storms must be exactly the same. Right? … Wrong.
Certainly, there are some similarities. I’ve already mentioned a few. Another is that, for the most part, southeast Texas seems to be once again overshadowed by the devastation experienced elsewhere. If you watch the major news channels, Galveston, Bolivar Peninsula, and Houston receive the vast majority of the coverage, while Beaumont, Bridge City, and Orange may crop up in passing. My brain screams “Not fair! Not fair!” at the tv set.
There are differences as well. When Rita came roaring through Sabine Pass, we ended up on the “clean” side of the storm. There was some storm surge in the area, but most of the devastation experienced by the area was wind damage. With Ike … well, we got the “dirty” side of the storm. I knew that water was insidious and capable of major destruction. But I don’t think I ever really realized that water coming up into an area with such deceptive slowness could produce such incredible damage as what I’ve seen in the pictures of Bridge City and elsewhere along the coast. It totally boggles the mind.
If I really put my thinking cap on, I’m able to remember that 3 days after Rita hit we were almost as clueless about what’s going to happen and when as it feels we are right now. About now, someone might be asking, “Well, didn’t we learn something from Rita? Can’t we do it better this time around?” I have a feeling we did, and probably are doing it better this time around, but it doesn’t feel that way because there are differences between the two storms.
Stop and think for a moment. When Rita hit, the vast majority of the community had evacuated and only a very few souls remained in town. In my congregation, only one family weathered the storm in their home, and only one family who came back before the third day after the storm. This time, about a third of our congregation stayed in their homes while Ike roared through. They’ve experienced the immediate desolation and lack of resources, information, and air conditioning. True, within the first week after Rita, there were just as many, if not more, back in the 100+ degree heat, which we haven’t had this time around. (Praise God!!) But by having so many in town to experience the aftermath so quickly, it seems as though we should already have power and clean water and sewage and full grocery stores and on and on right now!
I find myself getting really frustrated because I’m not back in Beaumont yet. When Rita hit, on the day she hit, I was able to make it back to Texas from my meeting in California and, on Sunday, I made it to Mom’s in Houston. I was just a hop, skip and a jump away from getting back home. This time, it will be at least a 4 ½ hour drive to get there, and I won’t have the easy resources of Mom’s electricity, phone, and internet connection to fall back on. Her home is in about the same shape as mine: powerless, grocery-store-less, resourceless.
I have to remind myself that it’s only been 3 days since the storm came through. At 3 days after Rita, we had National Guard personnel posted at the exits to town and no one could easily go in or out. That has not been true this time around. We’ve actually gotten a bit more information and a bit more healing happening a bit more quickly than it did after Rita. Who would have ever imagined that Lumberton would have power by now? Or downtown Beaumont? By the first Sunday worship after Rita, we were still without power at the church. They’ve already had power for two days this time around!
I have to remind myself that the first day we were permitted to come in, take a quick look, and get out after Rita was almost exactly a week after the storm. I already know that my house doesn’t have a tree through the roof, and I knew that on Monday. My backdoor neighbor was able to see what damage had occurred and called me to let me know. What a blessing!
Yes, we’ve had two somewhat similar storms happen way too closely for my comfort zone. Yes, there’s still the frustration of not having things happen as quickly as we’d like them to. Yes, I’m Oh! Sooooo! ready to be in my own home with everything back to normal, once again.
But I’m beginning to realize that we’re Oh! So! Blessed this time around in so many ways. Sure, there are glitches as things which didn’t happen during Rita, like the major flooding, are being addressed this time around in the different ways that are now called for.
Yet I’m reminded that God is truly in the midst of this experience - walking alongside us, mourning losses, feeling our frustration, calming fears, bringing sanity back when it feels that we can’t handle any more. I guess there’s one more similarity between those two storms: We made it through Rita with God’s help as communities have come together to help each other stitch up the wounds and heal the injuries we‘ve sustained. I’m pretty sure we’ll make it through Ike the same way.
Unfortunately, my brain seems to have retained a somewhat skewed perception of the events immediately after Her Horribleness and what’s happening now after HIS Horribleness. What makes it even more difficult to deal with is that both Rita and Ike hit the area in almost the same time frame at almost exactly the same time of the same month in almost the exact concurrence of two major storms within a short period of time. Katrina clobbered Louisiana about 3 weeks before Rita, while Gustav hit southwest Louisiana just 2 weeks before Ike. YIKES!
So, of course, our experience of the two storms must be exactly the same. Right? … Wrong.
Certainly, there are some similarities. I’ve already mentioned a few. Another is that, for the most part, southeast Texas seems to be once again overshadowed by the devastation experienced elsewhere. If you watch the major news channels, Galveston, Bolivar Peninsula, and Houston receive the vast majority of the coverage, while Beaumont, Bridge City, and Orange may crop up in passing. My brain screams “Not fair! Not fair!” at the tv set.
There are differences as well. When Rita came roaring through Sabine Pass, we ended up on the “clean” side of the storm. There was some storm surge in the area, but most of the devastation experienced by the area was wind damage. With Ike … well, we got the “dirty” side of the storm. I knew that water was insidious and capable of major destruction. But I don’t think I ever really realized that water coming up into an area with such deceptive slowness could produce such incredible damage as what I’ve seen in the pictures of Bridge City and elsewhere along the coast. It totally boggles the mind.
If I really put my thinking cap on, I’m able to remember that 3 days after Rita hit we were almost as clueless about what’s going to happen and when as it feels we are right now. About now, someone might be asking, “Well, didn’t we learn something from Rita? Can’t we do it better this time around?” I have a feeling we did, and probably are doing it better this time around, but it doesn’t feel that way because there are differences between the two storms.
Stop and think for a moment. When Rita hit, the vast majority of the community had evacuated and only a very few souls remained in town. In my congregation, only one family weathered the storm in their home, and only one family who came back before the third day after the storm. This time, about a third of our congregation stayed in their homes while Ike roared through. They’ve experienced the immediate desolation and lack of resources, information, and air conditioning. True, within the first week after Rita, there were just as many, if not more, back in the 100+ degree heat, which we haven’t had this time around. (Praise God!!) But by having so many in town to experience the aftermath so quickly, it seems as though we should already have power and clean water and sewage and full grocery stores and on and on right now!
I find myself getting really frustrated because I’m not back in Beaumont yet. When Rita hit, on the day she hit, I was able to make it back to Texas from my meeting in California and, on Sunday, I made it to Mom’s in Houston. I was just a hop, skip and a jump away from getting back home. This time, it will be at least a 4 ½ hour drive to get there, and I won’t have the easy resources of Mom’s electricity, phone, and internet connection to fall back on. Her home is in about the same shape as mine: powerless, grocery-store-less, resourceless.
I have to remind myself that it’s only been 3 days since the storm came through. At 3 days after Rita, we had National Guard personnel posted at the exits to town and no one could easily go in or out. That has not been true this time around. We’ve actually gotten a bit more information and a bit more healing happening a bit more quickly than it did after Rita. Who would have ever imagined that Lumberton would have power by now? Or downtown Beaumont? By the first Sunday worship after Rita, we were still without power at the church. They’ve already had power for two days this time around!
I have to remind myself that the first day we were permitted to come in, take a quick look, and get out after Rita was almost exactly a week after the storm. I already know that my house doesn’t have a tree through the roof, and I knew that on Monday. My backdoor neighbor was able to see what damage had occurred and called me to let me know. What a blessing!
Yes, we’ve had two somewhat similar storms happen way too closely for my comfort zone. Yes, there’s still the frustration of not having things happen as quickly as we’d like them to. Yes, I’m Oh! Sooooo! ready to be in my own home with everything back to normal, once again.
But I’m beginning to realize that we’re Oh! So! Blessed this time around in so many ways. Sure, there are glitches as things which didn’t happen during Rita, like the major flooding, are being addressed this time around in the different ways that are now called for.
Yet I’m reminded that God is truly in the midst of this experience - walking alongside us, mourning losses, feeling our frustration, calming fears, bringing sanity back when it feels that we can’t handle any more. I guess there’s one more similarity between those two storms: We made it through Rita with God’s help as communities have come together to help each other stitch up the wounds and heal the injuries we‘ve sustained. I’m pretty sure we’ll make it through Ike the same way.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
After the Storm
It's real and it isn't.
For my mom, she learned the house is ok, but can't seem to understand that getting power back into Houston is going to take a while. "Once power gets to the grocery store I can go back. That shouldn't take too long. They're bringing people from all across the country to put the electrical system back together. It can't take that long."
Problem is there are over 3 MILLION people without power in the Houston area alone. That's just for starters. Many of those "people from across the country" have been working their very appreciated fool heads off repairing the electrical systems in Louisiana demolished by Hurricane Gustav just a couple of weeks earlier. There comes a point when you run out of "people from across the country" who are available to help splice together damaged systems. They do have to keep a few people in their own areas to keep their own systems working.
Also, I remember how hard it was waiting for power to come back to my neighborhood when Her Horribleness blew through 3 years ago. I stayed with Mom in Houston and commuted. That doesn't look like a viable option this time around, and, even if it is, it's still a pretty stressful situation. Of course, there's no way I'm planning on staying in the DFW area for however long it takes the power to come on at home! Caught on the horns of a dilemma, aren't I?
This morning, I turned on one of the local tv stations' streaming video to the sounds of someone cutting limbs from a downed tree. My body actually flinched from the sound. It brings back so many visceral memories of listening to chainsaws cutting down trees for weeks? months? after Rita came through the area. There's a part of me that wonders if I can handle that sound for weeks on end again.
Last night, I tried to describe to myself how I felt. The best I could come up with is that I feel like I've been hit by a semi going full bore, drug for a while, and then had the truck come to rest on top of me. I recognize that this is the shock period of the disaster, and also that I'm still in limbo about the particular level of damage my own home has experienced.
What heightens the feeling is that I've only just been back in my home for less than a year. True, it's just a house and the stuff inside are just things. There's a part of me that really isn't tied to what is there. However, there's a sense of "place-less-ness" that has struck me rather deeply. Perhaps it has something to do with my mom's house also not being a viable fallback position at this time. Mom's lived in the same place for 45 years, so that's "home" in a way the my current living place isn't.
It's going to be a long journey through the night this time, I think. There's a bit of "C'mon, God! Twice in 3 years?! Give us a break!!" driving my feelings at the moment. My intellect tells me that the people who experienced Ike in Haiti and Cuba had it much, much worse than most of us. But heart's ruling head at the moment and I'm beginning to think a nice scream or two, with some fist-flailing at God thrown in for good measure, might be a good way to deal with the whole scenario at the moment.
I'll come back in a bit and let you know how that goes! Later!
For my mom, she learned the house is ok, but can't seem to understand that getting power back into Houston is going to take a while. "Once power gets to the grocery store I can go back. That shouldn't take too long. They're bringing people from all across the country to put the electrical system back together. It can't take that long."
Problem is there are over 3 MILLION people without power in the Houston area alone. That's just for starters. Many of those "people from across the country" have been working their very appreciated fool heads off repairing the electrical systems in Louisiana demolished by Hurricane Gustav just a couple of weeks earlier. There comes a point when you run out of "people from across the country" who are available to help splice together damaged systems. They do have to keep a few people in their own areas to keep their own systems working.
Also, I remember how hard it was waiting for power to come back to my neighborhood when Her Horribleness blew through 3 years ago. I stayed with Mom in Houston and commuted. That doesn't look like a viable option this time around, and, even if it is, it's still a pretty stressful situation. Of course, there's no way I'm planning on staying in the DFW area for however long it takes the power to come on at home! Caught on the horns of a dilemma, aren't I?
This morning, I turned on one of the local tv stations' streaming video to the sounds of someone cutting limbs from a downed tree. My body actually flinched from the sound. It brings back so many visceral memories of listening to chainsaws cutting down trees for weeks? months? after Rita came through the area. There's a part of me that wonders if I can handle that sound for weeks on end again.
Last night, I tried to describe to myself how I felt. The best I could come up with is that I feel like I've been hit by a semi going full bore, drug for a while, and then had the truck come to rest on top of me. I recognize that this is the shock period of the disaster, and also that I'm still in limbo about the particular level of damage my own home has experienced.
What heightens the feeling is that I've only just been back in my home for less than a year. True, it's just a house and the stuff inside are just things. There's a part of me that really isn't tied to what is there. However, there's a sense of "place-less-ness" that has struck me rather deeply. Perhaps it has something to do with my mom's house also not being a viable fallback position at this time. Mom's lived in the same place for 45 years, so that's "home" in a way the my current living place isn't.
It's going to be a long journey through the night this time, I think. There's a bit of "C'mon, God! Twice in 3 years?! Give us a break!!" driving my feelings at the moment. My intellect tells me that the people who experienced Ike in Haiti and Cuba had it much, much worse than most of us. But heart's ruling head at the moment and I'm beginning to think a nice scream or two, with some fist-flailing at God thrown in for good measure, might be a good way to deal with the whole scenario at the moment.
I'll come back in a bit and let you know how that goes! Later!
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Only in Beaumont
Last night, I was watching Hurricane Ike updates on The Weather Channel. Finally, the Weather Nerd (WN) posted in Beaumont comes on the screen. The wind and rain were rough at this point. WN was doing the hurricane dance, barely holding onto his hood and his mike and doing his best to stay in front of the camera lens.
WN doggedly gives his update from in front of Crockett Street. Lights are still blazing in the background at this time.
Suddenly, there's a shape moving in the background. It moved quickly, so I thought, "Debris".
A few moments later, the shape passes through the picture again. It's rather large and ghostly white. I thought, "Hmmmm...that's weird."
Finally, the large, white shape dances through the picture, making pirouettes and leaping.
AHA! The Weather Channel got streaked!! TEEHEE!!
Give the WN credit: He didn't miss a lick!
WN doggedly gives his update from in front of Crockett Street. Lights are still blazing in the background at this time.
Suddenly, there's a shape moving in the background. It moved quickly, so I thought, "Debris".
A few moments later, the shape passes through the picture again. It's rather large and ghostly white. I thought, "Hmmmm...that's weird."
Finally, the large, white shape dances through the picture, making pirouettes and leaping.
AHA! The Weather Channel got streaked!! TEEHEE!!
Give the WN credit: He didn't miss a lick!
Deja Vu, Sort Of
Almost 3 years ago to the day, I was sitting in front of a tv a safe distance away while Hurricane Rita clobbered home. Here I am, once again, watching helplessly as Hurricane Ike does a number on the Golden Triangle.
As I watched again last night, once again there was a weather idiot doing the hurricane dance in the rain as the wind blew him around the street. The difference was that instead of standing in front of the Beaumont Public Library, he was standing in front of Crocket Street. As I watched through the night, lights were still on in the area. Wouldn't you know it? The lights went off at about 2:15am, again!
I lasted as long as there was any useful information available, watching The Weather Channel and, this time, keeping track of the Golden Triangle via streaming video on KFDM-TV.
Now, I'm watching as the storm continues to go through town, and checking in on everyone who stayed behind. The storm is still working it's way through the area and will be for several hours. Once again, we have no idea how long it will be before it will be possible to get back home. This time, Mom's house is in the evacuation zone, so, until we know more, I won't even be able to get within 1 1/2 hours of home.
Deja vu, sort of.
I hate waiting to find out how things are at home!
(Hey! Love, Rita! How're you doing?)
As I watched again last night, once again there was a weather idiot doing the hurricane dance in the rain as the wind blew him around the street. The difference was that instead of standing in front of the Beaumont Public Library, he was standing in front of Crocket Street. As I watched through the night, lights were still on in the area. Wouldn't you know it? The lights went off at about 2:15am, again!
I lasted as long as there was any useful information available, watching The Weather Channel and, this time, keeping track of the Golden Triangle via streaming video on KFDM-TV.
Now, I'm watching as the storm continues to go through town, and checking in on everyone who stayed behind. The storm is still working it's way through the area and will be for several hours. Once again, we have no idea how long it will be before it will be possible to get back home. This time, Mom's house is in the evacuation zone, so, until we know more, I won't even be able to get within 1 1/2 hours of home.
Deja vu, sort of.
I hate waiting to find out how things are at home!
(Hey! Love, Rita! How're you doing?)
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Time to Leave?
The Weather Channel has posted Jim Cantore in Galveston! SCREECH!!
Somehow Cantore always ends up in the place where the eye of the storm passes. Ike's going to hit land at Cat 3, maybe Cat 4. Even if the beastie ends up in Galveston, it's going to be fairly nasty here in Beaumont, since we'll be on the "wrong" side of the storm.
The bags are mostly packed. They need to go into the car.
Cantore was musing that the window of opportunity for evacuation was beginning to close.
But I'm still dithering over whether to leave or not.
Can you hear the fear ratcheting up? I can!
Somehow Cantore always ends up in the place where the eye of the storm passes. Ike's going to hit land at Cat 3, maybe Cat 4. Even if the beastie ends up in Galveston, it's going to be fairly nasty here in Beaumont, since we'll be on the "wrong" side of the storm.
The bags are mostly packed. They need to go into the car.
Cantore was musing that the window of opportunity for evacuation was beginning to close.
But I'm still dithering over whether to leave or not.
Can you hear the fear ratcheting up? I can!
Monday, September 08, 2008
Ready to Boycott!
Ok - I've had it!
I'm about ready to call for a boycott. Don't know if I can stand it any longer and am feeling the need to encourage a boycott.
Of what, you ask?
Weathercasters using the term "ramp up" (or any variation thereon) when giving their reports on hurricanes.
Would someone please explain to me why this particular term has come into being? I do remember more or less when we began to hear it in the news and what it's associated with; however, what the heck to do ramps have to do with a hurricane gathering strength?
The Weather Channel appears to be one of the worst offenders, at least in my experience. It is virtually impossible to get through a tropical update without hearing the term not once, not twice, but on and on. Have they run out of descriptors, or creativity, or have they just been on air for so long dealing with storm after storm that they've forgotten what vocabulary they learned prior to walking in front of a camera? Well, that last one probably isn't the reason, since they've been using the term since the first storm of the season.
I've been trying to limit my exposure to said weathercasters, but it is sometimes difficult.
Fortunately, there are other news sources where one can glean pertinent information. But I must admit I find it helpful to see the reports of the storms in motion, so I'll probably have to endure a "ramp up" or two from time to time.
But ...
I'm ready for a boycott!! Anyone interested in joining me?
I'm about ready to call for a boycott. Don't know if I can stand it any longer and am feeling the need to encourage a boycott.
Of what, you ask?
Weathercasters using the term "ramp up" (or any variation thereon) when giving their reports on hurricanes.
Would someone please explain to me why this particular term has come into being? I do remember more or less when we began to hear it in the news and what it's associated with; however, what the heck to do ramps have to do with a hurricane gathering strength?
The Weather Channel appears to be one of the worst offenders, at least in my experience. It is virtually impossible to get through a tropical update without hearing the term not once, not twice, but on and on. Have they run out of descriptors, or creativity, or have they just been on air for so long dealing with storm after storm that they've forgotten what vocabulary they learned prior to walking in front of a camera? Well, that last one probably isn't the reason, since they've been using the term since the first storm of the season.
I've been trying to limit my exposure to said weathercasters, but it is sometimes difficult.
Fortunately, there are other news sources where one can glean pertinent information. But I must admit I find it helpful to see the reports of the storms in motion, so I'll probably have to endure a "ramp up" or two from time to time.
But ...
I'm ready for a boycott!! Anyone interested in joining me?
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Speaking of Rita ...
Oops! Did I say Rita? I meant Gustav.
Actually, I wasn't too far off the first time.
It has come to my attention that some of what I'm experiencing now, and have been since Gustav came roaring over the horizon, is related to Rita.
While I don't believe what I'm experiencing is classic, full-blown PTSD, I'm certainly experiencing some of the symptoms, and I suspect that's perfectly normal when you're looking down the barrel of a potentially Category 5 hurricane, like Gustav was as my family and others fled the Golden Triangle area.
It strikes me that Gustav was the perfect trigger for subconscious flashbacks to how Rita affected our lives. So it should be no surprise (but was) that I'm suddenly hypervigilant about hurricanes in general and that darned "hurricane train" chugging through the Atlantic at the moment, in particular.
Here's what the mayoclinic.com website has to say about PTSD: (Hope they don't get mad if I cut-n-paste instead of link. I'd rather have this info all in one spot.)
"Post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms may include:
Flashbacks, or reliving the traumatic event for minutes or even days at a time
Shame or guilt
Upsetting dreams about the traumatic event
Trying to avoid thinking or talking about the traumatic event
Feeling emotionally numb
Irritability or anger
Poor relationships
Self-destructive behavior, such as drinking too much
Hopelessness about the future
Trouble sleeping
Memory problems
Trouble concentrating
Being easily startled or frightened
Not enjoying activities you once enjoyed
Hearing or seeing things that aren't there
Post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms can come and go. You may have more symptoms during times of higher stress or when you experience symbolic reminders of what you went through."
Nothing symbolic about watching those hurricane symbols and cones of probability crossing the screen! *she said sarcastically, shakes head* Well, nothing symbolic beyond the fact that those were what I watched from a hotel in California as Rita inexorably headed this way. The fact that Gustav didn't send me fleeing from the state screaming is probably a minor accomplishment.
Truth is, I most likely don't have full-blown PTSD. However, I fully believe it's possible to have a situationally induced experience of the symptoms. I'm also reasonably certain I'm not the only person feeling this way.
The most important thing for me to hold onto right now is that I'm not imagining things and I'm not crazy! It's completely understandable for one to feel the way you did when you came home to the hole in the roof and thawed stuff in the fridge almost exactly three years ago. True, no hole in the roof this time, but I did apparently accidentally turn off the fridge, so I once again lost the contents of a freshly stocked refrigerator. *sigh*
This, too, shall pass. A little bit faster now that I've realized what's going on, I hope, but sooner or later life will get back to normal.
...
Probably after hurricane season is completely over!
Actually, I wasn't too far off the first time.
It has come to my attention that some of what I'm experiencing now, and have been since Gustav came roaring over the horizon, is related to Rita.
While I don't believe what I'm experiencing is classic, full-blown PTSD, I'm certainly experiencing some of the symptoms, and I suspect that's perfectly normal when you're looking down the barrel of a potentially Category 5 hurricane, like Gustav was as my family and others fled the Golden Triangle area.
It strikes me that Gustav was the perfect trigger for subconscious flashbacks to how Rita affected our lives. So it should be no surprise (but was) that I'm suddenly hypervigilant about hurricanes in general and that darned "hurricane train" chugging through the Atlantic at the moment, in particular.
Here's what the mayoclinic.com website has to say about PTSD: (Hope they don't get mad if I cut-n-paste instead of link. I'd rather have this info all in one spot.)
"Post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms may include:
Flashbacks, or reliving the traumatic event for minutes or even days at a time
Shame or guilt
Upsetting dreams about the traumatic event
Trying to avoid thinking or talking about the traumatic event
Feeling emotionally numb
Irritability or anger
Poor relationships
Self-destructive behavior, such as drinking too much
Hopelessness about the future
Trouble sleeping
Memory problems
Trouble concentrating
Being easily startled or frightened
Not enjoying activities you once enjoyed
Hearing or seeing things that aren't there
Post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms can come and go. You may have more symptoms during times of higher stress or when you experience symbolic reminders of what you went through."
Nothing symbolic about watching those hurricane symbols and cones of probability crossing the screen! *she said sarcastically, shakes head* Well, nothing symbolic beyond the fact that those were what I watched from a hotel in California as Rita inexorably headed this way. The fact that Gustav didn't send me fleeing from the state screaming is probably a minor accomplishment.
Truth is, I most likely don't have full-blown PTSD. However, I fully believe it's possible to have a situationally induced experience of the symptoms. I'm also reasonably certain I'm not the only person feeling this way.
The most important thing for me to hold onto right now is that I'm not imagining things and I'm not crazy! It's completely understandable for one to feel the way you did when you came home to the hole in the roof and thawed stuff in the fridge almost exactly three years ago. True, no hole in the roof this time, but I did apparently accidentally turn off the fridge, so I once again lost the contents of a freshly stocked refrigerator. *sigh*
This, too, shall pass. A little bit faster now that I've realized what's going on, I hope, but sooner or later life will get back to normal.
...
Probably after hurricane season is completely over!
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Tunnel Vision
While this isn't a new phenomenon, it just came to my attention that I get a real case of tunnel vision when it comes to hurricanes.
At some level, the world came to an almost complete stop once Hurricane Gustav began to take aim at the northern Gulf Coast. I'm not certain if it is a function of watching Her Horriblness bear down on Southeast Texas while I was stuck helplessly watching from California, or just a lurid fascination for the potential destructive power of a hurricane. Perhaps a bit of both.
It drives me nuts almost to not know the latest info on whatever hurricane happens to have the potential to head to the Gulf Coast. Even if I'm working on something else, the impending storm lingers there at the edge of my consciousness.
I even found myself "slipping" on things that I would ordinarily have remembered: I sent an email to my church list, asking them to let me know where they were headed if they were evacuating, and reminding them that I'd be serving as 'info central' until Gustav had left the premises. To start the ball rolling, I'd intended to let everyone know my plans. I had to be reminded gently by one of my members that I'd forgotten!
Just knowing that a hurricane tipping the scales at Category 4 (at that point) was headed into the Gulf was enough to rattle me.
And now? There's a whole herd of them headed across the Atlantic. The functioning part of my brain tells me that all those beasties aren't aimed right toward the "Chute" into the Gulf. The less rational part isn't so sure that we won't have a collection of visitors in the next couple of weeks.
I'm almost, but not quite, convinced that Hanna won't just keep going west and follow the National Hurricane Center track up the East Coast. Ike's a bit scarier, but then, he's still got a ways to go before he's a threat. Josephine? Well, I really don't need Josephine the Plumber to come by to Comet-cleanse my sinks!
ACK! Gotta go! It's time for the latest updates! Later!
At some level, the world came to an almost complete stop once Hurricane Gustav began to take aim at the northern Gulf Coast. I'm not certain if it is a function of watching Her Horriblness bear down on Southeast Texas while I was stuck helplessly watching from California, or just a lurid fascination for the potential destructive power of a hurricane. Perhaps a bit of both.
It drives me nuts almost to not know the latest info on whatever hurricane happens to have the potential to head to the Gulf Coast. Even if I'm working on something else, the impending storm lingers there at the edge of my consciousness.
I even found myself "slipping" on things that I would ordinarily have remembered: I sent an email to my church list, asking them to let me know where they were headed if they were evacuating, and reminding them that I'd be serving as 'info central' until Gustav had left the premises. To start the ball rolling, I'd intended to let everyone know my plans. I had to be reminded gently by one of my members that I'd forgotten!
Just knowing that a hurricane tipping the scales at Category 4 (at that point) was headed into the Gulf was enough to rattle me.
And now? There's a whole herd of them headed across the Atlantic. The functioning part of my brain tells me that all those beasties aren't aimed right toward the "Chute" into the Gulf. The less rational part isn't so sure that we won't have a collection of visitors in the next couple of weeks.
I'm almost, but not quite, convinced that Hanna won't just keep going west and follow the National Hurricane Center track up the East Coast. Ike's a bit scarier, but then, he's still got a ways to go before he's a threat. Josephine? Well, I really don't need Josephine the Plumber to come by to Comet-cleanse my sinks!
ACK! Gotta go! It's time for the latest updates! Later!
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