Usually, the residents of the Gulf Coast are the ones who worry about hurricanes. After all, the most destructive one ever recorded for the United States was the unnamed storm that wiped out Galveston on September 9, 1909. It has been reported that about 8,000 people died as a result of that tragic event.
However, even New England is not immune to hurricanes along its shores as well as in the Connecticut Valley, itself. The local history of Amherst, Massachusetts, recalls the devastation roaring through the Pioneer Valley on September 12, 1938. Although the death toll was less than 10% of the count associated with the turn-of-the-century storm in Galveston, the overall destruction was significant enough for the town to name its high school athletic team: The Hurricanes. The overall results of the current storm, Henri, striking New England’s coastline may be less significant but the residents of its inland towns have, nevertheless, been inundated by the usual accompanying floods.
Karen and I have had sufficient exposure to floods from tropical storms to understand the physical and psychological damage hurricanes, the cyclones of the Atlantic Ocean, can cause.
Our introduction came in late June of 1989, ten years after we had moved to what our property deed called “a hundred-year flood plain.” In the long run, it was fortunate that these conditions had been officially stated; we were obligated to carry flood insurance. Our policy covered the amount needed to repair the damaged floors and walls and replace the water-soaked furniture of our Spanish-colonial home.
Following that 1989 event, we are among those Houstonians who are psychologically troubled whenever the rainfall exceeds several inches per hour. It is deeply stressful to watch the water line creep toward your house. When we finally were able to sell our home on Grand Valley Drive in Spring, Texas, and buy one in Cypress, we made sure our new property was among the highest in the neighborhood. Fortunately during the years we lived there, passing storms avoided us, flooding only the community golf course.
It was in 2005, as we neared the completion of our life in Cypress and prepared to move to Eagle’s Trace, that we expanded our tropical storm experience to one for a true hurricane. At the end of August, Katrina arrived in Louisiana and a significant percentage of New Orleans residents suddenly appeared in Houston. Many transferred from the Astrodome to homes in other parts of the city and became permanent members of the Houston community. At the time, having sold our property in Cypress, we were living temporarily in an apartment complex in northwest Houston, awaiting the opening of Eagle’s Trace in November.
Our plans called for us to drive, in early September, to Dallas where I was to officiate at the wedding of the daughter of close friends who, previously, had resided in Houston. Following the wedding, we were to drive to Grand Coteau in southern Louisiana for our annual Ignatian retreat at the Jesuit Center there. Our plans were radically changed by Rita, a hurricane headed toward our part of the gulf coast in mid-September.
We left our apartment in northwest Houston early on Thursday morning so that we would be in Dallas for the rehearsal scheduled for the following day. After six hours of so-called driving, we arrived in The Woodlands – a trip which usually took a maximum of twenty minutes. Karen and I spent a total of fourteen hours in our journey from northwest Houston to Dallas. As we idled along, we had several interesting conversations with newly found friends in the cars in the adjoining lanes of Interstate 45. Fortunately, there were compassionate Texans who walked along-side of the traffic and offered us free bottles of water. Our Dallas friends were overjoyed that we arrived in time for the rehearsal on Friday and for the Saturday wedding I was to witness. Only one other couple from Houston accomplished the journey, the soloist for the wedding, along with her husband.
We never did make the trip to Grand Coteau, Louisiana. However, when we called to cancel the plans for our retreat there, the Jesuits were pleased, since the Center was now filled with religious refugees from New Orleans and the surrounding area. The saddest result, however, was that this cancellation ended our twenty-five consecutive years of annual retreats at this Jesuit Retreat Center.
As residents of Eagle’s Trace, we have also experienced the passage of hurricane Ike (September 1, 2008) and hurricane Harvey (August 27, 2018.) In both instances, the management of our retirement community, as well as its residents, have been of magnificent benefit to us. The staff worked to provide for our well-being, even if the meals had to be unhealed. Flood waters rose in surrounding neighborhoods, but our grounds remained unencumbered. As a result of Harvey, the number of our future residents increased; former neighborhood residents purchased apartments here, because they chose not to live any longer in their flood-prone homes.
The US Corp. of Army Engineers is now relocating its headquarters to a site opposite to the entrance for Eagle’s Trace. Because of multiple political reasons, it may not be possible to erect an “Ike Dike” in Galveston Bay, although discussions continue about its construction. Nevertheless, given the merit of our staff and cooperation of our residents, our own community should be able to continue to endure future gulf-coast storms, no matter what they are called.