Hurricane Ike rolls over Houston. Mess. Disaster. Horror. A personal take: one friend's house near the Heights has walls filled with water, leaking skylights, leaking windows, growing mold. She's hoping FEMA will come through with money. Or her insurance. Meanwhile she's working with evacuees at the George R. Brown convention center. Another friend told me everything was fine at his house near the coast and then told me his place had taken a foot of water, had a number of broken windows, an exterior porch that had separated from the house and trees down. Oh, and his house is more than seven feet off the ground. Hurricane Ike devasted the city, the region I love deeply, humidly, no matter the storm. And some who have suffered are keeping their heads up in the air and pushing forward. And those with minor wounds stumble. And others fall.
And let's not forget this same storm ravaged Cuba and Haiti. The people there are suffering just as badly, but actually a lot worse as compounded by Third World poverty. Depressing but true.
