The Business of Ike
Life is intertwined in ways we would never know until disaster strikes.
The newspaper still is the business people call when they want immediate confirmation of what they’ve heard. They simply can’t bear the agony of waiting until the churning rumors on the Net are clarified.
My desk phone rang. On the line was our youngest in Houston, still recovering from the devastation of Ike which had left them among millions without power. No air conditioning in Houston is no fun.
She wasn’t on her cell phone about the destruction all around. She had one question: “Did First Pres burn down last night?” She was talking about the Galveston First Presbyterian Church. I replied, “It stood up to the 1900 Galveston Hurricane, and I imagine it’s OK.” She replied, “I’ve heard there was a big fire in that area last night and I need to know.”
The mother of the bride sprang to action. After all, she was talking about the church where they are members and were married last Thanksgiving. Our family had lived in Houston for a decade before when my taller half was sent to Oklahoma to run a new purchase in the Capital City.
So I let NewsOK know I needed to know the plight of First Pres in Galveston. Checked the Associated Press wire. Nothing. And then I did what the Texas Aggie would have done had she had power for her laptop and Internet capabilities. I looked up the minister online, punched in his cell number and left a message. In minutes, he called and said not to worry. So far the massive structure built in the 1880s was holding up, just as it did in 1900. Fire was across the street. Wind didn’t blow it onto other structures. Basement flooded, so HVAC system is done.
I failed to ask the fate of the glorious Tiffany windows or the small room off the entry where caskets were kept for funerals after the 1900 hurricane. I did ask about donations and he thought they’d eventually have that on the Web site. And they have a fund … solid Presbyterians are like Eagle Scouts, always prepared.
Galveston was just a fun get-away down the road when we lived in Houston, until this wedding came along. The Longhorn the Aggie married brought with him a huge family that sprang from the island. B.O.I. is the real deal for them. We tried to convince them to come to our Westminster Pres church home here, but the Houston-Galveston flock would not be moved easily. So we said, why not? — and moved our annual Thanksgiving family reunion there.
For the wedding festivities, we headed to the historic Tremont House in Galveston. Our oldest grandson, almost 3 then, loved the Tremont so much he was adamant he wanted to permanently live there and was more than a bit upset when he had to give it up. The Tremont? Ike pitched glass from smashed windows across the lobby floor.
The morning after, we went to the Longhorn’s grandmother’s house for breakfast. Warm and friendly, even toasty, it was. The food kept coming. The article about the wedding in the Galveston Daily brought smiles. The Galveston Daily? Building damaged. Rolls of paper soaked. Staff homes destroyed. So happy to be alive and join each other to work from the Texas City office. The business and the personnel are in this together. Subscribers who bump into them on the island yell for their paper.
The grandmother’s modern house took on the old-fashioned feel that comes when generations with a common bond sit down together to share a meal. But did this happy home survive the 100-plus winds?
The night Ike pushed through Houston, the Aggie and I kept in touch by texting. Their power had gone out about 1:35 a.m. True comfort is hearing a cell phone bong in defiance of Ike. The Longhorn snored peacefully for awhile, she said, but then the action picked up when the French doors blew open. They struggled to close them. The rest of the night was spent Oklahoma-style, in the center hallway, protected from the elements.
As her big sis had said in her toast at the rehearsal dinner. “May your love be like the wind, strong enough to move the clouds, soft enough to never hurt … ” Hopefully, a soft wind will be with all of us for awhile.
Nancy Darnell
Assistant Business Editor
