The Morning After 
This copy was written on Tuesday 9/16, when I was too physically tired to continue the cleanup. It is the first of a series of "IKE Lessons."
We all know that within every tragic experience we can find lessons that can literally change the course of our lives. I'm not sure that Hurricane Ike is that tragic for me. And, correspondingly, I'm not sure that the lessons I am learning are profound enough to make a huge difference in my life experience. One thing I do know is that each day, as I go through the motions of restoring my life to some state of "normalcy", a voice in my head creates a modern story line of lessons I need to remember when I get back to such things as electricity and the internet. For now, I am taking time to record some of those lessons.
First, I will give you a brief timeline of what life has been like since it became clear that Hurricane Ike was headed our way. By Thursday, it was clear that there was no longer a question about whether this wind storm was going to impact our area. The only question that remained was how much it would affect us. So, it was time for preparation.
We called all our sellers and told them to take the signs inside. As someone in our company joked, "We don't want any RE/MAX missiles out there." Once we took care of that bit of business and wished all our clients to "BE SAFE", it was time to tend to our own needs.
I ran into one of my inactive, referral clients in Home Depot and we discussed how hard it was to think about what we would need in the event of no electricity for days or even weeks. Being the brilliant visionary that I am, I spent the day on Friday carefully planning what I would do if we had to do without power.
On Friday night we watched the news without ceasing...praying that the storm would not have a direct hit on Galveston...for many reasons. First, the island is heavily populated with BOIs. Those "born on the island" do not feel that any hurricane can hurt them. Thousands stayed despite repeated mandatory evacuation orders. Secondly, if it hits Galveston, it hits Houston as well. As the fourth largest city in our nation with huge towering glass structures and complicated bayous winding throughout the communities in an effort to prevent residential flooding, this area is particularly vulnerable to a direct hit.
Third, my home is an hour and half drive from Galveston. Yet this storm was headed up Interstate 45 and its trip was going to take close to 24 hours. We finally (my 25 year old daughter and I) collapsed into sleep somewhere around midnight. Between the tides, the wave action and the path of the storm, it was already clear that the island was heavily damaged. The fires had begun. The emergency personnel were getting desperate calls from residents that could not be helped. And it was clear that we needed to get some rest.
The power went out at 4am Saturday morning. The wind and rain roared hour after hour...the only break being the sound of trees crashing and transformers blowing out. It was dark and the hours seemed endless. As the storm died down to tropical force, I had to go onto my back porch where there was enough light to read. My daughter stayed inside listening to the endless bad news coming from the battery operated radio.
Suddenly, I loud crash that I thought was nearby thunder! My daughter screams "MOM, come here." I casually enter the house expecting yet another overreaction to the circumstances to find water pouring from the ceiling of my living room. A look outside revealed that a large portion of the tree (at least 50 years old) in my front yard was now on top of my house.
I could describe the rest of the tree crash ordeal, but it would be too long. Just know that it punctured the roof in 3 places, each hole about a one foot diameter. On Sunday, I was able to get a roof company to patch the holes and dry in the home. The remediation company promises to call about drying out the moisture and I now have a claim number for my insurance company. All is well.
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