Published: November 12, 2008 10:00 am      

Galveston: Sad walk down memory lane

When Hurricane Ike rendered Galveston Island helpless with a ruthless hit to the vintage city, my heart hurt with a need to get there as soon as possible.

I contacted the First Baptist Church of Galveston, believing they could direct me somewhere – not realizing they had taken just as hard a hit as the rest of the town. I couldn't imagine this huge edifice crippled, but it was. I asked the pastor if there was anything we could do to help and he said, “Come on, we can sure use you.” They welcomed us with open arms and the irony of going to this particular place made a definite believer out of me – “things really do happen for a reason.” It was not by accident we ended up at First Baptist Church- it was indeed divine intervention.

Galveston has been a destination place for me and my family for many years and I couldn't bear the thought of this city being the target of such a deadly and destructive storm. I quickly made arrangements for my week's vacation and asked my sister, Darlene Maroney, from Cameron to come with me. Together we made our way, preparing ourselves for the inevitable – Galveston was not the same city we once knew.

As we made our way over the main bridge into Galveston, there were boats sitting next to the road or in the middle of the highway. The storm had carried these vessels quite a distance – it was unbelievable.

The entire city was in survival mode. We traveled along the main boulevard where huge piles of rubble lined the streets. You could not help but feel the overwhelming pain you saw on faces of residents and business owners as they laboriously and heart sickeningly pulled debris, trash and mangled treasures from their structures. There was an eerie hum of machinery in the air and we couldn't get away from the musty smell. It was obvious this storm was relentless in its mission to destroy . . . the destruction was rampant.

Many of the homes that survived the 1900 “Great Storm” once again took some hard pounding. Workers throughout the city gave their heart and soul to seemingly “blow dry” the entire island and be rid of the damp and wet feeling that hung heavy as a cloud.

The piers were gone – just jetties leading out to places where fisherman quickly found their way, ignoring the trauma a merciless storm left behind, and anxious to start again with their favorite pastime. In fact, it was amazing to see how some people wanted to get “back to life” and eschew the sight of trash, debris, and buildings barely standing – some leaning with no outside walls. It looked like the island had been bombed . . . and it had.

People were trying so hard to get back to some semblance of normalcy that I almost felt they believed the fury of this fierce storm never happened. One man sat in a chair that could barely hold him, on a porch that looked like it would surely collapse, drinking rapaciously from a flask that would be his solution to cope with all the mess around him.

If folks were riding bikes or walking along the seawall, they would maneuver around huge concrete slabs that had landed on the walk; or around telephone poles lying in their path; or monuments which had been displaced and blocked the smooth flow of foot and bike traffic.

My grandmother had served on the church staff of First Baptist in 1946-48 and it was an overwhelming emotion when we began our work in the church fellowship hall that we saw a picture of our grandmother and mother on the wall from that era. Oh my goodness. We were to spend the next six days in that exact part of the church helping with “clean-up” and there our maternal influences were constantly a part of our everyday chores.

After only a day into our daunting task, I realized we needed more help than just the two of us. I called The Steel Magnolias in San Marcos and let them know what we were facing and if anyone wanted to come down and help, we could certainly use some extra hands. It was a last minute call, but several of them arranged their schedules and made their way down on Friday morning to stay through the weekend.

I have never called friends to come spend part of my vacation with me, but this had been “time off” like none other.

Help was on the way and I was thrilled when The Steel Magnolias arrived on the island. With a total of nine people working fast and furiously to get the job done, we did more in two days than my sister and I could possibly do in the previous four.

We turned music on in the kitchen, sang while we worked and the atmosphere of cheer seemed to be a blessing to all who passed through our work area. Darlene and I had already been singing every song we knew, so it was a treat to all who stopped by to hear the addition of a “choir in the kitchen.” If we dared to stop for just a moment, heads would pop in and ask, “What happened to the music?”

The ladies washed and bagged all the usable dishes and utensils from the cabinets so they could be handed out to residents who had nothing to eat with.

By Saturday, there were over forty people from eight other churches in Texas who came to help. What a sight of young people working diligently in the yard cleaning up debris, men on their hands and knees replacing sheet rock, and the ladies trying to get the kitchen and fellowship hall in order, so it could soon be used as a school cafeteria for the Episcopal Church across the street who lost all their school rooms to the storm and needed a place for their children to meet during the week. First Baptist offered their facility and we were going to help make that happen.

The first floor of this educational building had already been through the “mud-out” process. Over four feet of water had rushed through these buildings. When we arrived it was a matter of disinfecting, bleaching, cleaning walls and making it salvageable for use. All baby beds were cleaned - the nursery would be needed immediately for Sunday services.

The church sanctuary was ruined - no electricity - all carpet gone - many pews damaged as they were torn from their anchored positions on the floor and thrashed about in raging water.

Two of our Steel Magnolias boxed song books from balcony pews and what had been gathered before the storm and quickly stacked on the organ. It was a major task to wipe everything down and discern what could be saved. Everything that could be saved would be moved to the Chapel, their new meeting place.

The sanctuary was hit with over 10 feet of water, destroying the boiler room. It ruined the base of the Lord's Supper table and water got as high as three steps up to the platform area.

On Friday night, The Steel Magnolias sang at a “FriendShip” meeting which is sponsored by The Billy Graham Rapid Response Team. It was held on the main boulevard in Galveston with tents set up to feed hundreds of people from 3-7 p.m. everyday. The sign read “Free Meals” and it was a wonderful experience to sing and hear testimonies from people throughout the city. It was a time of healing for many.

We stayed to attend Sunday morning services that were held for the second time since Hurricane Ike. They asked The Steel Magnolias to sing and we did everything we could to “love them through our music.” The pastor announced, “If they can sing while washing dishes and cleaning, they can surely sing for us this morning.”

It was a labor of love for all of us, and a time to truly realize how grateful we need to be for what we have.

The storms of life come and go, but the love and caring is long remembered after the storm has passed. We went to help, but we came away with our own hearts blessed . . . what a vacation!