Post-Ike

Thanks to everyone who's called or written. Really, sincerely, thank you.
I had a good cry early Shabbat morning. There is a Cardinal couple who show up at the bird feeder regularly - the male is the classic showy red and black struttin'- his -bad-self and the female a classy gray with pale red undertones both with Tintin's cockscomb hairstyle. The male was out there feeding and calling his heart out for the female, who I presumed was killed in the storm. This is prime bird migration time along the Texas coast and the losses to wildlife are immeasurable. After I got back from my havurah -(which met in a building without power, so our perpetually over-heated rabbi was schvitzing mightily under his tallit), I checked the bird feeder again. The little gray and red lady had returned to her mate, and I startled my mate with cries of joy.
This is day 11 without power at our home. Life has had a different rhythm for the two media junkies within: playing cards, Scrabble, dominoes, then retiring to read in bed until we fall asleep. Mr. Smith sweetly inquired on Eruv Shabbat if this was what "being Orthodox is like." Life has been unexpectedly sweet, slow, quiet and focused. It took a hurricane to settle my ever-distracted mind and reflect upon what is essential and what is true as the Days of Awe approach.
For now, we are connected to simpler things: the politics that absorbed us 12 days ago is like something from another life, and we've barely been able to grasp the economic horror show now playing in lives near you. Our new fave raves are neighbors sharing ice, finding an open movie theater, kids skateboarding, people walking the neighborhood, cheering when we see a power truck, counting our blessings in the wake of destruction, loss of homes and lives. We (and our loved ones including all dogs and cats) are all just fine. Houston is still in shambles, but is struggling back to life. Galveston is uninhabitable still. It will come back, too.
I'm still channeling my inner-Pollyanna and hoping for the best, here in the land of the haves and the have-nots.

Hurricane Ike

Today will be spent boarding up the big picture window, filling containers with water, clearing the deck and yard, cleaing the house in case MIL needs to stay with us. Cell phones and iPod are charged, we've laid in enough cat and dog food, peanut butter and tuna fish for a week. We have batteries, although I'm not sure if they fit the lanterns or radio... we've had a typical Gulf-coast laissez-faire attitude to hurricane prep, even post-Katrina. There ARE plenty of candles; the supermarket had a close-out sale on Shabbat candles last month, so I stocked up.
Ike is approaching and the latest path projections bring it right through our hometown, so we can't brush it off any longer.
Hurricanes were exciting adventures as a kid. Carla rip-roared through here when I was 10 in 1962, keeping me out of school for days, reading and playing Scrabble by flashlight on pallets in the living room , watching the tall Oaks bending at improbable angles in the gale, wading through two feet deep water in the yard when the eye passed over us and all was still. I was awed by the destruction only later, when we drove down to what was left of the bars and beach houses along Galveston Bay. People searched for the remains of a bar whose walls were rumored to have been papered with dollar bills. The miles of driftwood along the beach hid snakes, Daddy said, so we were careful.
Shabbat Shalom everyone. Be safe.