This is the text we received from our son last Thursday: “In case you hadn’t heard, there’s a big hurricane coming our way.”
Our son and his family live in Houston, and if we hadn’t heard about that big hurricane then, we’ve certainly heard about it now. The whole world has heard about it now. Harvey hit the Gulf Coast of Texas like a heavyweight prizefighter. But instead of leaving the ring after dropping his opponent in the first round, Harvey has lingered, just daring any and all to get back up.
At first things didn’t look so grim — at least not in the suburb of Tomball where Dylan and Julie live with their two young daughters. “We are OK here,” Dylan texted on Friday. “Tomball is not predicted to get hit too hard and we’ve got necessary preparations.” Julie added: “We haven’t gotten much rain at all yet, and it’s just now starting to get a little windy. We’ll see how the night goes, but we’ll be OK.”
On Saturday Dylan texted, “We are watching the BYU game in the closet of our bathroom. We’re on tornado watch here.” Julie good-naturedly identified herself as a football widow for the next four months.
By Sunday morning, things had taken a turn for the worse. We asked if they were going to leave Houston and head for Dallas where relatives live. “Can’t,” Dylan said. “The roads are all flooded.” Then he sent a picture of their street — or a picture of what used to be their street. Let’s just say a river ran through it.
Their 6-year-old daughter, Eloise, was upset, he reported, “because she saw some people on a boat and she really wanted to get in because it looked fun.”
Still, he said, “We’re safe and still have power and water. We will be just fine if we don’t kill each other.”
(Author’s note: If there’s one thing our family specializes in, it’s gallows humor. Dylan sent a meme of a Texan facing a wall of water with a shotgun. Julie sent a meme showing special eclipse-type glasses designed for Harvey watching. And then there was this one, below.)
As the day passed, and the rains kept coming, thing got worse. Julie texted this: “Streets flooded. Water starting to seep in through the garage.” Dylan noted they had turned off the power as a precaution against fire.
And then came the text telling us that they were leaving their home. “We are going to a friend’s house to stay tonight at least and maybe a couple of nights. They have power, so we will be OK. The girls already left by boat. A friend is picking me up in a boat, too.”
A few hours later Dylan left, too, with the family cat. As long as I live I hope I never forget the image of my grown son sailing down the dark streets of Tomball, Texas, with the family cat. Meanwhile, he and the boat’s pilot were on the lookout for submerged fire hydrants that could sink their craft as surely as a sandbar could ground Mark Twain’s Mississippi riverboat.
The next day Julie took care of children in their temporary new residence while Dylan joined other volunteers who were searching for people needing assistance.
“Did you run into alligators and snakes?” I asked.
“Naw,” he said, “they only show up when the water’s stagnant.” He did see small colonies of fire ants floating by, though. Fire ants, as it turns out, are nature’s ultimate survivors.
And still it’s raining. Julie texted this yesterday when I asked how she was doing. “Doing OK. There’s just a lot of uncertainty right now and things aren’t looking up yet. It’s been pouring for hours and hours.”
Yes. The uncertainty. The uncertainty about everything that lies ahead. Tomorrow. Next week. Next month.
Our kids are much luckier than many. Thank you, everyone, for keeping them and all those affected by Harvey in your hearts as they stand back up.
Ann Cannon can be reached at acannon@sltrib.com or facebook.com/anncannontrib.