My heart aches for the people who've lost their homes -- everything they've ever known -- to such a ferocious storm as Ike. My heart aches even more remorsefully for those who lost their lives or their loved ones.
But this time can we say they were all negligent and ignorant to stay? Probably not.
Ike, with an unfathomable 600 mile span, was able to pummel nearly all of the state of Texas -- all at once -- but not before it brutally threatened the coastal Texas region steadily for what seemed like an eternity.
Twenty five foot "walls of water" surged into the coastal regions, completely obliterating everything in sight (except this house). No sea wall could keep the menacing storm at bay.
In Houston, an area noted for it's low-lying, flood threatened areas, the authorities admonished the residents, but strongly urged them to hunker down and tough out the storm in their homes.
Many of the some two million residents gambled their lives and heeded those directions -- and for what cause, but to prevent highway gridlock.
But no one was out of Ike's reach and no amount of evacuation in Texas would ensure anyone's safety. In fact, perhaps the opposite; evacuating your home, loading down your car and hitting the highway could have been you simply signing your own death sentence -- what with a storm this size, where could you possible run to avoid it in the amount of time allotted? No place.
But Ike didn't just threaten Texas and Texan residents. Houston is one of the biggest, most commercial cities in the nation -- with a massive petroleum refining infrastructure. Ike threatened out oil cache, one of the busiest ports in the nation -- the Houston Ship Channel, and one of the largest cities in the nation, Houston itself. Imagine the widespread devastation that could potentially be felt throughout the nation in these weeks, months, maybe even years to come . . .
I work for the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers. We are a Labor Union -- a Labor Union hearty with members aching to help in the recovery efforts from Hurricane Ike. I can't speak on behalf of the whole international Union, but here in Florida, we're a ghost town.
The majority of the men and women typically working in Florida have put their lives here on hold, loaded the bare necessities into bucket trucks and hauled it right into the heart of the disaster. And there they awaited their directions.
At one show-up, a lineman was so drawn aback by the turn out he went up in a bucket and photographed the show-up lot. Take a look at this:
Line trucks as far as the eye can see. Hundreds of them. Thousands maybe. Who knows how big that lot is.
The point is, the men and women I work for ran with lightning speed to assist in the recovery of Texas -- and they'll go wherever else they're needed.
They've seen things they never imagined. They've worked in conditions not suitable for livestock and, if they're lucky, they'll find refuge for sleep in an abandoned building nearby. If they're not, they sleep in mosquito infested, make-shift tent cities. However, with the rash of intense flooding, there's little hope of finding a dry space to set up camp -- many of our men and women are sleeping in their trucks. Yet nary an eye is blinked.
The entire body of I.B.E.W. men and women come together every time Florida is devastated by hurricanes. When California battles wildfires, men and women flood the scene to help with recovery. The I.B.E.W. is a family. We look out for one another and our fellow man. We recover and we restore. We stand together and stand strong until the job is finished and hope is restored.
I'm proud to work here and am confident that should I ever need the kind of help Texas is in desperate need of now, the I.B.E.W. will be on my side.
Being raised I.B.E.W. -- knowing the seriousness of the work my own dad does, I've always had a great respect for the work the members do and the risks they take to return others to safety and comfort. I'd never expect a lineman to go on a trouble call in hurricane conditions. I'd never grow rude and impatient when my power is out for days after a hurricane. I realize the immense task the men and women face and I'd never wish for them to rush. This job they do -- without care, attention, and precision -- it can literally cost them their lives.
(To read more and to see some incredibly powerful photographs, click here.)
But this time can we say they were all negligent and ignorant to stay? Probably not.
Ike, with an unfathomable 600 mile span, was able to pummel nearly all of the state of Texas -- all at once -- but not before it brutally threatened the coastal Texas region steadily for what seemed like an eternity.
Twenty five foot "walls of water" surged into the coastal regions, completely obliterating everything in sight (except this house). No sea wall could keep the menacing storm at bay.
In Houston, an area noted for it's low-lying, flood threatened areas, the authorities admonished the residents, but strongly urged them to hunker down and tough out the storm in their homes.
Many of the some two million residents gambled their lives and heeded those directions -- and for what cause, but to prevent highway gridlock.
But no one was out of Ike's reach and no amount of evacuation in Texas would ensure anyone's safety. In fact, perhaps the opposite; evacuating your home, loading down your car and hitting the highway could have been you simply signing your own death sentence -- what with a storm this size, where could you possible run to avoid it in the amount of time allotted? No place.
But Ike didn't just threaten Texas and Texan residents. Houston is one of the biggest, most commercial cities in the nation -- with a massive petroleum refining infrastructure. Ike threatened out oil cache, one of the busiest ports in the nation -- the Houston Ship Channel, and one of the largest cities in the nation, Houston itself. Imagine the widespread devastation that could potentially be felt throughout the nation in these weeks, months, maybe even years to come . . .
I work for the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers. We are a Labor Union -- a Labor Union hearty with members aching to help in the recovery efforts from Hurricane Ike. I can't speak on behalf of the whole international Union, but here in Florida, we're a ghost town.
The majority of the men and women typically working in Florida have put their lives here on hold, loaded the bare necessities into bucket trucks and hauled it right into the heart of the disaster. And there they awaited their directions.
At one show-up, a lineman was so drawn aback by the turn out he went up in a bucket and photographed the show-up lot. Take a look at this:
Line trucks as far as the eye can see. Hundreds of them. Thousands maybe. Who knows how big that lot is.
The point is, the men and women I work for ran with lightning speed to assist in the recovery of Texas -- and they'll go wherever else they're needed.
They've seen things they never imagined. They've worked in conditions not suitable for livestock and, if they're lucky, they'll find refuge for sleep in an abandoned building nearby. If they're not, they sleep in mosquito infested, make-shift tent cities. However, with the rash of intense flooding, there's little hope of finding a dry space to set up camp -- many of our men and women are sleeping in their trucks. Yet nary an eye is blinked.
The entire body of I.B.E.W. men and women come together every time Florida is devastated by hurricanes. When California battles wildfires, men and women flood the scene to help with recovery. The I.B.E.W. is a family. We look out for one another and our fellow man. We recover and we restore. We stand together and stand strong until the job is finished and hope is restored.
I'm proud to work here and am confident that should I ever need the kind of help Texas is in desperate need of now, the I.B.E.W. will be on my side.
Being raised I.B.E.W. -- knowing the seriousness of the work my own dad does, I've always had a great respect for the work the members do and the risks they take to return others to safety and comfort. I'd never expect a lineman to go on a trouble call in hurricane conditions. I'd never grow rude and impatient when my power is out for days after a hurricane. I realize the immense task the men and women face and I'd never wish for them to rush. This job they do -- without care, attention, and precision -- it can literally cost them their lives.
(To read more and to see some incredibly powerful photographs, click here.)
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