the light in a hurricane
A week ago, Hurricane Beryl made landfall as a Category 1 hurricane here in Texas. While this was a mild hurricane as hurricanes go in this part of the world (I mean, it was no Harvey), it wreaked havoc here in Houston: there was some localized flooding, branches came down everywhere, several people lost their homes from falling trees, and over 2.7 million people found themselves without power. The city has begun cleaning up, but it has been slow, primarily because as I type this, there are still hundreds of thousands of people without electricity, including yours truly. Couple this with the customary extreme heat in Houston during this time of year, to say this has been a miserable time would be an understatement.
(Friends, I’ll admit that offline, this has also been day 6 of poor Marcus having to listen to me rant. The truth is that we’ve been relatively fine: even though we’ve yet to receive electricity, we have a small generator that has been enough to power our fridge, a couple of lamps, our internet connection, a few devices, and several fans. So while we’re considerably sweaty, we also know we’re considerably lucky — because again, not Harvey. But what of the people who don’t have the means to have a generator, or who have a generator that results in their illness? The people who have medications that need to be refrigerated that are now unable to do so? And honestly, folks, this should never have happened. As my favourite meteorologists attest, Houston deserves a much better electricity distribution system, which should’ve been a priority since Hurricane Ike, when similar numbers of people lost power. In the sixteen years since, it appears that Centerpoint, our local distribution company, has done sod all to improve the lines, while its CEO, by the way, earns millions. And let’s face it: it’s not like Houston is a stranger to tropical systems. So when you hear that Houstonians are deeply frustrated about our current situation, that’s why.
But I digress.)
While we didn’t receive any damage to our home this time around, there was still one casualty: a giant cedar elm, which has stood on our land since before we bought our place over seventeen years ago. Luckily, it fell away from our home and across the street, thus missing any other houses, but our neighbour couldn’t get out of his driveway. So as soon as the storm passed, Marcus went outside with a hacksaw to start cutting branches off. And that’s when the magic happened.
One by one, neighbours came out of their houses to see what was happening. This is unusual: air conditioning might make an otherwise sweltering life liveable in Houston, but it does tend to keep people inside — we rarely meet our neighbours. Within a few minutes, every man with a power tool in a 4-block radius came out and started helping us chop large branches. Kids, from five years old to teenagers, helped remove them to a safe place. And then afterwards? The entire crew moved on to a neighbour’s house, whose huge oak tree had fallen and was leaning on her roof, to help her clear out the debris. She was so grateful, she started handing out chocolates.
And this is the light you’ll find in a hurricane, friends: when push comes to shove, folks go out of their way to care for each other. Total strangers bring out their power tools, share generators, distribute water. Businesses set up charging stations. Neighbours host cookouts and share their food with each other so it doesn’t go to waste. We’ve lived through three hurricanes and a few storms by this point, and this happens every single time — people show up. Kindness and generosity prevail. It may not be something we notice in our day-to-day lives — and certainly, something that seems absent from our politics and even our corporate executives, who often appear to be only in it for power and money — but it’s there. And witnessing this kindness and generosity gives me hope for humanity.
So, my wish for us this week is this: that we witness the light of others, and that we similarly be the light for others.
(Also, I wish that we all get our power back in Houston. I wish that hard.)
don't forget to mark the milestones.