Recalling Storms as Hurricane Season Begins

Hurricane season begins on June 1st and lasts through November.  

Hurricanes are a fact of life on the Texas coast but, due to advance warnings and preparedness, storm deaths have decreased dramatically since the 1900 hurricane crept upon unsuspecting Galveston residents. Evacuations in low-lying coastal areas have prevented countless deaths from storm surges.

Those who are not in danger of storm surge and wish to "ride out" the winds with a "hurricane party" should know
that forceful gusts ram buildings again and again, slamming them with debris and dropping pressure on the leeward side. One window break will create sudden

pressure inside the building, sometimes blowing the roof off, collapsing supportive structures, or popping out other windows.

Eighty to ninety percent of residents in hurricane areas have never experienced one. This is frightening because of the complacency that can result. There's nothing like seeing

for yourself, a Ford Mustang jutting out of a second-story window to put a healthy respect in your heart for hurricanes.

I remember September 1961, my dad listening to updates on the radio about Hurricane Carla and telling my mom and me that it was time to go into our storm shelter. Carla had danced westward across the Gulf of Mexico and would bash the Texas coastline between Port O'Connor and Port Lavaca with twelve foot tides and wind gusts measuring 170 mph.  We were only a few miles inland.

Rain fell in silver sheets and limbs bent in the wind. I can't recall just how long we stayed in that little underground, concrete room but we did come out briefly while the eye passed over. All was still and quiet. I watched a flock of white gulls circling above us, trapped in the calm center of that storm. Very shortly, the wind returned in gusts from the opposite direction and we took shelter again.


When we emerged the second time, 16 inches of rain had been dumped on the land, limbs littered the ground and the first tree in a row of five large cedars bordering our yard lay across the road, brutally twisted from the two foot stump that remained. Our house sat unscathed. We drove around town surveying the damage.

I remember uprooted trees, battered roofs, and broken windows. Stories circulated of homes washed off foundations and straws driven through telephone poles along the coast. Forty six people lost their lives and $2 billion worth of property was demolished. That experience left a strong impression on my young mind and I learned to respect hurricanes.