GINNY BATES: WAKE UP

(Tara With Cherries, by Liza Cowan)

Here's another installment of my Great American Lesbian Novel (in progress), Ginny Bates. If you are new to reading GB, go to the section in the right-hand column labeled Ginny Bates to read background and find out how to catch up.

Late November 2013

After everyone left, Frances began cleaning the kitchen on autopilot. Ginny and Myra joined her for what little remained, while Margie drank tea and looked through her presents again. Myra finally shooed Frances out. Frances said "I need sleep" and hugged them goodnight. After a minute, Margie bundled up her gifts and followed Frances down the hall.

Ginny rinsed Margie's teacup and added it to the dishwasher already started. As she clicked the door shut and the faint whoosh began again, she said "Do we need to talk? How you doing, Grandma?"

"I don't know" said Myra, meeting Ginny's eyes. "I think -- I need to sleep on it, maybe."

"Well, then, sleep we shall. I'm heading for bed post haste. You?" Ginny looked at her hopefully. They had long ago accepted the difference in their cycles, that Ginny needed to sleep earlier in the night than Myra. They spent the first and last part of each bedsharing apart from each other, and they had come to relish the time alone they each day, at the end or beginning of the day. But Myra still wished, each morning, that she woke up to Ginny beside her, and Ginny still hoped, each night, that Myra would come lie down with her right away.

"Not yet" said Myra. Ginny kissed her without complaint, as she always did, and went to their bedroom.



Myra turned off lights front and back, checked the alarm, and went to her desk. She'd had an inkling, during one conversation that evening, about a chapter in her book, the one about lesbian-feminism as a movement of mothers, and she pulled out a blank legal pad to make notes. These lines turned into a paragraph, and an hour later, she'd written three pages. Good pages, she thought. She could go try to fit them into the chapter as it existed, but she was deeply tired, she could tell. She arranged the pad neatly in the middle of her desk, turned off her unused computer, and went to brush her teeth.

By the time she reached the bed, her chest felt tight and her mind confused. Some tripwire had been activated, either in what she wrote or just the release of heading for rest. She pulled off her clothes and laid them on the blanket chest for instant donning in case of emergency. She pulled back the covers gently -- Ginny tended to roll up in the comforter when she was on her own -- and slid her body near Ginny's.

As always, Ginny pushed herself in Myra's direction like a heat-seeking organism without coming close to consciousness. Once her length was alongside Myra, her breathing settled back into deep draughts, one hand splayed on Myra's hip. Myra waited for this connection to clear her chest. When it did not, she watched shadows on the ceiling for a minute, feeling acutely alone.

Finally she turned to face Ginny and said softly "Gin? Ginny? I need you to wake up."

Ginny's eyes opened wide and unfocused. "What? What's wrong?" Her voice sounded raw.

"Nothing's wrong. I mean, not anything...I'm upset. I need to talk, after all."

"Oh, god" said Ginny, closing her eyes again. "Can't it wait?"

"I know how much you hate being woke up like this, Ginny. I wouldn't ask if I could think of something else" said Myra.

"I do fucking hate it!" said Ginny, rolling onto her back in exasperation.

Myra turned and put her head on Ginny's shoulder. Ginny patted Myra's back automatically and licked her lips. "We got any water in here?" she said, not quite as cross.

Myra got the water bottle from her bedside table and handed it to Ginny, who drank half of it, sighed deeply, and said "Okay, I'm awake. What's up?"

"I'm not sure. I feel close to panic."

Ginny pulled Myra back onto her shoulder and said "Well, what's bumping around in your head?"

"Gillam. Mary Jo Risher losing her kids. I met her, you know. How I always wanted to walk the length of the Appalachian Trail but I won't ever get to, now. Phyllis Lyon having to go on without Del." Myra's voice broke a little on the last word.

"Shit, Myra, that's quite the hodge-podge" said Ginny. "What about Gillam, the pregnancy?"

"He's too young, Ginny. They both are. They're smart and strong and eager, but goddamnit, it's too soon. They'll be flying by the seat of their pants in no time, sleep deprived and aging fast" said Myra.

"No argument here" said Ginny. "But when is anybody ever really ready to become parents? I mean, even under ideal circumstances, it's a body blow of responsibility. And at least they're choosing it."

"How can you call it choice when they don't know fucking half of what's down the road? And they're making all kinds of unspoken assumptions" said Myra, her chest tightening more.

"Like what? Name one assumption" said Ginny.

"That I -- we'll be there to pick up the slack, for one" said Myra.

"I don't think that one is really unspoken" said Ginny. "I think we've been pretty vocal on that point."

"But...Once it's born -- she or he, 'it' sounds horrible, whatever -- we won't be able to travel like we have. I mean, I'll be guilty if I do. And hours of listening to crying, and sick babies, and putting everything in the house above hand level, and watching Gillam worry, always worried" said Myra.

"He won't any more than you did. I mean, yes, he'll carry more than his share of the weight. But you lived in joy when they were little, exhausted as you were, don't you remember? Every time you looked at either one of them, your face relaxed into pure joy" said Ginny. "He'll be just like you in that regard."

Myra was silent. Ginny continued "And yes, our schedule may change. But that's what we've been working on this year. I think we figure out what we really want to do and be, how much time we want to give in a week, say, and be blunt with them. Encourage them to get detailed with the aunties, too. Is this why you think you can't do the Appalachian Trail? Because if that's a life dream, we'll find a way for it to happen."

"Not just that. Also my joints, they're getting stiff. My muscles are fine, thanks to Carly's workout regimen, but it hurts to walk long distances now" said Myra.

"Have you talked to the doctor about it?" said Ginny, suddenly concerned.

"No. I don't want to take any more drugs than I already am" said Myra stubbornly.

"Then we'll ask Nancy" said Ginny, just as stubborn. "I bet there's supplements that could help."

"That's not the point, Ginny, don't go off on a detail." Myra was irritated.

"....Okay. What else did you say? Mary Jo Risher, that's children, and -- oh, Del Martin. Ah. Old age. Losing the ones we love" said Ginny in comprehension.

"Having a child is such a godawful risk" whispered Myra. "They don't know, until it's born and you realize...And even if they do have them all in a row, we'll be old, I mean really old, by the time they're just starting lives on their own. The grandkids, I mean. We may not see our great-grandchildren. Oh, god, I miss David and my mother and my Aunt Sarah, anyone older than me I could talk to."

Ginny's voice was thick with emotion as she whispered back "I miss Daddy, too. Achingly, sometimes."

"We're fifty years into this path, Ginny, there's no making a right turn or starting over."

"You sound scared, Myra."

"I'm terrified. So many things can go wrong, and some of them do. We're incredibly lucky, I know -- "

"That's your luck, Myra. You are blessed" said Ginny.

"I thought you always say I made my own luck?" said Myra, momentarily diverted.

"That, too. Both are true. I haven't slept enough and I declare both are true" said Ginny.

"All right" conceded Myra. "But either kind of luck isn't permanent."

"Nothing is permanent, and that's the point, isn't it?" said Ginny, hugging Myra close. "What's that quote over your desk, 'Grief is the price we pay for love'?"

"By Queen Elizabeth" murmured Myra. "I'm worried about the piper coming 'round."

"She was a formidable woman, Elizabeth Rex" began Ginny.

"No, not that Queen Elizabeth. The modern one is who said that. After 9/11" corrected Myra, irritation in her voice again.

"You need to cut me a little bit more slack than you are" said Ginny. "I'm operating on fumes here, you waker-upper."

Myra was silent.

"So, forget about Elizabeth" said Ginny. "Think about that friend of yours, the one who fell off the cliff above the Columbia."

"Why the fuck would you bring that up, it was a horrible way to die?" said Myra.

"Yes, and you were so torn up about it. You sat down with pencil and paper and calculated her rate of fall, remember, I had to help you with the math and the speed of gravity, until you knew exactly how many seconds there were between her going over the edge and landing on the rocks below. Then you counted out those seconds -- "

"Four point two" whispered Myra.

"You counted it out, feeling how long it was. And you decided that given who she was, how she lived, it was entirely possible she went through panic and disbelief to acceptance before she reached impact. All the stages of death lickety-split. Remember how comforting that was?" said Ginny.

"Chris thought it was nuts" said Myra.

"Chris doesn't live in the kind of fear you do. Her fear is different. Death only stalks you if you let it, Myra. Now, I think the only way you're going to feel better tonight is if you let yourself cry. Can you manage that or do I need to pull out an eyelash or something to get you started?" said Ginny. Fatigue was back in her voice.

Myra pushed as close as she could to Ginny and whispered "Don't ever leave me."

"I won't, never" said Ginny. The lie gave Myra permission to unlock her tears. They went to sleep five minutes later with Myra's face still wet.


© 2008 Maggie Jochild.

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SEABORN

My child was four the first time she saw the ocean.

We had driven down to Houston for a meeting of the regional Gay Academic Union, of which I had just been appointed coordinator despite my extreme youth of 19 years. I was engaged in a battle at my conservative state university (North Texas State University) to have its newly formed (by me) Denton Gay Alliance recognized as a student organization. The ACLU and other groups were assisting our case, and I had suddenly become out and a leader. I hadn't wanted either, and was under horrific stress.

It was 1974. Patty Hearst was newly kidnapped. Watergate hearings were under way. I was the comother of a four-year-old who had spent the past two days either cooped up in a car or at the periphery of long, agitated meetings. She was a child given to daydreaming and imaginary games, an early reader, extremely bright and good-natured, but she had been ignored for too long. When we finally peeled away from dinner in Houston and began driving to Galveston, she moved to the front seat, to my lap, twitchy with wanting to finally set eyes on the ocean. My partner remarked that Libby was a Pisces, it was in her nature to long for water. I wasn't sure, given the dark, Libby would be able to see it until we were right on it, but I could feel her overflowing impatience in her body and kept quiet about my doubts.

We were traveling with two other women we didn't know well. They talked us into renting a suite at the Hotel Galvez for the night, right on the water, instead of a budget motel. It was the off season, that may have helped us decide we could afford it. At any rate, once we reached Seawall Boulevard, there was the ocean alongside us. My daughter, Libby, began shrieking and could not honestly be quieted.


(Hotel Galvez, Galveston, from a breakwater)

We had bought her a plastic bucket and shovel in Houston. When we climbed out of our car at the hotel, she reached into the back, grabbed her bucket, and took off at a dead run, toward the wall which separated her from the beach. There was at least a ten foot drop, so I dashed after her. My partner, her mother, told the other two to check us in and followed.

I persuaded Libby to walk around instead of vaulting the wall by grabbing her hand and running at her pace. She had on blue overalls decorated with big flowers and a yellow T-shirt -- funny how clearly I can remember that. She stopped briefly to ditch her sneakers, which I had to run back and grab, then catch up with her again. She ran directly toward the waves, stopping only when the water reached her bare feet. She let out one scream of joy after another.

She looked down and saw a broken sand dollar in the millimeter of surf. "Can I touch it?" she asked me.

"You can pick it up. Any shell you want on this beach, you can have" we told her. She took off jogging again, her eyes trained on the sand. Every single scrap of a shell was picked up by her short fingers and dropped into her bucket. Within ten minutes, it was full to the brim. We were laughing, trailing along behind her: The quality of a shell didn't matter a whit to her, it was the "shellness" of it that mattered, its origin in the ocean. Her cheeks were bright red, her blondy/brown curls framing her exuberant face.

She ran back to me and emptied the bucket at my feet, commanding "Save those for me" and taking off to gather more. I had to sit down, I was laughing so hard. I noticed how the damp and cold immediately froze my ass, but I sat there and sorted through her haul, keeping all the shells which were not broken. I folded my shirt up to hold them and got to my feet to meet up with her and my partner again. They were far down the beach by this point.

With my partner's help, Libby calmed down enough to actually look at the shells she was snatching. We talked about function and the creatures who had lived in them, and she became more selective in her collection. After an hour, she had a second bucket full and her feet were blue chunks of ice. Her lips were chattering, but my partner had to pick her up and bodily remove her from the beach to get her back to our hotel room. Libby sobbed on her shoulder. We promised an early morning visit back to the sea as solace, and when we got to our room, we filled a tub with warm bubble bath and dumped in all her shells for her to play with. That stopped her weeping.

We put an armchair in front of the window piled with pillows and blankets, and she went to sleep there, watching Galveston beach. A beach that is no longer there.



I was born on the Gulf Coast and occasionally saw the ocean at a distance when we moved from one place to another, twice flying over it for long distances, but it was not until I was 12 that I actually put my body into the sea. This was at Praia Atalaia outside the small city of Aracaju, Brazil, where we went to live for a year. The South Atlantic there was beautiful in an unreal way, jeweled tones of every hue, and the sand like sugar. It was warm and shallow, and my initial fear of the waves -- which I tried to hide, shameful to be so afraid at 12 -- eventually gave way to a kind of delight that, had I been Libby at four, I could only have expressed with screaming.

A few days later, a huge storm hit the city. We were in a hotel, four of us in one room, no TV, every book read, and the boredom was intense. We knew not a soul in this city, spoke no Portugese, and even going out for a snack was problematic. But my father decided we should go to the beach during the afternoon drench, he had already been given a company jeep, and that road, at least, he had driven before. Somehow he talked my mother into it.

The jeep was a battered jungle green, with a canvas top and zip-down plastic windows that did not shut out all the rain. My little brother and I sat on a ridged metal seat across the back which amplified every bump in the road. Daddy had learned from someone on his new crew that windshield wipers in Brazil were called "pisca-piscas", an onomatopoeic term which made him and Mama laugh every time they said it. The pisca-piscas could not keep up with a tropical downpour. Daddy drove slowly. There were few people on the road, and no one at all on Praia Atalaia.

He drove out onto the sand, to the firm strand beyond the dunes, and parked to face the water. We sat as the sun set into the dunes behind us and the rain stopped, though it was still storming out at sea, we could tell. As it got dark, I became aware that something eerie was happening in the surf, in the rills along shore. Mama said "Look! Phosphorus!"

She explained about the tiny light-emitting organisms which filled the water in front of us, becoming agitated by motion enough to fire their bulbs. It was ghostly beautiful. Bill moved up to sit between them, straddling the gear shift. I leaned forward so my chin rested on Mama's shoulder. We were strangers in a strange land, but we were together.

Mama began talking about Columbus, Cortez, Pizarro. She told us how Europe looted the New World, loading their wooden ships so heavily that they sank in storms like this, over and over, but greed kept them trying to haul more away from our shores. She began describing life aboard ship, the endless creak of wood, the terrible living conditions below deck, the names of sails and rigging. Mama had never been aboard a sailing vessel in her life, but she was a voracious and retentive reader with a love of language, and she made it come to life for us.

She imagined out loud the terror of a storm at sea, being helpless at the mercy of wave and wind. I was staring through the front windshield into the distance over the depths, where clouds occasionally lit up with lightning. Suddenly, on the horizon, I saw a galleon, its canvas in tatters, one mast broken, headed for capsize on a sandbar or rocks. I cried out loud and jerked backward. I saw it, I know I did. Mama laughed with a thrill in her voice.

She began reciting one of the many poems her generation learned in school, back when children were encouraged to memorize. Daddy joined in on occasional lines. My spine was taut with tingles. When she was done, Daddy kissed her and started the jeep for us to head home.

On First Looking into Chapman's Homer

Much have I traveled in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne;
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific – and all his men
Looked at each other with a wild surmise–
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

(John Keats, 1816)


(Praia Atalaia, Aracaju, Brasil; photo by Paulo Favero)

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HURRICANE IKE: EIGHT DAYS LATER

(Elizabeth Jones of San Leon sits with her four-month-old grandchild; photo by Sharon Steinmann of The Houston Chronicle)

The news cycle in the rest of the country appears to have moved on from Hurricane Ike. I can understand this: The near-meltdown of our entire financial system and the resultant evil seizing of yet another opportunity by the Bush administration to shift the cost of their failure onto working people is critically important. This regime will continue to hurl their feces at us until we chop off their hands. However, I note a huge volume of folks still tuning in here at this blog to find coverage of what, for them, is first-hand disaster. I particularly want to shout out to the people dialing into us from the Gulf Coast -- you there in Point Bolivar, High Island, League City, Brazoria, Beaumont, Orange, Seabrook, running on generator, perhaps? -- who are coming here. I'm thinking about you.

And it's not just me. I'm getting daily hits on Ike posts from people in Trondheim, Norway; Boquete, Nicaragua; South Korea, New Zealand, Iran, Sri Lanka, Chile, South Africa, as well as all 50 states, looking for information about how it goes in the aftermath.


Many local and online news sources have gone either silent or perfunctory. Perhaps it is a concerted media blackout, the corporate powers and/or Republicans trying, once again, to reduce disaster to a short cycle of sensationalist reporting followed by the next Anna Nicole Smith frenzy, so large numbers of people won't ask awkward questions about civic responsibility and governance. When Letterman runs his nightly "Great Moments in Presidential Speeches" moment, a frequent past excerpt is Ronnie Raygun declaring "Government isn't the solution to our problems, government IS the problem" with his shellacked dyed hair the first clue to his Alzheimer-plaque-riddled oblivion and his B-actor smile not hiding the coldness of his neoconservative eyes. For millenia, people have chosen to form governments in order to protect them from being swept away: Consolidate community resource so when the unstoppable strikes, we can save the lives of strangers. Leaving this to individuals, or to charity groups, has never worked long-term. It took a huckster like Reagan and the metastatic generations after him to convince average Americans to vote against their own long-term interests. How many more enormous swaths of geography, population, and culture do we have to lose to subsistence existence before we demand a New Deal?

If you live along the San Andreas fault, take note: When the Big One strikes, if these folks are still in power, you will be SOL.

(Richard Crook celebrates with a dog he rescued at Crystal Beach on September 18; photo by Eric Gay/AP)

And yeah, some of the TV shots portray big beach houses rendered to kindling, but the overwhelming majority of those whose economic survival has been destroyed by Hurricane Ike are working class and/or on fixed incomes. Tourism helps maintain the tax base of many Gulf Coast communities, but the tourists want a service industry to keep them happy on vacation, and those jobs are now indefinitely absent.

This section of coast also draws a high population of Snowbirds, retirees from northern states who come here to spend their elder years in a trailer on Social Security (because it was cheap to live here). Shrimpers, rice field workers, trawlers, rig monkeys, migrant farmers, and fast food workers don't have any other means of support.

Over one million evacuated elsewhere and those still not able to return home are wondering WTF to do now, without residences or jobs. Over 22,000 are still in shelters in Texas. It's safe to assume these people are hard workers, devoted to their families, often disabled, more likely to be people of color or children or single mothers than the average population. They will do the best they can, as usual. But we have to make sure Republican leadership and the media are not allowed to again perpetrate the smear job that was likewise done on the residents of New Orleans: They are just as deserving of respect and dignity as Katina evacuees were and are.

(Gerald Barnett, 10, takes a box in a human chain of volunteers preparing to handout boxes of food to Houston residents; photo by Marcio Jose Sanches, AP)

One striking exception to the trickling away of reporting on the aftermath is the Houston Chronicle online. This newspaper, which had an edition ready to hit the streets before Ike's winds had died down, is doing an unprecedented job with getting information out on its blog. They are utilizing every possible facet of online technology and resource in creative and community-created ways to go above and beyond "reporting the news": They are serving their community in profound and untiring outlets. This is absolutely a Pulitzer-worthy effort.

Because they are almost the only source for current, useful news, I'll be quoting from them heavily in this round-up. In every case I'll give you a link to go directly to the horse's mouth, because what is there is a goldmine of information, far more than I can even allude to. This is an example of what a newspaper can do which will never be offered by blogs: In the field reporting, documentation, and community connection.

In addition, the Houston Chronicle is compiling a spectacular photograph collection, both from their own photographers (go here and scroll down to the Photography section) as well as making available images sent to them by online viewers here. I spent hours going through the hundreds of photos taken by journalists, which are arranged intelligently, download instantly, and are extremely high quality, both in terms of format and content. In addition, there is geographic coherence to some of the files, i.e., all photos from Galveston or the Bolivar Peninsula on a given day. Many of the images illustrating this post are from these files, and I do recommend viewing them yourself here. However, I have to issue a trigger warning: Some of these photos are heartbreaking. One in particular showed a dead animal on the Bolivar Peninsula with strong clues as to what it endured as it died, and I haven't been able to put it out of my mind since. I took care not to bring the hardest of these photos to this post, and if you don't want to see the underbelly of tragedy, best not to look through all of the Chronicle's photolog.

(Agitated water moccasin on the Bolivar Peninsula)

The City of Austin has announced it is shutting down our Convention Center as of Thursday, September 25, for "repairs". I find this suspicious given that over 1,000 Hurricane Ike evacuees are currently living there with no place else to go. Supposedly FEMA officials have the "goal" of getting them into temporary housing elsewhere, but our local news reports that the vouchers FEMA has issued some people for hotel/motel lodging have been refused by those motels because either (a) there was no clearance with the business from FEMA or (b) the people applying for the vouchers failed to make a second confirmation phone call. Does this run-around sound familiar to you?

In order to get transitional housing, FEMA will have to "determine that the applicant's house was not only damaged by Ike, but has to be deemed inaccessible and uninhabitable." Wonder how long that will take? Let's ask someone in one of the trailers outside New Orleans.

More than 400,000 people statewide have registered for FEMA assistance, and about 135,500 families had qualified for government-funded hotels, but apparently only 9,000 have received transitional vouchers. The KXAN article reports that Austin city officials have stated "they are still not going to turn people away. They are looking at the Delco Center as a possibility for those who by next Thursday are still not set up in transitional housing." For those of you not familiar with Austin, the Delco Center is a sports center 15 miles and over half an hour's drive from the heart of Austin with NO walking-distance food or shopping outlets.

To register with FEMA, call 1-800-621-3362, TTY 1-800-462-7585 or visit www.FEMA.gov (all Austin public libraries offer free internet access).

When dealing with FEMA:
• It will take approximately 15 minutes to complete the application process. Only one family member per household should register. Before you call or go online, gather the following basic information to speed the process:
• Social Security number (including your spouse's);
• Daytime telephone number where applicant can be reached;
• Address of the damaged property;
• Current mailing address;
• Brief description of disaster-related damages and losses;
• Insurance information; and
• Direct deposit information to help speed delivery of funds.
• If you have losses that are covered by insurance, please contact your insurance company prior to calling FEMA; it could speed up FEMA's delivery of assistance for any remaining uninsured essential items for which you may be eligible.
• When the home becomes accessible for inspection, you should notify FEMA through the helpline at 800-621-3362 or by visiting a Disaster Recovery Center. FEMA may provide additional assistance after the home has been inspected. If an applicant is denied assistance, the Helpline can also assist in an appeal of that decision.

To protest the shunting of Austin evacuees to a distant location, contact Sara Hartley, Office of Emergency Management, (512) 802-1469 (pgr) Hurricane Ike Media Hotline, (512) 404-4653. Or you can send an e-mail to the City of Austin Public Information Officer via this page: PIO form.

(Matthew Harris, 12, hugs his mother Karen Harris as they wait in line to board a bus that will take them out of Galveston September 13; photo by LM Otero, AP)

Galveston is now allowing residents to return as of 6 a.m. Wednesday, September 24, in a staged, tightly-monitored fashion. Only those who live behind the seawall will be allowed to stay. Residents who live in the West End can check on their property, but must leave before curfew begins at 6 p.m. Violators risk a $2,000 fine. Every resident will be stopped at a checkpoint and given an information sheet, letting them know what to expect and who to contact, according to City Manager Steve LeBlanc.

Here's some details:

• The West End has no water. The East End has compromised water supplies, not enough to fight fires, and if the water line extends above an electrical outlet or switch, turning on that switch will cause a fire which cannot be stopped.
• Gas service to every home has been turned off. LeBlanc said residents need to contact a technician with their gas provider to arrange for service to be returned.
• Residents will have to sort and bag their own debris and trash.
• Very little retail is open.
• LeBlanc urged residents to re-consider bringing young children and the elderly in the city, given its condition. He also advised residents who plan to clean up their property to bring rubber gloves and face masks to protect them from the mold.

(A house lies across Highway 87 near Crystal Beach September 15; photo by Smiley N Pool for The Houston Chronicle)

On the Bolivar Peninsula, search and rescue has been concluded and all but about 35 residents have now departed, leading County Judge Jim Yarbrough to back off from his threat to forcefully remove residents. An article at the Huffington Post states "Authorities plan to allow residents back to the peninsula next week to examine their property. Because the main road is impassible in many spots, they'll load people up in dump trucks and other heavy vehicles."

(Shackle the lioness who rode out the hurricane at the First Baptist Church in Crystal Beach, Texas; AP photo)
Shackle the lioness has been taken to the mainland. In addition, the tiger at large (whose name was never given but I've been thinking of him as Guillermo Blake) has been captured and taken to safety.

(An alligator crosses Gulfway Drive on the north side of the Bolivar Peninsula, September 15; photo by Tony Gutierrez/AP)

About 1.4 million customers remained without power statewide, including about half of the Houston area. For a map of where power has been restored in the Houston area, click here at the Houston Chronicle. As of this writing, the local utility outages are reported as:

• CenterPoint: 46% out
• Entergy Texas: 29% out
• Sam Houston: 35% out
• TNMP: 24% out

As of September 19, CenterPoint Energy has released the map below showing estimated time for completion of substantial restoration (which they define as 80%).


The Houston Chronicle is maintaining a comprehensive list of Where to Get and Give Help (including make donations), in every conceivable category. This is the best source out there, bookmark it.

(Blanca Linares, 76, originally from El Salvador, smiles as she gets a bag of ice from 13-year-old volunteer Daniel Medrano in Galveston; photo by Julio Cortez, The Houston Chronicle)

The Houston Chronicle has a Guide to Tree Debris, determining how to tell if a tree can be saved, getting reliable tree-damage assessment and removal, trees that survive hurricanes, how to get rid of vegetative debris and haul it yourself.

(Salatheia Bryant-Honors, Co-Pastor of Reedy Chapel A.M.E., prays; photo by Nick de la Torre, The Houston Chronicle)

The Houston Chronicle is running a "Fact or Fiction" section to research and report back on rumors arising in Ike's aftermath. A few of their answers are:

• The rumor that "If you're out of power for five days, FEMA will pay you $2,000" appears to be false. The Chronicle reports "The FEMA Web site shows no indication that they are cutting checks for any amount of money due to Hurricane Ike, much less $2,000, nor is the agency offering any money to people because their homes have lost power."
• The rumor "The statue that commemorates the 1900 hurricane in Galveston was destroyed" is also false. The monument is still standing.
• The rumor that "All Houston-area YMCAs are open to the community for showers and battery-charging" is mostly true. But you need to know which YMCA's are open and have power. the Chronicle is providing that information here (PDF file).

(Photo by James Nielsen, The Houston Chronicle)

From the Houston Chronicle, an expansive and very helpful guide to living without power, Weathering Ike: What To Do After The Storm. This includes:

• Games to play with friends and family when the power is off
• Accounts of people doing generator and resource-sharing
• Recipes for those without power
• Places to take the kids, including libraries, museums, YWCA's and malls with power
• Tips on avoiding injury and disease after a storm
• Should you trash or eat defrosting food?
• Things to keep in mind when filing your insurance claim (with contact numbers for most major insurers)
• An updated list of distribution centers supplying ice, water and meals (MREs) for residents
• Phone number for hotel and motel chains in Houston
• Saving your wine

I'll reprint here one section from this excellent series: Tips to protect your home from power surge, by Corilyn Shropshire and Tara Dooley

"When the lights go on, it will be unexpected, the lucky ones with power say. Here are some tips to be prepared so you don't blow it when the lights go on in your neighborhood:
• Unplug it: Unplug all appliances, especially sensitive electronics such as computers, plasma televisions. Turn off air conditioners. New homes with electric water heaters sometimes have switches. Turn those off. When power first arrives in crowded neighborhoods, a short-term overload is possible. That can damage electronics.
• Breaker box: Stay away. Those boxes are often poorly marked and messing with the main breaker can cause more trouble than it's worth when the power goes on.
• Take it slowly: Leave one light on. But once power is up, plug in small appliances first. Then switch on the bigger ones. Finally, turn on the air conditioner.
• Check your connections: Energy companies are responsible for the system until it hits your home or business. The rest is up to you. Check the connections from the wires to the house. If there is a problem, call an electrician.
• Be mindful of dangers: Just because the power is on in your home, does not mean all is right in the entire world. Just yours. Remember to stay away from low hanging or downed power lines. Assume they are dangerous.
• Dig carefully: It's not just about the electricity. Gas lines are also a concern. Underground lines can be disturbed by well meaning maintenance efforts. Before digging holes in the ground to fix a fence, make sure the underground utility lines are marked. You are required to call 811 for the service that will mark the lines. Remember, there may be a wait for this service."

For evacuees returning to their homes, Bobby Hankinson wrote for the Houston Chronicle a guide to What to bring back:

"If you evacuated from Houston or its surrounding communities for Hurricane Ike, please wait to return home until your city leaders give their public approval.
When it's safe to return, take the opportunity to pack accordingly. You may want to consider acquiring a few additional items while you're in an area that was not as hard hit by the storm.

"Here are some suggestions for what to bring with you, especially if you will be returning to a home with no power:

• Water. Buy bottled water for drinking and fill up jugs for sanitation.
• Gasoline. Lines in our area are very long, and fuel is in short supply.
• Ice. Fill up a cooler.
• Non-perishable food. Some supermarkets are open, but lines are long.
• Batteries.
• Flashlights.
• Candles.
• Matches.
• Prescription refills.
• Baby wipes and hand sanitizer.
• Cleaning supplies.
• Charged cell phone and laptop, plus a car charger for electronics.
• Disposable camera to document damage for insurance.
• Written list of important phone numbers.
• Extra towels, socks and underwear. Even if your water is on, washing machines need power to run.

Commenter cb mallard shares these additional tips to homeowners:
1. Disposable latex gloves to wear under work gloves.
2. Large clear and black garbage bags. Clear means save, black means throw away. (This is invaluable because everything is covered in mud - so items and piles become indistinquishable)
3. Small kitchen garbage bags (prior water,sewage, etc. - put under toilet seat , then tie and thow away.
4. Sense of humor. Find a stuffed animal and set it on an upholstered chair in your yard - any kind of trashy yard art like that (a) helps you find your home when trash is 8' high and (b) lifts spirits. We put a big stuffed bunny on a Harley.
5. Have a watch or alarm set for every 60 min to take a water break.
6. Take 6 million pictures.
7. When in doubt or really sad about something - keep it, every heirloom doesn't have to be thrown away today; some can be rescued, or thrown away later. CDs can be washed off, or you may not be ready.
8. Find out from state about generator, power washer allotments. You will need both if you are going to clean up. This is not the time to go off brand - get one from Lowes or Home Depot or someplace to which it can be returned if it doesn't work.
10. What you need in the begininng are people with lots of upper body strength (young, strong) ripping up carpet and tearing out walls, etc. calls for that. Someone with less strength can take pictures (take 2 of everything from different angles, take the ceilings, etc.)
11. Have a picture pile. People brought things out by wheelbarrow and I took pictures before we put in the 8' trash piles. This is so crucial for insurance - both flood, FEMA, etc.
12. Apply for all the help you can get. Don't worry, if you are not eligible you won't get any. This is a good job for the person who doesn't have a lot of upper body strength.
13. You need a bag with Social Security cards, driver licenses, electric bills, mortage papers, insurance papers. The Red Cross and Salvation Army were great. Go early in the process and early in the morning! Take a book to read and plan to be there 4 hours."

And here's one of the recipes for those without power, from Nicki: 'I make a "salad" from rinsed and drained black beans, drained corn and a can of Rotel. It's better with fresh cilantro and lime juice, but at least it's spicy and a relief from the peanut butter sandwiches.'

(Sculptures of the Blues Brothers sit in chairs in front of a demolished business on HWY 87, September 18, in Crystal Beach; photo by Mark Wilson/Getty Images)

If you are one of those who will be returning home to assess damage, here's some advice from Texas Watch, a statewide consumer advocacy organization active in insurance, nursing home resident protection, patient protection and consumer law issues:

• Take Documentation.
• Make a comprehensive inventory of the household items lost in the storm, and keep receipts from emergency repairs and temporary housing costs.
• Track Communications with Your Insurance Company.
• Keep a log of all communications with your insurance carrier, including anytime they fail to return a call or miss a scheduled appointment.
• Be Careful What You Sign.
• Do not sign anything you do not fully understand. Make sure all documents are explained thoroughly so that you know what you are signing and how it will affect your claim.
• Ask for Proof.
• If your insurer tells you that you are not covered, require them to offer proof. The burden is on the carrier to point to the exclusion in your policy.
• Complain if Necessary.
• If you believe that you are being treated unfairly by your insurance carrier, file a complaint with the Texas Department of Insurance and/or the Texas Attorney General's Office.

Contact Texas Watch's Ike Insurance Hotline at (888) 738-4226 for assistance in filing complaints. (Staffed M-F, 9-5 CDT) This toll free hotline will be the clearinghouse of information and a way to compile information about potential insurance abuse.
Texas Watch will not be able to directly solve victims' insurance problems. However, it will monitor complaints and refer them to the appropriate government agencies, such as the Texas Department of Insurance and the Texas Attorney General's office.

(A cat looks down from a a tree in Galveston's flooded West end; photo by LM Otero/AP)

Over 20,000 cattle and hundreds of horses have died or are dying as a result of consuming salt-contamined grass and water. In addition, Hurricane Ike reportedly broke down more than 90 percent of livestock fencing in Orange, Jefferson and Chambers counties. Officials with the Texas Department of Agriculture said the situation is "unprecedented."

As I reported in a prior post, owners of livestock may contact their local emergency management officials, or call the Texas Animal Health Commission at 1-800-550-8242 extension 296.

To assist in the care of farm animals in the stricken region, you can:
• Offer financial donations through the Texas AgriLife Extension Service at their website or by calling 979-845-2604. They are setting up horse and cattle feed donation and distribution sites.
• Contact the Texas Department of Agriculture at their Hay Hotline or call 1-800-Tell-TDA to sell or donate animal feed, hay, or other resources such as feed and water troughs.

(Employee Marleny Alvarado transports a cart full of animals from Galveston into the Houston SPCA; photo by Dave Rossman, The Houston Chronicle)

There simply isn't enough good to be said about the first- and second-responders to this disaster, many of whom are working on their own time to do heroic jobs. Any way you can honor and assist this folks, do it. I'm happy to report that not only did Gaido's Restaurant in Galveston survive, they prepared a sit-down linen dinner for exhausted rescue workers this week. Way to go.

(Mary Kay Gaido of Gaido's Restaurant prepares tables for a free lunch in Galveston for about 1,000 first responders helping with the recovery efforts following Hurricane Ike on September 18; photos by Scott Olson/Getty Images and Matt Rourke/AP)

Bits and Bobs:
• Texas oyster production has been hammered as a result of habitat destruction by Hurricane Ike. Shrimp and fish seem to still be in full supply.

(Thousands of fish are revealed on the shoulder of a road as flood waters recede in Orange, Texas; photo by Eric Gay/AP)

• The waves of Hurricane Ike have uncovered a ragged shipwreck near Port Morgan, Alabama that archeologists say could be a two-masted Civil War schooner that ran aground in 1862 or another ship from some 70 years later.

(Rabbi Roy Walter leads the Congregation Emanu El Shabbat; photo by Eric Kayne, The Houston Chronicle)

[Cross-posted at Group News Blog.]

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BASTA PASTA

You may have noticed that Myra cooks a lot of pasta dishes, even before Frances came on the scene. This isn't just because of Ginny's world-class marinara: it's because cooking with pasta is a great way to enrich your eating pleasure.

I eat a lot of pasta. It's an extremely healthy, satisfying meal if done right. To begin with, get whole-grain or vegetable-based pasta if you are buying the dried kind. White flour pressed into shapes is still white flour, and all the hoo-ha about carbs being bad for you is really just another way of saying don't eat white flour. We NEED grains, but go for whole grains which won't spike your blood sugar or leave you craving more in an hour. If possible, buy fresh pasta; you can freeze this and still get mostly the same flavor and benefit. Plus, the cooking time is extremely short, often just a minute, with the fresh stuff.

I don't use jarred pasta sauces. I can make delicious sauces (and so can you) in less than five minutes by using equal amounts of butter and really good olive oil (you need both for flavor) to sautee chopped onion and any fresh or frozen vegetable for five minutes. Add minced garlic, pepperincino flakes, and a fresh herb or two for the last minute, and you're done. Sauces should be to dress pasta, not drown it -- especially if you're starting with good pasta in the first place. Sprinkle on cheese after you plate the pasta and sauce.

Use a lot of water to boil your pasta, to keep it from sticking. Add salt, generously, to the boiling water -- this will not be showing up in the final dish, don't worry about it. NEVER add oil to your pasta water, you ruin the ability of the sauce to marry with the sticky pasta if you do. Scoop out the pasta when nearly done and add it to your sauce, so it blends and finishes cooking in the sauce. Save the pasta water to thin your sauce if necessary, it's full of nutrients.

Pasta has a long history, even longer if you factor in noodles which were brought to Italy from China by Marco Polo. Each small region in Italy has developed its own pasta shapes and uses. Try buying a variety of shapes and experiment with making your own sauces. Here's some help to get you started.



JARRED PASTA SAUCES: (f you must)

Cook's Illustrated recommended Bertolli tomato and basil sauce, Francesco Rinaldi traditional marinara, Prego marinara, Barilla marinara, Newman's Own marinara, and Muir Glen organic tomato basic sauce (all with some qualifiers, see link for details).

Check out America's Test Kitchen video on how to make a great 45 minutes marinara sauce for pasta.

MATCHING PASTA SHAPES WITH SAUCE (from Cook's Illustrated):
Are there any rules in matching pasta shapes with sauce? In Italy there is a fine art to matching pasta shapes and sauces, but here at Cook’s, we are a bit freer with the pairing and endorse just one general rule: you should be able to eat the pasta and sauce easily in each mouthful. This means that the texture and consistency of the sauce should work with the pasta shape. And no matter what the shape of the pasta or type of sauce, we adamantly believe that the pasta, not the sauce, should be the focal point.
Long strands are best with smooth sauces or pestos, or sauces with very small chunks such as oil and garlic. In general, wider long noodles, such as fettuccine, can more easily support slightly chunkier sauces than can very thin noodles like spaghetti. Wide pastas like fettuccine or tagliatelle are also well suited to creamy sauces like Alfredo.

Short tubular or molded pasta shapes do an excellent job of trapping chunkier sauces. Sauces with very large chunks are best with shells, rigatoni, or other large tubes. Sauces with small to medium chunks make more sense with fusilli or penne.

My addendum: Pasta that's great for soups include acini de pepe, anellini, capellini, conchiglie, ditalini, egg noodles, fideo, orzo, or tripolini.

IDENTIFYING PASTA SHAPES (from the National Pasta Association and Cook's Thesaurus:

(Acini de pepe or peppercorn) -- Soups and broths

(Anellini) -- Soups, complements to salads

(Bucatini, hollow in the center) -- Good for almost any sauce, casseroles or stir-fry.

(Campanelle or bells) -- Great with meat, cream, vegetable or oil based sauces, also good in salads

(Capellini or angel hair, means fine hairs) -- Best in thin, delicate sauces; also break in half and use in soups or stir-fry

(Cappalletti, means little hats) -- Good for medium chunkier sauces

(Casarecci or cesariccia) -- Usually served with meat sauces, also good in casseroles

(Cavatappi, means corkscrew) -- Good with meat, cream, vegetable or oil based sauces, also good in pasta salads

(Cavatelli, looks like tiny hot dog buns) -- Commonly served with thick, chunky sauces or in pasta salads, pairs nicely with meat, cream, seafood or vegetable sauces

(Conchiglie, also called small pasta shells, pipe rigate, or maruzze) -- Often served with tomato or meat sauces, or in pasta salads

(Conchiglioni or jumbo shells) -- Best when stuffed with your favorite mixtures of cheese, meat and vegetables

(Creste di galli, means cockscomb) -- Can be topped with any sauce, baked, or put in soups, salads and stir-fry dishes

(Ditalini, means little thimbles) -- Can be used as the base of any dish, bake it, stir it into soups, or create great salads and stir-fry dishes

(Egg noodles, come in medium and wide) -- Traditionally used for stroganoff; can be baked, tossed in soups or salads, or topped with cream, tomato, cheese or meat sauces

(Farfalle or bowties) -- Smaller version is called farfallini, larger version is called farfallone; often served with chunky sauces or in pasta salads

(Fettuccini) -- Also called tagliatelle. Classically served with meat sauce or Bolongnese, also popular with Alfredo.

(Fideo) -- Commonly used in soup

(Fusilli or twisted spaghetti) -- Can be topped with any sauce, broken in half and added to soups, or turned into a beautiful salad; also bakes well in casseroles

(Fusilli col buco) -- Good choice for pasta salads and casseroles, or for serving with hearty, thick sauces

(Gemelli, means twins) -- Great with any sauce, or in pasta salads or casseroles

(Gigli, means lilies or death to Ben Affleck's career) -- Perfect for heavier sauces, like cheese, meat and tomato or it is a good addition to a number of casseroles

(Gnochette, made to look like gnocchi, the popular potato dumplings) -- Good with thick sauces

(Gramigna) -- Good with light sauces

(Lasagna, From “lasanum,” Latin for pot) -- Create original lasagna casseroles by using chopped vegetables, cheeses and any kind of sauce

(Linguini, means little tongues) -- Good with most sauces.

(Lumacone, means giant snails) -- Usually stuffed and baked

(Macaroni, also called elbow macaroni, means dumpling) -- A highly versatile shape that can be topped with any sauce, baked, or put in soups, salads and stir-fry dishes

(Malloreddus) -- A Sardinian pasta very similar to gnocchetti, except that it's often flavored with saffron

(Maltagliati) -- Means "poorly cut" in Italian, and the name is used for various kinds of pasta scraps; great addition to casseroles or thick sauces

(Manicotti, means small muffs) -- Stuff with a mixture of meat, cheese and vegetables, top with your favorite sauce, and bake

(Orecchiette, means little ears) -- Commonly served with thick, chunky sauces or in pasta salads

(Orzo, means barley) -- Can be topped with any sauce, added to soups, or baked as a casserole. Perfect as a side dish as well as a main course

(Penne, means quills or feathers) -- Smaller size is called mostaccioli, means little mustaches. Ridged version is called penne rigate and is ideal to lock-in flavor. Pairs nicely with chunky meat, chunky vegetable, cream, or oil based sauces; great for baking dishes

(Pipe rigate) -- Smaller version called pipette rigate. Pairs nicely with chunky meat, chunky vegetable, cream, or oil based sauces

(Quadrefiore) -- Pairs nicely with chunky meat, chunky vegetable, cream, or oil based sauces; great for baking dishes

(Radiatori, means radiators) -- Do a good job of scooping up chunky sauces; also good in casseroles, salads and soups

(Ravioli) -- Fill with cheese, meats, vegetables and seasonings; serve with a red sauce. butter, oil or cream

(Reginette) -- Wide, flat ribbon pasta that has rippled edges on both sides, use like lasagna

(Riccioli, means curl) -- Twisted shape holds bits of meat, vegetables and cheese, so it works well with a variety of sauces, or create fun salads, baked casseroles, or stir-fry meals

(Rigatoni, means large grooved) -- Perfect with any sauce, from cream or cheese to the chunkiest meat sauces

(Rocchetti, means spools) -- Perfect for preparing casseroles and salads

(Rotini) -- Works well with chunky sauces, or create fun salads, baked casseroles, or stir-fry meals

(Ruote, means wheels) -- Also called ruotine. Pairs nicely with meat, cream, seafood or vegetable sauces, popular in pasta salads

(Spiralini) -- Larger version called spirali. Good with chunky sauces, or in pasta salads

(Strozzapreti, means priest strangler) -- Resembles a rolled towel. Pairs nicely with meat, cream, seafood and vegetable sauces

Tagliatelle -- see fettuccini

(Torchio) -- Little torches good for scooping up chunky sauces

(Tortellini) -- Typically stuffed with meat, cheese or vegetables, commonly served in a broth or cream sauce

(Tortiglioni) -- Commonly used to add decoration to salads or paired with a simple sauce

(Trenne) -- Triangular and cut into short lengths, with smaller version called trennette. Don't confuse this with trenette, which is a long ribbon of pasta. Good with chunky sauces or in casseroles

(Tripolini) -- A tiny bow tie shaped pasta used in soups and salads or paired with a simple sauce

(Troffiette) -- A Ligurian specialty, these small, twisted bits of pasta often served with pesto

(Tubini) -- Perfect for chunky sauces and meat dishes, also good in salads, baked dishes and stir-fry meals

(Vermicelli, means little worms) -- Good with thin, smooth sauces or pesto

(Ziti, means bridegrooms) -- Perfect for chunky sauces and meat dishes

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