Friday, September 1, 2017
thenorphletpaperboy: Why I Sent The Check
thenorphletpaperboy: Why I Sent The Check: ARKANSAS BY Richard Mason Why I Se...
Why I Sent The Check
ARKANSAS
BY
Richard
Mason
Why I Sent the Check
Portland, Texas, (a bedroom
community of Corpus Christi) August 2nd, 1970
7:00 A. M.
“Hey, Vertis, there’s a tropical storm in the Gulf, and they have just
named it Celia…looks like it’s heading this way.”
“How strong is it?”
“Well, it’s getting close to seventy-five miles an hour, which will
make it a hurricane.”
“Do you think we should leave? Maybe drive up to San Antonio?”
“No, I don’t think so. Right now the forecasters are saying it might
even weaken by the time it hits the coast, and be nothing more than a good
rain. I’m going on to work, but I’ll plot up the co-ordinates and let you know
what it looks like at noon.”
Noon, August 2nd
“Well, it looks about the same
as this morning, and the track is still heading our way.”
“Richard, we have two babies to think about. Are you sure we shouldn’t
leave?”
“No, I’m not, but let’s wait until tonight to decide.”
7:00 P. M., August 2nd
“I have some good news and maybe a little bad news.”
“What?”
“The National Hurricane Center says the storm is likely to weaken until
it is barely a hurricane. That’s the good news, and the bad news is that we’re
right in the projected path.”
“Richard, trying to get these babies in the car and go anywhere is next
to impossible. If the storm is just seventy-five mile per hour, it won’t be a
big deal, and we sure could use a little rain.”
“Yeah, I’ve talked with Reinemunds and they’re staying, and everybody
in the Six Hundred Building downtown said they were staying, so let’s just put
the kids to bed and see what happens tomorrow.
9:00 A. M. August 3rd
“Richard, they’re saying Celia may be strengthening in the warm water
near-shore, and the first strong winds are going to start by noon.”
“Gosh, that’s only three hours away. I’m going to put up anything that
could blow around and shut the garage doors. It’s too late to leave now. We’re
just going to ride this one out. Maybe it will weaken by the time it crosses
Padre Island.”
Noon, August 3rd
“Richard! I just saw a swing set blowing down the street! I wonder how
strong the winds are?”
“I don’t know, but let’s get ready to put the kids in the bathroom, if
the wind gets any stronger. I think that room in the most enclosed room in the
house, and the kids can get in the tub. We’ll put some blankets in there with
them Oh yeah, they said to run some water in a big bucket or something in case
we lose water service.”
2:00 P. M. August 3rd
“Richard, I just saw pieces of somebodies roof blowing down the street
and look! There’s a whole roof! Something just hit our roof, and the house is
shaking! Oh, my God! We’re going to lose our roof!”
“Get the kids and let’s get in the bathroom! Hurry! Our roof is about
to go…Damn! Something just hit our roof! Oh, my God! Both of our neighbors roof
are ripping off!”
“Richard, I’m so scared, and I feel so bad that we didn’t take our kids
to San Antonio! What if something happens to them? I’ll never forgive myself!”
“Vertis, the house is shaking and I think our roof is about to go! Get the kids in the bathtub and cover them
with those blankets and then lie down beside the tub! Tell the kids not to
move! I’ll lie down against you…and say a little prayer.”
An hour later:
“Richard, the wind is dying down! Maybe it’s over!”
“Stay, here Vertis, and I’ll take a look out the front door!”
“Come here; you won’t believe this! The radio says the eye of the storm
is over Portland! The wind has completely quit blowing, and I can see blue
sky.”
We’re in the front yard now, and my mouth drops open when I see the devastation
on our street. House after house has been ripped apart, and out two neighbors
on either side of us who had two story house have lost their entire roofs.
“Vertis, I’m going to drive down the street and see about Bill Floyd.
Their house is right on Corpus Christi Bay.”
“My God,” I mutter minutes later, as I view just a few walls that are
still standing including the front door. As I pull up the front door opens and
Bill runs out.
“Richard, I’ve been holding my front door shut to keep it from blowing
off its hinges!”
“Get in the car, Bill. It’s half time and that black wall of clouds out
in the bay is heading for us! Our house is still standing.”
We’re back at my house now, and just minutes later the wind, which was
out of the north during the first part of the storm is back and it’s out of the
south. Bill is exhausted and collapses on the couch as we watch the wind pick
up, and soon it is at full hurricane strength. Vertis is keeping the kids in
the bathroom, but Bill and I are peaking out watching the storm, and we watch
the debris from the first part of the storm is blowing back up the street along
with anything else that wasn’t nailed down.
It has been another hellacious hour, but the wind has now slacked off
to I would estimate less than 50 MPH, and is continuing to drop. Our best
friends, the Reinemunds, live a few blocks up the street and on a street where
the storm winds blew directly straight at their house. It takes a few minutes
to dodge the debris, but when we turned the corner where we could see their
house, our hearts dropped. The house is just a pile of collapsed walls and
rubble. Vertis bursts out crying, and I drop my head thinking the family is
either severely injured or dead. But a minor miracle has occurred---George,
Marilyn, and their two girls just ran out from a neighbor’s house across the
street. In the first part of the storm, as their roof went flying off George
put Marilyn and the girls in the kitchen against the island, and when the wall
fell it left them in a small space uninjured
7:00 P. M. August 3rd.
At last count there are 23 people in our living room and kitchen to spend
the night with us. We have no electricity, water, or gas. It will be a week
before we have water and gas, and 30 days before the lights go on again.
9:00 A. M. August 4th.
We’ve taken a drive through town and when we turned into the First
Baptist Church parking lot tears streamed down our faces. Two weeks before the
property committee, of which I was a member, had been disbanded and we had
dedicated a new 600 seat auditorium. Celia’s winds had ripped off the huge roof,
which we never saw again, and both side walls had collapsed on the pews. Only
the foyer and baptistery remained.
August 5th, 10:00 A.
M.
We’re back at the church now, and our pastor as just accepted a check
from our insurance company for the full amount of coverage, and our building
committee has been reformed. After helping to salvage a few items from the church,
we’re resting when a large semi-trailer truck pulls up into the parking lot. In
big letters it says, The Baptism Men of Texas Disaster Team. In minutes the
truck’s rear doors are opened and hundreds of cases of water and ice are handed
out to us. It was such an emotional experience that there were few dry eyes as
we hauled away what to us was precious water and ice.
It’s noon now and we join our friends the Reinemunds for lunch. We’re
standing in line to receive it from a Texas National Guard unit, and I will
never forget that moment when a guardsmen handed me my lunch.
That’s why I mailed the check.
Celia’s sustained winds were
clocked at 130 MPH with gust to 180 MPH.
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