Life's a beach, then a hurricane knocks your house down

It looks like, now that they’ve had a look at the destruction caused by Hurricane Ike, Galveston is trying to decide whether they should re-build. Funnily enough, it’s the big, expensive beach homes on the shores that were blown to bits, pushed off their foundations or just plain waterlogged beyond repair that showed the worst damage. The smaller, older houses that were built inside the seawall, before people forgot what hurricanes can do, seem to have weathered the storm fairly well. They don’t have power, but at least they still have four walls that held together. But the wealthy beach property owners are going to have to decide if they meet the definition of insanity – doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different outcome. If they build it, a hurricane will, eventually, knock it down.

Me? I love the beach. I’m never happier or healthier than when I can smell salt on the air. To quote Jimmy Buffett – the seas in my veins. Even if unfortunately it’s not a lifestyle to which I’ve been able to afford to become accustomed. But even if I had the money, I would never build a million dollar house in a hurricane strike zone. I’m an evil old agnostic, and even I think God hates houses cluttering up the Gulf Coast. He lets it build up for 30 years or so, then gets tired of behemoth beach huts cluttering up his ocean view, and then he rolls a hurricane at the shore and knocks ‘em down like bowling pins.

The only way I’d ever do it is if I could have one of those little Tumbleweed Houses. If you look closely at the pic, you’ll notice – tires. That baby is on wheels. You get yourself a nice concrete pad with electric, water and sewer connections, overlooking the water and – “Hey, what? Storm’s a comin’? Let’s beat feet, baby.” You fold up your doormat, hitch the house to the truck, and it’s “give me a call when the power’s back on.” Cause my firm conviction in this life is that she who clucks and runs away, lives to cluck another day. This includes bullies threatening to knock my teeth out, and hurricanes threatening to knock my house down. There’s no piece of property that’s worth risking my life. But I’d have not objection to taking it with me.

I hope they do decide to rebuild Galveston. I love that nutty little town. But I hope that somebody steps forward with a plan to do it sensibly.