You may know that I am a property manager for a preservation company. You may even know that I am responsible for the preservation of roughly 800 bank owned houses. What you may not know is that every single one of them is in the Houston area, with many on the battered Galveston Island.
I’m not looking for sympathy – this is my job, after all. And I didn’t lose anything because of the hurricane. In fact, it has been pretty silent for me at work lately because of many factors: cell phone outages (FEMA actually took over the cell towers last weekend, and reception is still lukewarm at best), gasoline lines/shortages/price gouging, and my hardy crew of contractors attending to their own properties (as they should) despite the widespread lack of power and water.
I have had some crews working through all of this, getting things done that I certainly did not expect to get done as quickly as they have. And I have had others call me pleading for patience with their assigned work, which I of course assured them. They all want to work, but in some cases it is just not possible. And I totally understand that.
And then this afternoon, it happened. The phone at my desk started ringing. Over and over and over.
Normalcy is beginning to return. Listing agents are starting to tour their properties, calling me with laundry lists of problems that need to get rectified… NOW. Again, I understand and bravely accept that challenge.
Wanna see the challenge? Take a look at the pictures assembled here. One word comes to mind…
Never doubt the resiliency of people, particularly Texans. And that is why I am going to end this entry with a quote from one resident of the island who rode out Ike in a church. This was his reply to a question regarding divine intervention, after explaining that he had not set foot in a church for 40 years:
I drink beer and chase women, gamble, cuss. You can’t call that religion. I’m either too good, the devil won’t have me, or I’m so bad the Good Lord won’t take me. That’s a good toss-up.