Georgia is a very special part of our family, she and Tom continue to remind us that family provides life's greatest riches, I love them both very much. Here are the thoughts Georgia shared after Ike.
"Growing up in Port Arthur, I've been 'playing' at Crystal Beach since the mid 60's. My initial experience of actually living in CB was when my first child was 10 days old (mid 70’s) and we moved in with my Mother and Granny on Monkhouse (by the water tower).
Life often takes bends and curves …
Many happenings, many moves later and SO many memories, 2 more children and 3 grand children later, we’ve made a full circle. Going back to our roots, we bought our ‘future’ retirement home. It’s a lovely little house on Olive, it even looks like an olive, it’s green w/ red shutters.
We leave the big city every Friday to return to our little piece of paradise we call Home. Our home is serene and filled with treasures, too numerous to list. The walls and the inside stairs are lined with family pictures. The children’s hand prints in plaster are hanging in the kitchen tied with pretty ribbons. The sea glass we found sit in jars around the kitchen and the sharks teeth on the window sill.
I will miss waking up early to try to catch the sunrise, sitting on my deck, visiting with my neighbors most of whom I know by first name only, Greg, Belinda and Joe, Bob, Rick, Jim, Cheryl, Gary, Hugh and Sally. From the aerial photos, it appears their houses are still there, I hope we will all be together again. From the deck, we would watch the turtles from the slew trek over to our yard to lay their eggs. We’d watch the silly loons swaying in unison on the telephone lines above the slew, the pelicans as they ever so gracefully glide over the water then just as clumsily dive in for their snacks. With the grandkids, we had great intentions of catching crabs with our chicken necks on strings and crab nets, then we’d end up going to Comeaux’s in Bolivar to buy a few dozen. Everyone wanted to know how to clean the crabs, but ironically they were never around when cleaning occurred? The last thing on my agenda at the end of the evening was to look out at the moon and be thankful my children were “seeing the same moon.” My Cup Runneth Over
I will miss having Bop right down the beach from us, his house was taken away. I hope Mama’s dove is keeping an eye on everything for us until we can return.
The reality of our situation hurts. I refuse to believe that we ALL will never rebuild our Paradise. I pray for those who have lost their family members, homes and treasures. I pray our peninsula is not forgotten and abandoned."
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
HELP, I've Fallen into a Far Side Cartoon and I Can't Get Out
September 12 and 13, 2008
Studio Plus/Inn (not sure now), Winnie, TX
The day itself is a blur, I am sure we were watching the updates on Ike... Bop, Liz, me and the three kitties (when I went back to rescue the kitties I didn't even think about bringing Liz's albino mime frogs - Cheech and Chong - I like to think they made it, have been living in the bay and have grown to be massive in size, so if sometime in the future you see a news report about two freakish white sea creatures with black creepy eyes discovered in the bay - just smile knowingly). We were huddled around the (2' x 2') table in our tiny room (with one double bed and the roll-away from hell).
I seriously can't remember that day, the day part, I'm sure we played domino's and cards and tried to pass the time any way we could. There was no where to go, everything except the few convenience/gas places (which had no gas by now and little merchandise on the shelves, I apparently wasn't the only one who forgot to pack food) was closed. I do remember us debating whether or not to drive to Crowley Lousiana (where Chris lives) or Sugarland (to Tom's) but we still believed we'd be able to go home when the storm had passed and wanted to stay close.
I recall happy hour started early, we had a routine at the Seahoose, when the day's work was done we would gather 'round the glass table to play a game while partaking in a cocktail (or two) as dinner cooked, so the oddity of playing games all day made it somewhat awkward not to also partake. The motel was full of fellow Crystalbeachers, we couldn't leave the door open 'cause of the kitties, but we visited when we went out to smoke. Everyone was supposing.....suppose this happens, suppose that...
Our next door neighbor was a friend of Liz's, a very strong, animated woman (with very large breasts) who was accustomed to being in charge. I'll call her Sally.
The power went out around 10pm and the fury began. Bop and Liz settled into bed and fell fast asleep, I, on the other hand, felt the adrenaline rush through my veins erasing any "partaking" from the day's games and was on full alert. We had mini lanterns in strategic places so I could see well enough should I have to act quickly. I took the bed spread off the bed, it's inhabitants mildly groaning, and put it over the drapery rod to shield them from the glass should the window blow in and then propped myself up on the roll-away in the middle of the room and just listened. There are no words to accurately describe the sound of a hurricane, the moments when you anticipate the walls coming down around you, and moments later just the sound of rain. I nearly jumped outta my skin when Liz's phone rang around 11, it was Sally, I told her Liz was asleep. Ten minutes later, the phone rang again, Sally was telling me we had to pray, Liz is ASLEEP I told her. Eight phone calls and an hour later, there's a knock on the door. By this time I am more than annoyed, with every nerve in my body having been startled every time the phone rang I wasn't in the mood to humor a neighbor whose adrenaline hadn't erased the day's "partaking"!
I (reluctantly) open the door and in whisks Sally with a flashlight in her hand, wearing nothing but her nightie (no undergarments, mind you, so the girls where beaming) followed by a woman in a wheelchair. Sally rushes to the bed..."Earl, Liz" she announces, "we HAVE to pray" and she immediately begins singing at the top of her lungs "How Great Thou Art"....I kid you not, it is after midnight, a hurricane is raging outside and this half naked lady is standing in our room singing a hymn (how did I get into this Far Side cartoon?). Liz sits up in bed, smiles at her friend, Bop stirs, opens his eyes and yells "Are you f**king crazy?"
I smile, feeling justified in my frustration, the lady in the wheelchair says "if it were my Dad he would have hit her by now"! Liz is patting Bop's chest to calm him down when suddenly Bop realizes he LIKES this song and starts to sing along, although without his teeth it was more like "How Grey Thou Are", but at least he wasn't pissed anymore. I am not believing this, I walk out into the hallway to stop myself from cussing her out during prayer time, Mama wouldn't like that.
Sally and the wheelchair lady did finally leave, it was likely only minutes but seemed like hours, there was, after all, a horrendous storm raging on the other side of a pane of glass. I resumed the position, constantly shifting my butt off the metal pole that ran through the middle of my "bed". The wind stripped the lock on the exit door to the building so the alarm sounded constantly and the door opened and slammed closed all night. Water was running down the walls, as if it were simply driven through the structure, it was wierd, by morning the carpet was completely soaked.
At daylight I ventured out, it was raining but the hell had passed. The destruction was everywhere. People were milling about, dazed and exhausted, exchanging stories of the night and hoping someone had some news about the beach. I knew we had to get Bop to Tom's as soon as possible, there was no running water and he had already gotten too many skin tears from getting him in and out of the car.
Sally was holding court from her open window, I suspect she had spent the night praying and partaking, she was trying to rally the people into believing we would all be back at the beach in a few days. I was packing the car and told her we were heading to Houston, so she came to the room to see Bop, still in her nightie, and sat on the edge of the bed near his face. Bop, hypnotized like a deer in headlights, listened intently as she told him she would be taking care of him and returning him to the beach, she had a RV outside, Bop and Liz would stay with her. She tried to overrule me by reassuring Bop that they were going home, oblivious to the news that was trickling out that Bolivar was submerged, and the highway from Winnie to High Island was flooded for miles. I let Bop enjoy the view, let her talk her fantasy and continued to pack the cars. I felt it best to keep busy or I might shake her til the girls beat her to death.
People are amazing in a crisis, someone made coffee on a camp stove, it was the best coffee I have ever tasted. Later they cooked breakfast for anyone who was hungry. We just wanted to get on the road. There was a woman in the parking lot who had spent the night in her car in the woods, she was hoping to find a vacancy, I told her our room was soggy with no clean linens, but available and paid for, she was thrilled. I wonder how things turned out for her.
We had decided to move the Trailblazer to the back of the building the day before so we could keep an eye on it with all our stuff inside, that must have been a Mama intervention, the next morning the huge hotel sign occupied the space where it had been! I was nearly finished packing before noticing the windshield was a spiderweb of cracks, but that was not gonna stop me, thank God for duct tape. I put Bop and Liz in my car, the kitties with me in the Trailblazer and off we went, those dam cats crawled all over me the entire way, if I hadn't risked so much to go back and get em I would've pitched them out the window! There were power lines and debris everywhere, but we made it to I10. Driving along, when we got to the area where the bridges cross the bay, I looked to the left and saw earth, not asphalt, up to the top of the concrete barrier, I thought for a second, are they re-routing the east bound lanes, til I came across a car with only the roof showing and realized the dirt had been stopped by the concrete barrier when the storm surge came through, what an unbelievable sight. Further down the road were a dozen or so tractors scooping up dirt and moving it to the side of the road while a line of cars waited. Everywhere we encountered a dangerous situation the Police were there to route us safely.
We made it to Tom's by the grace of God with Mama as co-pilot. We were blessed and comforted to be near family, and believe it or not, within a few hours the power came on. Coming full circle, we were once again glued to the news.
Studio Plus/Inn (not sure now), Winnie, TX
The day itself is a blur, I am sure we were watching the updates on Ike... Bop, Liz, me and the three kitties (when I went back to rescue the kitties I didn't even think about bringing Liz's albino mime frogs - Cheech and Chong - I like to think they made it, have been living in the bay and have grown to be massive in size, so if sometime in the future you see a news report about two freakish white sea creatures with black creepy eyes discovered in the bay - just smile knowingly). We were huddled around the (2' x 2') table in our tiny room (with one double bed and the roll-away from hell).
I seriously can't remember that day, the day part, I'm sure we played domino's and cards and tried to pass the time any way we could. There was no where to go, everything except the few convenience/gas places (which had no gas by now and little merchandise on the shelves, I apparently wasn't the only one who forgot to pack food) was closed. I do remember us debating whether or not to drive to Crowley Lousiana (where Chris lives) or Sugarland (to Tom's) but we still believed we'd be able to go home when the storm had passed and wanted to stay close.
I recall happy hour started early, we had a routine at the Seahoose, when the day's work was done we would gather 'round the glass table to play a game while partaking in a cocktail (or two) as dinner cooked, so the oddity of playing games all day made it somewhat awkward not to also partake. The motel was full of fellow Crystalbeachers, we couldn't leave the door open 'cause of the kitties, but we visited when we went out to smoke. Everyone was supposing.....suppose this happens, suppose that...
Our next door neighbor was a friend of Liz's, a very strong, animated woman (with very large breasts) who was accustomed to being in charge. I'll call her Sally.
The power went out around 10pm and the fury began. Bop and Liz settled into bed and fell fast asleep, I, on the other hand, felt the adrenaline rush through my veins erasing any "partaking" from the day's games and was on full alert. We had mini lanterns in strategic places so I could see well enough should I have to act quickly. I took the bed spread off the bed, it's inhabitants mildly groaning, and put it over the drapery rod to shield them from the glass should the window blow in and then propped myself up on the roll-away in the middle of the room and just listened. There are no words to accurately describe the sound of a hurricane, the moments when you anticipate the walls coming down around you, and moments later just the sound of rain. I nearly jumped outta my skin when Liz's phone rang around 11, it was Sally, I told her Liz was asleep. Ten minutes later, the phone rang again, Sally was telling me we had to pray, Liz is ASLEEP I told her. Eight phone calls and an hour later, there's a knock on the door. By this time I am more than annoyed, with every nerve in my body having been startled every time the phone rang I wasn't in the mood to humor a neighbor whose adrenaline hadn't erased the day's "partaking"!
I (reluctantly) open the door and in whisks Sally with a flashlight in her hand, wearing nothing but her nightie (no undergarments, mind you, so the girls where beaming) followed by a woman in a wheelchair. Sally rushes to the bed..."Earl, Liz" she announces, "we HAVE to pray" and she immediately begins singing at the top of her lungs "How Great Thou Art"....I kid you not, it is after midnight, a hurricane is raging outside and this half naked lady is standing in our room singing a hymn (how did I get into this Far Side cartoon?). Liz sits up in bed, smiles at her friend, Bop stirs, opens his eyes and yells "Are you f**king crazy?"
I smile, feeling justified in my frustration, the lady in the wheelchair says "if it were my Dad he would have hit her by now"! Liz is patting Bop's chest to calm him down when suddenly Bop realizes he LIKES this song and starts to sing along, although without his teeth it was more like "How Grey Thou Are", but at least he wasn't pissed anymore. I am not believing this, I walk out into the hallway to stop myself from cussing her out during prayer time, Mama wouldn't like that.
Sally and the wheelchair lady did finally leave, it was likely only minutes but seemed like hours, there was, after all, a horrendous storm raging on the other side of a pane of glass. I resumed the position, constantly shifting my butt off the metal pole that ran through the middle of my "bed". The wind stripped the lock on the exit door to the building so the alarm sounded constantly and the door opened and slammed closed all night. Water was running down the walls, as if it were simply driven through the structure, it was wierd, by morning the carpet was completely soaked.
At daylight I ventured out, it was raining but the hell had passed. The destruction was everywhere. People were milling about, dazed and exhausted, exchanging stories of the night and hoping someone had some news about the beach. I knew we had to get Bop to Tom's as soon as possible, there was no running water and he had already gotten too many skin tears from getting him in and out of the car.
Sally was holding court from her open window, I suspect she had spent the night praying and partaking, she was trying to rally the people into believing we would all be back at the beach in a few days. I was packing the car and told her we were heading to Houston, so she came to the room to see Bop, still in her nightie, and sat on the edge of the bed near his face. Bop, hypnotized like a deer in headlights, listened intently as she told him she would be taking care of him and returning him to the beach, she had a RV outside, Bop and Liz would stay with her. She tried to overrule me by reassuring Bop that they were going home, oblivious to the news that was trickling out that Bolivar was submerged, and the highway from Winnie to High Island was flooded for miles. I let Bop enjoy the view, let her talk her fantasy and continued to pack the cars. I felt it best to keep busy or I might shake her til the girls beat her to death.
People are amazing in a crisis, someone made coffee on a camp stove, it was the best coffee I have ever tasted. Later they cooked breakfast for anyone who was hungry. We just wanted to get on the road. There was a woman in the parking lot who had spent the night in her car in the woods, she was hoping to find a vacancy, I told her our room was soggy with no clean linens, but available and paid for, she was thrilled. I wonder how things turned out for her.
We had decided to move the Trailblazer to the back of the building the day before so we could keep an eye on it with all our stuff inside, that must have been a Mama intervention, the next morning the huge hotel sign occupied the space where it had been! I was nearly finished packing before noticing the windshield was a spiderweb of cracks, but that was not gonna stop me, thank God for duct tape. I put Bop and Liz in my car, the kitties with me in the Trailblazer and off we went, those dam cats crawled all over me the entire way, if I hadn't risked so much to go back and get em I would've pitched them out the window! There were power lines and debris everywhere, but we made it to I10. Driving along, when we got to the area where the bridges cross the bay, I looked to the left and saw earth, not asphalt, up to the top of the concrete barrier, I thought for a second, are they re-routing the east bound lanes, til I came across a car with only the roof showing and realized the dirt had been stopped by the concrete barrier when the storm surge came through, what an unbelievable sight. Further down the road were a dozen or so tractors scooping up dirt and moving it to the side of the road while a line of cars waited. Everywhere we encountered a dangerous situation the Police were there to route us safely.
We made it to Tom's by the grace of God with Mama as co-pilot. We were blessed and comforted to be near family, and believe it or not, within a few hours the power came on. Coming full circle, we were once again glued to the news.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Mama
Mama typed this and put it in a photo album....
May 15, 1984
It doesn't matter how old one gets, there are new lessons to be learned every day. It was just yesterday that I finally realized that other people DO NOT perceive me as I see myself. At our EMT class last night, we were all scattered around practicing while Chris (Osten) tested our "skills" (bandaging, CPR, etc). One of the young mothers from Port Bolivar had brought her first grade son for the first time. I was sitting with him looking at his fine coloring books about WWII fighter planes, and the Mom came up. "Matthew", she said, "Do you see that great big hunk of a man over there?", pointing at Chris. "Well", she said, "can you believe that this LITTLE OLD LADY you are talking to is the mother of that GREAT BIG MAN?" I want you to know that I sashayed into the meeting thinking that I was super "cool" with my "alligator" (Izod) shorts, my Bass sandals, my healthy non-smoking body well toned from riding my bike, and what happens? I am utterly deflated and resoundingly settled in my true place in the scheme of things: A LITTLE OLD LADY! So I have reached another plateau in life! Phooey!
May 15, 1984
It doesn't matter how old one gets, there are new lessons to be learned every day. It was just yesterday that I finally realized that other people DO NOT perceive me as I see myself. At our EMT class last night, we were all scattered around practicing while Chris (Osten) tested our "skills" (bandaging, CPR, etc). One of the young mothers from Port Bolivar had brought her first grade son for the first time. I was sitting with him looking at his fine coloring books about WWII fighter planes, and the Mom came up. "Matthew", she said, "Do you see that great big hunk of a man over there?", pointing at Chris. "Well", she said, "can you believe that this LITTLE OLD LADY you are talking to is the mother of that GREAT BIG MAN?" I want you to know that I sashayed into the meeting thinking that I was super "cool" with my "alligator" (Izod) shorts, my Bass sandals, my healthy non-smoking body well toned from riding my bike, and what happens? I am utterly deflated and resoundingly settled in my true place in the scheme of things: A LITTLE OLD LADY! So I have reached another plateau in life! Phooey!
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Daily Picture of Crystal Beach, TX
The daily picture is back on http://www.crystalbeach.com/, it is wonderful to escape for a moment from my no view office and imagine the smell of the salt air and the sound of the waves and birds. Here are a few of Bop's last posts to spark your hankerin for more.......
Saturday, September 26, 2009
I want
It is my desire for this blog to tell the stories of The Seahoose, the happy, the touching, the wonderful stories, nurture the memories so the stories thrive, for ours and all the Seahooses that sprinkled Crystal Beach.
It is my desire... but some days I am just pissed. And although a year later I think I should be far enough along in the grieving process to be comforted by the memory stories.... I am dealing with the child in me who wants what I had, stupid hurricane Ike or not.
I want to see my Mama's face in the sunlight on the deck.
I want to get frustrated when Bop and company kick my butt at hearts, exchanging looks that only cut-throat hearts players understand.
I want to wake up early and go into Mama and Bop's room, them still in bed, the news channel blaring from the tv that hung from the ceiling over the bed, crawl up between them with my coffee and have Mama turn the TV sound down when she asks me to tell her and Bop "everything that happened the night before after they went to sleep".
I want to go out on the deck to smoke a cigarette and discover there are planckton (sp?) in the water making the waves glow like they were lit by a blacklight and smoke three cause it's so cool to see.
I want to get the kids to bed and sit on the deck with my brothers and sisters, brothers and sisters in-law, friends and neighbors, laughing til the wee hours of the morning (and recount it all over coffee with Mama and Bop).
I want Bop to ask me to put rosy cheeks on the concrete statue of the blessed Mother Mary cause we put flower wreaths on her head and "It would look so pretty if She had rosy cheeks like Mama".
I want to walk on the beach with my sisters, rarely speaking, together yet alone in our quest, when the only words spoken are "Look what I found" and we are completely together in our wonder (one of those times it was The Rock Man's face).
I want to be annoyed cause my siblings+ show up and no one brought towels or thought about what the heck we were gonna feed all these people (and not be annoyed this time).
I want an early morning pelican fly-over so I can say "Hello Mama".
I want ...I want...I want...
I want....I want...
I want....
As I climb into bed in my apartment in Houston, I don't want to punch a button on the sound machine that makes ocean sounds so can sleep at night. Some days I am just pissed.
It is my desire... but some days I am just pissed. And although a year later I think I should be far enough along in the grieving process to be comforted by the memory stories.... I am dealing with the child in me who wants what I had, stupid hurricane Ike or not.
I want to see my Mama's face in the sunlight on the deck.
I want to get frustrated when Bop and company kick my butt at hearts, exchanging looks that only cut-throat hearts players understand.
I want to wake up early and go into Mama and Bop's room, them still in bed, the news channel blaring from the tv that hung from the ceiling over the bed, crawl up between them with my coffee and have Mama turn the TV sound down when she asks me to tell her and Bop "everything that happened the night before after they went to sleep".
I want to go out on the deck to smoke a cigarette and discover there are planckton (sp?) in the water making the waves glow like they were lit by a blacklight and smoke three cause it's so cool to see.
I want to get the kids to bed and sit on the deck with my brothers and sisters, brothers and sisters in-law, friends and neighbors, laughing til the wee hours of the morning (and recount it all over coffee with Mama and Bop).
I want Bop to ask me to put rosy cheeks on the concrete statue of the blessed Mother Mary cause we put flower wreaths on her head and "It would look so pretty if She had rosy cheeks like Mama".
I want to walk on the beach with my sisters, rarely speaking, together yet alone in our quest, when the only words spoken are "Look what I found" and we are completely together in our wonder (one of those times it was The Rock Man's face).
I want to be annoyed cause my siblings+ show up and no one brought towels or thought about what the heck we were gonna feed all these people (and not be annoyed this time).
I want an early morning pelican fly-over so I can say "Hello Mama".
I want ...I want...I want...
I want....I want...
I want....
As I climb into bed in my apartment in Houston, I don't want to punch a button on the sound machine that makes ocean sounds so can sleep at night. Some days I am just pissed.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Seahoose Friends
Linder and P. T. (Bob) Turner, friends of my sister, Liz, sent this wonderful letter after Ike.
Where to start - We have so many memories of Crystal Beach etched into our hearts and memories! Even after all these years, I can't think about them without smiling, almost laughing….and now….crying! The first time we were invited to Crystal Beach was the summer of 1967. Our dearest friends Jim and Liz Osten Sanders said "come on down, doesn't matter what time you get in on Friday night, just come". We arrived after midnight to be greeted by the “Where You Sleep Map” taped to the front door and lighted by the porch light left on just for us! Little did this city girl know that you don't arrive at the beach with matched luggage and your "wiglet" case! Earl (BOP) Osten's favorite joke use to be - I love it Linder (my name is Linda, but the Osten's always called me LINDER) first time you came, you came with Luggage and your wig case ---next time you came - you came with two paper bags!"
How we laughed at Bop - always so full of life and always ready to cook whatever P. T. (Bob) might bring him from his hunts. Maybe a dozen quail, maybe a rabbit, perhaps a squirrel or a mess of fish - Bop would always say - "Bob, you bring it - I'll cook it" and many, many meals around the table filled with laughter and full tummies did we spend with that delightful family and their myriad friends and kin! Always, we were made to feel a part of that special group.
I don’t think I will ever forget the morning that the entire house (scattered over every inch of the floor, every sofa, every bed and anyplace else a person could possible sleep) was jolted awake by a blood curdling scream! As I opened my eyes, I saw a large, black cat flying across the room. Seems Bop had gone to the kitchen to make the first of many pots of coffee to be drunk while watching the sun rise from the balcony, only to have the cat jump from the chair to his shirtless back!…..poor poor kitty! We laughed until we hurt at this hulking 6’9” man with bleeding cat scratches on his back trying to explain why he had hurled the beloved family pet across the room.
We would all be sitting on the balcony, drinking coffee or tea, watching the sun rise, when the booming voice of Bop would yell “IT’S TIME, BOYS”. Out would come the 400’ seining net and every male in the household - tall ones (Bop was 6’8” and P.T. was 6’5”) walked straight out as far as they could go - past the sand bars- medium heights in the middle to keep net from flipping up and shorter guys on the shore - little guys searching for wood to build the fire for the fish fry! Then the tall guys started curving back into the shore hoping their catch was enough for lunch. As they net started coming in, the crowd started gathering and by the time the guys had it on the beach, almost everyone on the beach had crowded in to see the “haul”. Immediately, the culling, sorting and separating began - and the big tripod and pot were set up over the wood while the fire was quickly beginning to burn hot - the women brought down the cornmeal and the brown paper sacks (used as plates for the feast) and when the hot oil was just rightthe fun began. Fry a pot full and distribute to closest or biggest for the best fish you could find anywhere. We would cook and eat and drink beer and talk and laugh untilwe were so full we couldn’t walk, look at each other and say “What could be better than this”
Where to start - We have so many memories of Crystal Beach etched into our hearts and memories! Even after all these years, I can't think about them without smiling, almost laughing….and now….crying! The first time we were invited to Crystal Beach was the summer of 1967. Our dearest friends Jim and Liz Osten Sanders said "come on down, doesn't matter what time you get in on Friday night, just come". We arrived after midnight to be greeted by the “Where You Sleep Map” taped to the front door and lighted by the porch light left on just for us! Little did this city girl know that you don't arrive at the beach with matched luggage and your "wiglet" case! Earl (BOP) Osten's favorite joke use to be - I love it Linder (my name is Linda, but the Osten's always called me LINDER) first time you came, you came with Luggage and your wig case ---next time you came - you came with two paper bags!"
How we laughed at Bop - always so full of life and always ready to cook whatever P. T. (Bob) might bring him from his hunts. Maybe a dozen quail, maybe a rabbit, perhaps a squirrel or a mess of fish - Bop would always say - "Bob, you bring it - I'll cook it" and many, many meals around the table filled with laughter and full tummies did we spend with that delightful family and their myriad friends and kin! Always, we were made to feel a part of that special group.
I don’t think I will ever forget the morning that the entire house (scattered over every inch of the floor, every sofa, every bed and anyplace else a person could possible sleep) was jolted awake by a blood curdling scream! As I opened my eyes, I saw a large, black cat flying across the room. Seems Bop had gone to the kitchen to make the first of many pots of coffee to be drunk while watching the sun rise from the balcony, only to have the cat jump from the chair to his shirtless back!…..poor poor kitty! We laughed until we hurt at this hulking 6’9” man with bleeding cat scratches on his back trying to explain why he had hurled the beloved family pet across the room.
We would all be sitting on the balcony, drinking coffee or tea, watching the sun rise, when the booming voice of Bop would yell “IT’S TIME, BOYS”. Out would come the 400’ seining net and every male in the household - tall ones (Bop was 6’8” and P.T. was 6’5”) walked straight out as far as they could go - past the sand bars- medium heights in the middle to keep net from flipping up and shorter guys on the shore - little guys searching for wood to build the fire for the fish fry! Then the tall guys started curving back into the shore hoping their catch was enough for lunch. As they net started coming in, the crowd started gathering and by the time the guys had it on the beach, almost everyone on the beach had crowded in to see the “haul”. Immediately, the culling, sorting and separating began - and the big tripod and pot were set up over the wood while the fire was quickly beginning to burn hot - the women brought down the cornmeal and the brown paper sacks (used as plates for the feast) and when the hot oil was just rightthe fun began. Fry a pot full and distribute to closest or biggest for the best fish you could find anywhere. We would cook and eat and drink beer and talk and laugh untilwe were so full we couldn’t walk, look at each other and say “What could be better than this”
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Bird School
Do you think they are in bird school or just socializing?
I love the birds at the beach, my misser is sore for them.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
If You Think You've Had a Bad Day....
We were sitting on the deck one afternoon many years ago when my younger sister Nora, who was 16 at the time, came home from work and stood under the deck sobbing uncontrollably. When we asked what was wrong she replied, "I've (sob) had the (sob) worst day (sob, sniff, sob) ever! "What happened?" we asked. Composing herself briefly she replied, "Well....this morning my watch broke..." the tears building again, she continued, "then my goat ran away and... I...I o.....I only......made......I only made 76 cents....I only made 76 cents in tips and I worked 5 hours and...." sobbing uncontrollably once again she managed to finally get out...."and I got fired!!"
One of the folks on the deck was a firiend of my older sister, Liz, and a writer for the Dallas Times Herald, Dick Hitt. He shared Nora's Bad Day story with his readers, although I think she would have preferred her 15 minutes for another reason.
So the next time you find yourself having a particularly bad day, stop and think.....yeah, this is bad but did my goat, Nancy Carol, run away?
One of the folks on the deck was a firiend of my older sister, Liz, and a writer for the Dallas Times Herald, Dick Hitt. He shared Nora's Bad Day story with his readers, although I think she would have preferred her 15 minutes for another reason.
So the next time you find yourself having a particularly bad day, stop and think.....yeah, this is bad but did my goat, Nancy Carol, run away?
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
And The Winner Is.....
not Ike, but me.
I started this blog as a way to deal with a difficult Saturday morning, the one year marker of the last day I spent at The Seahoose in Crystal Beach, TX, exacerbated by the anniversary of 9/11 the day before, and what would have been Mama's 85th birthday 4 days prior to that.
Last Saturday was a stormy morning in Houston, the skies eerily similar to the year before, and I was feeling particularly blue. It took me over 3 hours to create the first post, but when I was done, I felt different, as if I had purged some nasty muck from my soul.
It was my intention to recount the days following Ike, but I now know the stories I want to tell are not about the loss of, but the life of The Seahoose.
My mind is flooded with ideas, I wish I could sit and write full time as I am excited for the first time since having to leave the beach. But I have this dam job.....
I do have a few stories to tell about the days after Ike, like our stay at the Studio Plus in Winnie, Tx, and the overwhelming and unbelievable incompetence of the administration of disaster recovery assistance, but I will save those for another stormy Saturday morning, it seems to flow easier then.
Check back now and then, even better, become a follower so you don't miss "Nocturnal Symphony in Bean Flat MAJOR", " The Rock Man", "Mama's Dune", "How Long One Stays Stuck in the Sand is Directly Proportionate to the Size of the Swimsuit and Age/Sex of the Wearer", "The Endless Pot of Bop's Spaghetti", and "The Really Stupid Things We've Seen People Do On the Beach" to name just a few.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Some background on The Seahoose
My brother, Tom took over crystalbeach.com just a few weeks before Mama passed away unexpectedly in her sleep on March 22, 2007. In the blink of an eye everything on the site was suspended in limbo.
There was little information coming out about the status of Bolivar Peninsula. We would later learn it was because it was still under water, and the authorities were trying to assess the loss of life before allowing anyone over there.
Tom created a page for people to share stories about the beach while we all waited for news, following is the initial entry, my sister Liz's story, which gives you some background on The Seahoose.
(For many other touching stories click on the following
http://www.crystalbeach.com/CBstories/stories.htm
Tom created a page for people to share stories about the beach while we all waited for news, following is the initial entry, my sister Liz's story, which gives you some background on The Seahoose.
(For many other touching stories click on the following
http://www.crystalbeach.com/CBstories/stories.htm
Our beloved Seahoose is gone,there’s nothing but sand left in its place. It had a ramp for Dad’s (Bop) wheel chair with a concrete statue of Mary at the top. It had a white washed picnic table that family and friends had signed and/or etched their words of wisdom. Mama and Bop had 7 children; the Osten’s to date count 48.
It hosted many a spaghetti dinner for all the pot would feed. Bop always made "Character Sauce", mushrooms, onions, Rotel and fresh jalapenos, so named for what it required to eat it.
The Seahoose witnessed countless games of poker, domino's, and hearts, so many crowded around the glass table, often into the wee hours of the night, Mama and Bop slept through the noise as if it were a lullaby.
The picture of us at our tacky party hung next to those from the Mardi Gras parades, when were 101 Dalmations with Cruella, and Charlie Chaplins and Waldos - we won first place once. Next in line was the Bay Vue first dollar, followed by the framed traffic ticket Bop got in France for going the wrong way in the circle, at the end the picture of Bop with the caption “it’s not so much I mind dying, it’s just I don’t wanna be there when it happens.”
Bop spent many hours in his shop working with stained glass and his beautiful creations hung in all our windows. Bop and Annie painted the little kitchen table with neon paint and glued fish pictures on it they had cut out of one of the coffee table books, we didn't even have a coffee table, but Mama had lots of beautiful coffee table books about the sea. They painted the fan blades to match. Actually anything that stood still was at risk of being painted, ask Felix, our 18 pound black cat.
It hosted many a spaghetti dinner for all the pot would feed. Bop always made "Character Sauce", mushrooms, onions, Rotel and fresh jalapenos, so named for what it required to eat it.
The Seahoose witnessed countless games of poker, domino's, and hearts, so many crowded around the glass table, often into the wee hours of the night, Mama and Bop slept through the noise as if it were a lullaby.
The picture of us at our tacky party hung next to those from the Mardi Gras parades, when were 101 Dalmations with Cruella, and Charlie Chaplins and Waldos - we won first place once. Next in line was the Bay Vue first dollar, followed by the framed traffic ticket Bop got in France for going the wrong way in the circle, at the end the picture of Bop with the caption “it’s not so much I mind dying, it’s just I don’t wanna be there when it happens.”
Bop spent many hours in his shop working with stained glass and his beautiful creations hung in all our windows. Bop and Annie painted the little kitchen table with neon paint and glued fish pictures on it they had cut out of one of the coffee table books, we didn't even have a coffee table, but Mama had lots of beautiful coffee table books about the sea. They painted the fan blades to match. Actually anything that stood still was at risk of being painted, ask Felix, our 18 pound black cat.
This was our HOME, not a vacation getaway. How many people sat on the porch swing in 34 years? Is it more or less than the number of shark teeth in the baby food jar on the kitchen window sill found over the same amount of time? How many grand kids got in Mama and Bop’s king size bed to watch Disney videos on the TV suspended from the ceiling? More than the family and friends who, in our 1200 square foot house, looked for their floor space assignment on the nightly bed chart over the years? Too late to calculate now.
In recent years Annie and I spent hours combing the beach for glass and tile. Sorted and saved for projects never started, I guess it was really all about the hunt. Our stash has been returned for others to find.
When we were young we had a 400' seine and would have fish fry's on the beach with our catch. Our “plate” was a brown paper bag, the fish seasoned with just the right amount of sand to ensure peak crispiness. The kids would throw the crabs back, so many pinched fingers. Anheuser Busch bought several Clydesdale horses with the money we spent on beer, perhaps one was Hank.
In our haste to follow the last minute evacuation order, we forgot to bring Bop’s poker fund jar, and Rick’s poker fund jar, and Liz’s poker fund kept in the Halloween purse on the bed post with the “keeper” Mardi Gras beads; Hama’s (Bop’s grandmother) Santa so prominently displayed on the Christmas tree every year, and the 4’ turquoise pre-lit metal Christmas tree with a tilt. We didn’t forget, but were forced to leave, damn near everything else.
Bop and Mama moved to Crystal Beach in 1974 and ran the Bay Vue grocery until 1983. Then they started Mike (Mama’s nickname) Osten Real Estate, M.O.R.E.. When forced to give up the real estate business due to health reasons in 1990, Mama created the crystalbeach.com website to provide information about her community to those surfing the net. She was 72. Mama would spend at least 6 hours a day updating the site and answering all inquiries.
Mama and Bop loved Crystal Beach as did the other 46 of us and many, many friends. We scattered Mama‘s ashes on the dune in front of the Seahoose in March of 2007. Ike may have washed away the dune, but it only served to widen her presence on this place she treasured.
The Osten family will be back soon, but not as soon as we would like. There are too many memories to mention, too many laughter filled times to recall. She was a grand ole house, The Seahoose, and we will miss her. And maybe, just maybe years from now, a treasure will be found buried in the sand by some unknowing hunter….a concrete statue of the Blessed Mary.
God bless all the former residents of Crystal Beach Texas, you will be in our hearts forever.
In recent years Annie and I spent hours combing the beach for glass and tile. Sorted and saved for projects never started, I guess it was really all about the hunt. Our stash has been returned for others to find.
When we were young we had a 400' seine and would have fish fry's on the beach with our catch. Our “plate” was a brown paper bag, the fish seasoned with just the right amount of sand to ensure peak crispiness. The kids would throw the crabs back, so many pinched fingers. Anheuser Busch bought several Clydesdale horses with the money we spent on beer, perhaps one was Hank.
In our haste to follow the last minute evacuation order, we forgot to bring Bop’s poker fund jar, and Rick’s poker fund jar, and Liz’s poker fund kept in the Halloween purse on the bed post with the “keeper” Mardi Gras beads; Hama’s (Bop’s grandmother) Santa so prominently displayed on the Christmas tree every year, and the 4’ turquoise pre-lit metal Christmas tree with a tilt. We didn’t forget, but were forced to leave, damn near everything else.
Bop and Mama moved to Crystal Beach in 1974 and ran the Bay Vue grocery until 1983. Then they started Mike (Mama’s nickname) Osten Real Estate, M.O.R.E.. When forced to give up the real estate business due to health reasons in 1990, Mama created the crystalbeach.com website to provide information about her community to those surfing the net. She was 72. Mama would spend at least 6 hours a day updating the site and answering all inquiries.
Mama and Bop loved Crystal Beach as did the other 46 of us and many, many friends. We scattered Mama‘s ashes on the dune in front of the Seahoose in March of 2007. Ike may have washed away the dune, but it only served to widen her presence on this place she treasured.
The Osten family will be back soon, but not as soon as we would like. There are too many memories to mention, too many laughter filled times to recall. She was a grand ole house, The Seahoose, and we will miss her. And maybe, just maybe years from now, a treasure will be found buried in the sand by some unknowing hunter….a concrete statue of the Blessed Mary.
God bless all the former residents of Crystal Beach Texas, you will be in our hearts forever.
Bop, Liz, Annie, Felix, P-Kitty, Ditto, Cheech , Chong and the rest of the Osten clan.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
September 12, 2008
Dawn....there were 16 projected paths on Stormtracker, one a direct hit on Galveston, my research showing it had been the most accurate over the past few days, which put the "dirty" and most devastating side over Bolivar. The news continued to predict a last minute turn to the south, and reiterated it was "only a cat 2", I knew in my heart this was gonna be the one. So many close calls over so many years can make one reluctant to respond, Gustav just 3 weeks earlier, you tell yourself, it's gonna be OK.The mandatory evacuation was ordered, the ferry would stop running at 11pm, they wanted us out by 3pm.
There was a woman and child at the water's edge, the child romping in the surf like any other beach morning, momentarily fooling me into thinking this was just like any other day. Sadly the feeling was gone as quickly as it was felt, the reality was I had to get organized, make a plan, and get my family out of our beloved Seahoose as fast as I could.By 8am the tide water was up the road level with our house. Although at this point we
were protected by substantial dunes built for many decades and enhanced by our Mama's presence, the early arrival of the effects was sobering. Too late to go for a trailer or U-haul and return, pack it and leave on time, we spent the morning trying to decide what few things to take that would represent the lifetime of family memories present in the Seahoose.So many, many storms in the past, the family would rally and come in their vehicles to help save what we could. This time it was too late, Liz, Bop and I were on our own.
We had the Trailblazer and my Saturn Ion to load. First the wheelchair, walker, potty chair, medical supplies, all absolutely vital for Bop's well being. Next a suitcase of clothes for each of us. (We did a very poor job here though, Liz forgot all shoes but the ones she had on, we only packed three days of changes for Bop, I forgot to open my shorts drawer all together, I think we still believed we'd be home in a few days). Next the family photo albums, Bible, Bop's old scrapbooks, the framed Bay Vue first dollar, the
ticket from France, some of Mama and Bop's creations, and after that my mind goes blank. There was so much, the Seahoose was crammed full of 35 years of collections, treasures, each thing triggering a special memory, but the clock was ticking, it was absolutely necessary we consider Bop's safety above anything else.I had boarded up (and thankfully un-boarded) the house myself 3 weeks earlier, for Gustav, so I was confident I could handle it this time. I hadn't considered what a challenge it would be to handle the 4x8 sheets of plywood in the wind, another sobering reminder of what was very different this time and its possible outcome. Screws didn't drive so easily, probably my stress and exhaustion more than anything else, I used big nails for the ones that I couldn't drive the screws through, leaving the patio door open til it was time to leave.
We cleared the deck completely and laid Mama's concrete statue of the Blessed Mary on her back. Surely she would make it, she weighed a ton!
View from The Seahoose deck painted by David Potwin
Then there was the 3 cats, Felix, Ditto and P-Kitty......I wrestled with my conscience all day, if Ike did go south, they would be OK boarded up in the house, this was what I told myself to override what my heart was telling me.....that they would be killed when the house was blown away by the wind and/or washed away in the storm surge. I accepted this fate easily for the outside strays Liz had adopted and fed for years, but our cats, what should I do? I was the driving force, the rational one, in charge, it was my role, they were comforted by this, it's what I always did. But, with the vehicles packed to capacity, and evacuating to a Winnie motel room, how reasonable was it to take the cats with us? In the scheme of things they were our kitties, but they weren't human life and I had to accept they were disposable.Mama created crystalbeach.com (http://www.crystalbeach.com/) after having to leave the real estate business in her 70's. It began as a way to share her love for this place and became an incredibly successful definitive site for all information about Bolivar and Crystal Beach.
Every morning Bop would take a picture from the deck, write a few words describing the day and post it to the site. He developed a huge fan club all over the world, getting emails on a regular basis from people thanking him who had either been there or never had the chance but planned to in the future, who liked to start their day by seeing the beach every morning.I shot pictures of the inside of the house the evening before
and decided to do the outside right before we left thinking it may be important for the insurance process. While shooting I realized it would be nice to show Bop's fans from where he shot his morning post, as it was a very real possibility it would be gone this time, and with it, life as we knew it. After uploading the photo I moved on and FORGOT to put Mama and Bop's computers in the car so we lost the history of pictures forever. I can't believe I did that, why didn't I think more clearly? Cars loaded, we heard water was already washing over rollover pass, it was time to go whether or not we were ready. Bop and Liz in the Trailblazer, I filled a huge bowl with water and another with kitty food, and had to drive huge nails to hold the last piece of plywood over the patio door.
The drive to Winnie was uneventful, we got Bop settled in the room, we were surrounded by fellow beach folks. My mind racing as to what we needed to be comfortable I realized we never considered food so I hit the local gas stations and paid a fortune for peanut butter, crackers, chips, candy, water and beer. We watched the news all evening and it became apparent our worst fear would very likely be realized.
The cats gnawed at my conscience all evening, could I live with my decision? I talked to Molly around 10pm about the guilt, I knew I had already decided to go back and get them but presented it as an idea. She made me promise not to go alone, she knew I wouldn't promise NOT to go, so it was please Mom, don't go alone. There was no other way though, Bop couldn't be left alone. I can't recall another time I knowingly broke a promise to Molly, but there was no other way. I had gotten three boxes to put them in, and at 11pm set out for the Seahoose.
My heart pounding for 40 miles, I was blessed not to encounter any high water. Once at the house, the wind was incredible, it was eerie, no one around, the surf pounding, the water creeping up higher and higher into the neighborhood. Standing on the deck I remembered having to nail the board that would let me in. I finally managed to pull the nails on one side allowing me to squeeze through and into the quiet of our beloved house.
One by one I boxed the cats, pushing the plywood open enough to squeeze me and a box through and took them to my car. I wish I had stopped to think about grabbing some of my precious treasures that never entered my mind that busy day. Little Si - one of Liz's strays, and by far one of the most ignorant cats I have ever encountered was huddled on the deck. I opened a can of wet cat food and gave her the whole thing, a real treat for her, it was her last meal after all, she may as well gorge herself.
The plywood nailed back in place, I sat quietly on the deck and took in what I could. This place, this magnificent place, even it its fury it was so beautiful. The smell of the salt air, the sound of the surf. I turned back and looked at the house, trying to etch everything I could into my brain, every inch. Reality nudged me, I had to go, NOW.
The meowing was amazingly loud, a three-some serenade that fueled my anxiety. Thankfully, Felix, our 20+ lb black cat clawed his way outta the box in less than 3 minutes, P-Kitty in the next 2. The kitty screaming let up 'cept for poor little Ditto, she never figured out how to get out of that box and quietly meowed the whole way.
I made it back to Winnie by the grace of God. Bop didn't know I had left, we didn't want to worry him. He was comforted to have the cats in the room, we were all together again. My day finally completed, I turned to the TV again and the torturous waiting 
for our uninvited guest, Ike.
for our uninvited guest, Ike.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)