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.

Sky Canvas

God's amazing work takes your breath away sometimes.

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”

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.

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?

 

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.

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

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.

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.

Bop, Liz, Annie, Felix, P-Kitty, Ditto, Cheech , Chong and the rest of the Osten clan.

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.