Down on the Bayou

OPEN IMAGE GALLERY

Bayou Vistans and other local folks load up on provisions from one side of the truck: Peanut butter, loaves of bread, toiletries, cleaning supplies, snacks, candy, dry socks, gum, and the very popular handwipes. (photo by KXM)

We pulled into the next police checkpoint with no plan but to find a safe, visible place to set up shop and distribute the sustenance we had packed on four trucks and various trailers. The police checkpoint is positioned at a juncture very familiar to anyone who goes down to Galveston: the junction where Hwy 6 from Alvin, Hwy 3 from La Marque, and Loop 197 from Texas City all braid together into I-45 as it heads to the causeway bridge to Galveston.

Bayou Vista, TX, "Where Living on the Water Is a Way of Life," as their town motto says, would be our destination. The Red Cross had a truck loaded with civvy versions of MREs and were positioned in a grassy area next to a boarded up convenience store. We pulled in and Alan and some of the other MLF principals began talking to the folks in charge to see how we could best serve their needs.

Between MLF volunteers spreading out and telling locals and general word of mouth, folks started to trickle, then steadily stream to the relief offered by the trucks stationed by the mini-mart. One of the catering trucks went south along one of the 12 dredged canals which provide access to Galveston Bay and the Gulf of Mexico and make up the sleepy coastal town of Bayou Vista.

Locals began to buzz and the area around the trucks starting jumping with folks pulling up in their own trucks from all around the area who had heard about the "crazy Catholics from Austin giving away free stuff" as one guy said. We heard stories ranging from, "We were so lucky, we only lost our deck," to "I lost everything. I guess that makes me homeless." The degree of shell shock rivaled any I witnessed at the Austin Convention Center post-Katrina. Many of the folks fared well, considering the scope of the storm and their proximity to water. I'd say about 25% wandered in with that shell-shocked stare. The MLF volunteers were amazing, responding with tenderness and hope; offering lifelines to normalcy.

I mainly worked sorting the bottled water cases and helping guide folks to the different services and goods offered. After a moving encounter with a young woman in an Aggie shirt in shock over the kindness shown by the group, I sidled up to the gals pouring drinks and said, "Man, I admire you and what you do; I just got my first tears and hug, and it was as intense as it was rewarding." "Oh yeah," said Jenny. "I can handle the hugs, but the tears really get me."

The kicker came when one modest woman, not wanting to impose, asked about some of the provisions. It happened over and over again: People saying, "Oh, I'm okay; someone else needs that more than I do." Then as the reality of no access to stores or electricity began to settle in, they would reconsider and let us load them up with stuff. The woman was thrilled to hear she could take a whole loaf of bread. "I've got kids," she said, as if taking the loaf to sustain herself for days might seem too much. I asked if she'd like some peanut butter. "Oh, you have peanut butter sandwiches?" she asked. "No, jars," I replied.

"Jars…" her response trailed off as she nodded yes in seeming disbelief. "Crunchy or smooth?" I grinned.

"Crunchy??? Or smooth???" she blurted out. "You people are incredible."