By: W.C. Reader

Well sir, as we sit down at the table to put this week's column together, two days have passed since Hurricane Claudette cut a wide swath of destruction across Karnes County and the neighboring counties. Since that time, that is the one thing that has dominated the conversation of local residents. So why should we be different? Our first exposure to such turbulent weather came back in the 1920', when we lived out on the farm. We remember the wind and the rain, the rattling doors and windows, and the leaking roof for which our mother had to set out pots and pans. Electricity was no problem because we had none, just lamps and lanterns that burned coal oil. No need to bother about food because shelves were loaded with jars of fruit and vegetable that our mother had "put up" during the summer, and the smoke house was filled with bacon, hams, and sausage hanging from the rafters. Hot water and cooked food posed no problem as long as the wood box was full, a can of kerosene was in the corner, and a box of kitchen matches was on the wall. Need to evacuate (run from) the storm hadn't been thought of because needed transportation consisted of nothing more than dirt roads, wagons and buggies.

But as the 1930's came along, our way of dealing with hurricanes also changed. Radios, hard-surface roads, and automobiles were becoming a way of life, and weathermen kept us glued to the radio as we kept us the storm. By that time, the boll weevil and 5$ cotton had caused our family to leave the farm and become "city folks", living on the highway near the twin water towers in Kenedy. There, sitting on the front porch, we watched those first mass evacuations by people living along the coast in South Texas, when hurricanes were approaching. Cars moving almost bumper to bumper as they traveled north to avoid the coming rain and wind, with the occupants seeking shelter (usually called "camp rooms") until "the storm blew over".

And that's just about how the folks handled the Gulf Coast storms during the war years (World War II and Korean War) during the 1940's and 1950's. We understand a couple of powerful storms hit the coast during those years. We can't give you any details, however, because we spent a few of those years over in the Pacific War zones. We do remember that a typhoon hit Okinawa during the final months of WWII and almost wrecked the chances of the United States to invade Japan before the atomic bomb was dropped. Troops who were on the island will tell you it was a mean one.

But since those years, we people who live around the Texas Golf Coast have lost most of our fear for storms and hurricanes. Sophisticated weather equipment permits us to locate storms as they form along the coast of Africa. Then airplanes help us track them across the ocean, and predict where possibly they will make landfall. This gives people living on the coast time to evacuate and move inland to safety. And other living inland have plenty of time to lay in supplies and "batten down the hatches" for the onslaught. In these modern days, we also have become more sophisticated in providing food, shelter, and medical attention for the evacuees. Particularly are the Red Cross, Salvation Army, Federal and State agencies, churches and the local organizations to be singled out and commended for their good work in these areas, along with law enforcement, fire, and medical personnel. But in spite of all the modern technology, weather remains unpredictable, and we never have been able to conquer it. The recent Hurricane Claudette is a good example. During the days it moved around the Atlantic Ocean and then moved into the Caribbean, none of us regarded it as nother more than an early tropical storm. It was ill organized and likely to fall apart when it moved across Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula. But it hung in there at it moved out into the Gulf of Mexico, still rated as a Tropical Storm. Then as Claudette moved closer to land, about 100 miles away, things began to pick up. Suddenly, winds began to approach 100 miles an hour, torrential rains began to fall, and the Weather Bureau quickly changed its rating to a Level II hurricane. You in this area know the rest of the story. It took dead aim at our neighbors such as Matagorda, Port O'Connor, Port Lavaca, Victoria, Goliad, Runge, Beeville, Kenedy, Karnes City, Tilden, and others began to pack are essentials and scramble inland for shelter. What a surprise from something that had been only a small tropical storm a few days previously. We are still trying to get our affairs straightened out, utilities restored, broken trees removed, debris cleaned away, and damage claims filed, among other things.

And what is the moral of this story? Don't take any small little storm for granted in the future. It might up and bite you, just like Claudette did.

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