Author: Sharron Burnett

Early during Harvey’s rampage across Texas a photo of elderly residents of a nursing home went viral. It showed them sitting in waist deep water waiting to be rescued. It was a vivid image of just how horrific the effects of that storm actually were. A second picture eventually made the rounds showing the same individuals safe and sound in a new location. They were nicely attired and smiling, and it made us all feel better about their fate. The sad thing is that even as we begin the recovery process, the toll that this disaster is taking on our oldest citizens is almost silently brutal. So many of our quite vulnerable elderly population were frightened and confused by a situation that they were too often not able to understand, and in far too many cases the consequences for them have been as devastating as the floods themselves.

I’ll be sixty nine in November and my husband’s birthday will be his seventieth later this month, but I’m not so much talking about people like us as those who are fifteen or so years older than we are. Many of them suffer from Alzheimer’s or dementia and found themselves in foreign situations that made it difficult for them to adapt. One friend’s mother had to be constantly reminded of why she was not in her home, and why she would not be allowed to go back there until the rains ceased. She wanted to know who Harvey was, insisting that she knew no one by that name. It was an exceedingly stressful many days even for those caring for her, because they worried about her delicate condition.

Yet another person with whom I worked for years lost her mother. The woman’s death will not be counted among the victims of the storm, but she most certainly died because of the effects of the deluge. She lived in an assisted living facility because she too had Alzheimers. During the rains the home where she stayed flooded, and the patients were rescued and taken to a shelter. Sadly the sweet lady awoke during the middle of the night and was shaken when she did not know where she was. In her bewildered state of mind she began to wander in the dark, and in the process she fell and broke multiple bones in her fragile body. She was sent to a hospital where it was deemed necessary to operate, but first precautions had to be taken because she was on blood thinners. Unfortunately the poor soul did not make it and her funeral was this past Friday. Her family is heartbroken and, those of us who grieve with them wonder if but for the storms their beloved family member might still be alive.

This past week two of the ninety something year old mothers of high school friends of mine have also passed. I can’t help but think of how much the change in their routines must have affected them. They were such kind and loving women who had at one time been so strong that they would have tackled the beast called Harvey head on. This time they were too old and weak to adjust to the terrible demands that all of the devastation has placed on our city. I keep seeing such incidents being repeated over and over again, and it is beyond heartbreaking.

There are kidney patients who missed their dialysis appointments and then had to wait all day long, sitting on the floor for their turns to receive the life saving treatments that they needed. Surgeries had to be cancelled and chemo-therapies were missed. Some people lost all of their medications and had to go without them for days, risking lethal side effects in the process. It was and remains an incredibly trying time around here that none of us will soon forget.

The sun has been out for days. The temperature is cooler than it generally is in the Houston area. We spend our time attempting to help as many as we can, but sometimes we have to back off just a bit and rest lest we run out of steam before the job is done. In the meantime our elderly are dealing with so many after effects, not the least of which is a desire to be able to do more to help than they are physically able. In my own case I have received phone calls and messages from loving friends cautioning me to take it easy and get some rest. Somehow thus far I have been able to draw upon reserves of energy that I did not know that I had, but I can feel the weariness of the city setting in among even the youngest.

Everything looks and feels so different and we have had to learn how to relax again and return to routines that somehow don’t feel as important as they once did. As our children go back to school we worry about how they will be. How will they do homework and study without the comfort of their homes? What nightmares are they hiding from us? Are they as muddled as the oldest members of our hometown have sometimes been? How can we be assured that they are as well taken care of as they need to be?

I drove through an area of South Houston near the intermediate school where I spent the bulk of my career teaching. I found myself sobbing convulsively as I drove down one street after another in which every single home had been affected. The piles of debris made the scene appear to be a war zone. I know that most of these poor souls have never had much in the way of wealth other than hard working attitudes and pride in knowing that they have places of their own. I truly found myself feeling the pain of their suffering and then I saw a most amazing sight. At the local elementary school the children and their families were playing on inflatables. They were smiling and having a good time if only for a few moments. There were tents where people were serving food and handing out information on how to find help. I felt a bittersweet sense of hope in this glorious vision among the most horrific ruin.

I later worked at a school on Friday where a pantry had been set up for those who needed the most basic of necessities. The number of volunteers and the outpouring of donations was incredible, causing me to think of something that one of the victims of the torrential rains stated as he was rescued from his flooded home, “There is more love in this city than water.” Indeed that is the case, but we cannot be too quick to change the subject and simply move on. This has been a natural disaster that even a talented screen writer might never have imagined. Together with generous individuals from all across the globe we have tackled the initial challenges of our devastation but there is still so much to do. I find myself praying that we do not just become the cause of the week, for even as things appear to be more and more normal the misery continues. There will be those so severely weakened both physically and psychologically that they will suffer for days and weeks and maybe even months to come. We have to remember them. We have to be ready to help them in every possible way. We have to prove that there really is more love than there was water.

It all began with Eric. I was working at Revere Middle School when our principal hired him to be an English teacher. He was immediately popular. Many of the single women were enchanted by his friendliness, good looks and winning smile. Those who had known him from a previous campus warned everyone who was falling for him that he appeared to be a confirmed bachelor who didn’t seem destined to settle down any time soon.

Eric was a super and experienced teacher, so there was little need for me to spend much time mentoring him. We generally just passed one another in the hallway and exchanged hellos until a dear friend of mine died. One afternoon when Eric and I were both in the same area monitoring students during a passing period I blurted out that I was feeling guilty and maybe even complicit in my friend’s death. Eric listened intently as I explained the situation. I had called my friend after school one day to check on him because his wife was in the hospital. I knew that he was an alcoholic but also a diabetic with heart trouble. I had asked him if he wanted me to swing by his house to make sure that he had everything that he needed. He assured me that he was fine and that he preferred to be alone for a time because he was quite tired. Something in my mind told me that he was not doing as well as he insisted. I pushed him a bit more and then reluctantly drove home, but not before urging him to check his blood sugar and let me know if there were any problems. Later I learned that he had died from a heart attack about forty five minutes after my phone call. I felt that somehow I might have saved him had I ignored his protests and gone to his home anyway. I had been unable to shake the feeling that I had made a terrible and deadly mistake.

Eric immediately erased my guilt. He noted that because my friend was an alcoholic he had created the situation for himself and that his death was no doubt inevitable whether or not I had been present. He assured me that nobody was going to be able to save my friend from the abuse that he was piling on his body until he decided to change his ways. From that moment forward Eric and I were fast friends and the intensity of our relationship only grew over time. Somehow I believe that it was destined for me to choose him to reveal my secret, because I truly doubt that anyone else would have been able to understand my predicament as well as he did.

One summer Eric returned from vacation to reveal that he had met a very special woman named Jenny. He proceeded to visit her as often as possible even though she lived in California. The so called confirmed bachelor was obviously thunderstruck and he came to my office now and again to discuss his plans and the ever growing love that he was feeling for this extraordinary woman. Ultimately he announced that he and Jenny were going to marry and that she would be moving to Houston. He wondered if she might procure a job at Paul Revere.

I spoke to our principal, David Kendler, and he worried a bit that Jenny’s background was in elementary school. He asked if I thought that someone with that kind of resume would be able to transition to middle school. Since I had taken the same career pathway myself I assured him that anyone capable of working well with little ones would be just fine with older students. “Well I hope she is as much of a rockstar as Eric,” he noted while agreeing to give Jenny an opportunity to demonstrate her teaching acumen.

Of course Jenny was also a rockstar teacher and as soon as she came to the school everyone understood why Eric was so in love with her. Together they became a power couple who was beloved by students and faculty members alike. Their openness and generosity defined them as well as their adventurous  spirits. Happily the friendship that I had begun with Eric only grew with Jenny in the picture. She and I seemed to be kindred spirits and I felt as though I had known her my entire life.

After I left Paul Revere for a job at KIPP Houston High School I missed my all of my former colleagues, but especially Eric and Jenny. I was exhilarated when they joined me at KHHS and brought their charisma and skills to that campus. My feelings for them developed to a point at which they became family in every sense of the word. We have shared hopes, dreams, disappointments, frustrations and so much love. I have rarely encountered two people who are always so sensitive to the needs of others. They are truly beautiful souls who have enhanced my life far beyond the power of words to express my