My grandmother's first husband was a German who beat her. She defied the societal rules of the late 1800s, and divorced him. Supporting herself by playing piano for the silent movie theaters in Galveston, she shared a home with her two sisters.
One afternoon in 1900, she tied a bedsheet between herself and her sisters, and waded through a storm and a flood to reach a building built on a concrete slab; one that was withstanding the storm taking place. At times, the water came up to their chests, but the home they left was made of wood, and perched on a pier-and-beam foundation. The water came up to the chin of the smallest great-aunt at times, but they made it finally to a grocery store, standing safe in the storm.
Two days later, having no food or water to drink, they made their way across a ruined train trestle to the mainland. Other desperate people had laid ruined planks along the voids in the tracks. They made their way to Eunice, where they had relatives. Galveston was destroyed, most of it's citizens dead. Many of the bodies were washed out to sea and never found.
Less than 6 months later, my grandmother returned to Galveston and began rebuilding her home.
I have heard this story many times in my life; at times I have groaned at it's repetition. Now, I understand that my grandmother was a survivor many times over. I think for the first time, I understand the story, and why it has deserved so much retelling.
One afternoon in 1900, she tied a bedsheet between herself and her sisters, and waded through a storm and a flood to reach a building built on a concrete slab; one that was withstanding the storm taking place. At times, the water came up to their chests, but the home they left was made of wood, and perched on a pier-and-beam foundation. The water came up to the chin of the smallest great-aunt at times, but they made it finally to a grocery store, standing safe in the storm.
Two days later, having no food or water to drink, they made their way across a ruined train trestle to the mainland. Other desperate people had laid ruined planks along the voids in the tracks. They made their way to Eunice, where they had relatives. Galveston was destroyed, most of it's citizens dead. Many of the bodies were washed out to sea and never found.
Less than 6 months later, my grandmother returned to Galveston and began rebuilding her home.
I have heard this story many times in my life; at times I have groaned at it's repetition. Now, I understand that my grandmother was a survivor many times over. I think for the first time, I understand the story, and why it has deserved so much retelling.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
jenya:
it's very good to hear about survival stories......thank you for cheering me up a bit during this sad time
akiva:
That's a good story. However, I would have been more impressed if she had turned back the storm with the force of her indomitable will and mind power.;