It was August 1970. Corpus Christi, Texas was in shambles after Hurricane Celia.
Mayor Blackmon had put out a plea for his residents to open their homes, RV’s , garage apartments, etc. as temporary shelter for unfortunates left homeless.
So now Dad’s over cab camper sat oddly at the far edge of our sticker burr free safe zone/skating rink/basketball court. My favorite climbing tree providing needed shade. Dad handed the young man an extension cord so they could run a fan and have light at night.
Windy let me tote her baby around. She was probably thankful for the break. Days were hot, humid and miserable. I can still see her sitting at our kitchen table. Mom attempting awkward ‘what are your plans’ casual conversation while sipping instant Nestea. Windy’s stringy hair hiding her face. I felt like she would rather be anywhere but here. Or maybe that is what I felt for her.
After a few weeks of young husband making himself scarce my Dad gave them a few bucks to move on.
Dad made a life being of service to others. Preferably a hand up, as to hand out.
I don’t remember ever hearing from them again.
I will always remember my parents willingness to share in a time of crisis as Christians and good citizens.
Government assistance back then was a nice safety net used as a last resort. I’m not sure when the big shift happened. Who relieved us of personal responsibility which included, kindness to strangers causing drowning in ones own home waiting for a welfare taxi voucher? When did Mayors/Governors stop leading and unifying communities to have pride and take care of our own. instead of asking and expecting our Federal Government to hand out discouraging a hand up.
Hard to believe it has been 50 years this month Celia blew in and changed our Corpus Christi landscape, especially North Beach forever.
Lots of memories good and bad.
Time marches on and so it goes,
kisses
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