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At a Shelter in Texas, Desperate for Clues to What Happened Back Home At a Shelter in Texas, Desperate for Clues to What Happened Back Home
(about 9 hours later)
SAN ANTONIO — Michelle McGowen could live with the likelihood that her home was lost. But she was desperate to know one thing: Were Uncle Jon and Uncle Paul still alive?SAN ANTONIO — Michelle McGowen could live with the likelihood that her home was lost. But she was desperate to know one thing: Were Uncle Jon and Uncle Paul still alive?
Stubborn and in frail health, the two men decided to anchor down with dogs and each other in their coastal Texas town of Aransas Pass. She, her two sons and their father boarded buses and fled inland ahead of the storm on Thursday, landing on cots in the gymnasium of a shuttered middle school here in San Antonio that is now home for hundreds of evacuees who fled the soaking destruction of Hurricane Harvey.Stubborn and in frail health, the two men decided to anchor down with dogs and each other in their coastal Texas town of Aransas Pass. She, her two sons and their father boarded buses and fled inland ahead of the storm on Thursday, landing on cots in the gymnasium of a shuttered middle school here in San Antonio that is now home for hundreds of evacuees who fled the soaking destruction of Hurricane Harvey.
As San Antonio, Dallas, Austin and other cities prepare thousands of beds for new waves of people fleeing the rising floodwaters, Ms. McGowen and those who have already found dry ground are a glimpse of the potentoal humanitarian emergency on the horizon. They have few clothes, no cars or way home, and are living in a haze of uncertainty, searching for answers from home as to what — and who — survived. As San Antonio, Dallas, Austin and other cities prepare thousands of beds for new waves of people fleeing the rising floodwaters, Ms. McGowen and those who have already found dry ground are a glimpse of the potential humanitarian emergency on the horizon. They have few clothes, no cars or way home, and are living in a haze of uncertainty, searching for answers from home as to what — and who — survived.
They watch television coverage in the hopes that a drone camera or news helicopter might flit past their neighborhoods. They hunt through the social media feeds of friends who stayed behind, looking for clues on whether a neighbor’s home was wrecked or spared. They dial and redial phone numbers that go straight to voicemail, or just ring and ring.They watch television coverage in the hopes that a drone camera or news helicopter might flit past their neighborhoods. They hunt through the social media feeds of friends who stayed behind, looking for clues on whether a neighbor’s home was wrecked or spared. They dial and redial phone numbers that go straight to voicemail, or just ring and ring.
“I’m terrified,” Ms. McGowen said, as she sat on the concrete benches outside of one of three emergency shelters in San Antonio that, as of Sunday night, were housing 1,002 evacuees. A day earlier, she said, someone swiped her phone, cutting her off from the rest of her family.“I’m terrified,” Ms. McGowen said, as she sat on the concrete benches outside of one of three emergency shelters in San Antonio that, as of Sunday night, were housing 1,002 evacuees. A day earlier, she said, someone swiped her phone, cutting her off from the rest of her family.
“I have no way of even getting a hold of them.”“I have no way of even getting a hold of them.”
In normal times, Ms. McGowen said she and her extended family would call one another every two hours to chat and check in. The last time she talked to her Uncle Jon, the hurricane was bearing down and he told her that the wind was stripping away the doors and windows of the mobile home where she home-schooled her sons, Connor and Bobby Lewis, 9 and 11 years old.In normal times, Ms. McGowen said she and her extended family would call one another every two hours to chat and check in. The last time she talked to her Uncle Jon, the hurricane was bearing down and he told her that the wind was stripping away the doors and windows of the mobile home where she home-schooled her sons, Connor and Bobby Lewis, 9 and 11 years old.
“We live four feet below sea level,” Ms. McGowen said. “I know I don’t have a house.”“We live four feet below sea level,” Ms. McGowen said. “I know I don’t have a house.”
Paul Wood, 61, a foreman at a cattle ranch, said that a neighbor’s garage was flattened in his hometown, Rockport, which was right in the path of the storm. But a gas leak had kept residents at bay, and he was unsure about the fate of his family’s home.Paul Wood, 61, a foreman at a cattle ranch, said that a neighbor’s garage was flattened in his hometown, Rockport, which was right in the path of the storm. But a gas leak had kept residents at bay, and he was unsure about the fate of his family’s home.
On Sunday night, he dropped off his dogs at an animal shelter that is caring for hurricane-evacuated pets. And he said he was focused on one thing: “Just getting back down there and rebuilding. I know we can.”On Sunday night, he dropped off his dogs at an animal shelter that is caring for hurricane-evacuated pets. And he said he was focused on one thing: “Just getting back down there and rebuilding. I know we can.”
Like many others at the middle school, Sena Gonzalez, 35, and her 5-year-old son, Agustin, had few material things to lose when Harvey drove them out of Corpus Christi. They had been staying in a shelter for homeless women and their children since moving there from Portland, and now found themselves in another shelter in another city.Like many others at the middle school, Sena Gonzalez, 35, and her 5-year-old son, Agustin, had few material things to lose when Harvey drove them out of Corpus Christi. They had been staying in a shelter for homeless women and their children since moving there from Portland, and now found themselves in another shelter in another city.
Ms. Gonzalez said she was ambivalent about returning to Corpus Christi and her morning-shift job at McDonald’s. She said she had called her mother in Mississippi asking for help in evacuating, but hung up angry when her mother said no. She said she had not spoken much with her family since then, but was worried about a friend, Jennifer, who stayed at her home in Port Aransas, right along the Gulf.Ms. Gonzalez said she was ambivalent about returning to Corpus Christi and her morning-shift job at McDonald’s. She said she had called her mother in Mississippi asking for help in evacuating, but hung up angry when her mother said no. She said she had not spoken much with her family since then, but was worried about a friend, Jennifer, who stayed at her home in Port Aransas, right along the Gulf.
The last time they talked, Ms. Gonzalez said, Jennifer said her lights were going out and she was turning her phone off to preserve the battery.The last time they talked, Ms. Gonzalez said, Jennifer said her lights were going out and she was turning her phone off to preserve the battery.
“Don’t know if she’s O.K.,” she said.“Don’t know if she’s O.K.,” she said.
Terrance Yellets left his home in Corpus Christi on Friday afternoon with his girlfriend, 1-year-old daughter, De’Leah, and 4-year-old son, De’Avery. They crammed the trunk of their white Buick with clothes, root beer, chips, detergent and Huggies diapers. They have little idea what happened to the home and the family they left behind.Terrance Yellets left his home in Corpus Christi on Friday afternoon with his girlfriend, 1-year-old daughter, De’Leah, and 4-year-old son, De’Avery. They crammed the trunk of their white Buick with clothes, root beer, chips, detergent and Huggies diapers. They have little idea what happened to the home and the family they left behind.
“We’re in the dark,” Mr. Yellets said as he and De’Leah walked through the breezy night to fetch a change of clothes from the car.“We’re in the dark,” Mr. Yellets said as he and De’Leah walked through the breezy night to fetch a change of clothes from the car.
He cannot reach his parents on the phone. His brother, who also hunkered down in Corpus Christi, has been unable to reach their home because of flooding. Day by day, money worries grow. He said the family could not afford more than one day at a hotel, and he is unsure when he will go back to work at his $600-a-week job at a steel plant. Mr. Yellets’s son is also getting anxious.He cannot reach his parents on the phone. His brother, who also hunkered down in Corpus Christi, has been unable to reach their home because of flooding. Day by day, money worries grow. He said the family could not afford more than one day at a hotel, and he is unsure when he will go back to work at his $600-a-week job at a steel plant. Mr. Yellets’s son is also getting anxious.
“Every day, he’s talking about, I want to go home,” he said. “That’s where everything is.”“Every day, he’s talking about, I want to go home,” he said. “That’s where everything is.”