In Beryl’s Wake: Red Cross Disaster Leader Gives a Personal Take on what Texans Face Following the Hurricane

By Brad Kieserman, vice president, Disaster Operations and Logistics for the American Red Cross

Imagine you wake up in your small house or trailer and it feels like 106 degrees. It’s so humid that your body feels heavy and uncomfortably damp. You don’t yet have power back and no air conditioning. Your neighbors are in the same boat, so you can’t go next door for relief. The street you live on has standing floodwater; your neighborhood smells old, rotten and stale, making it even harder to breathe.

Maybe you have a heart problem, diabetes, asthma or you don’t get around well. These oppressive conditions are extra hard on you. You turn to your loyal old dog for comfort, but she’s suffering like you are - just lying there listless on the floor - and that’s breaking your heart because there’s nothing you can do for her. You and your dog are both hungry and thirsty, but you can’t get out, and even if you could, all the stores are closed because they don’t have power either. Even worse, you’re losing hope because it’s been like this for three days, and no one can tell you when or if it’s going to get better.

Or maybe you’re in a senior living high-rise, and you’re effectively trapped in a hot box because the elevators and air conditioners are out with the power. You were getting a little news from your phone until last night when the battery died. You’re unbearably hot, sad, afraid, hungry, thirsty and hopeless.

Welcome to Houston, welcome to Galveston, welcome to Matagorda, welcome to a dozen counties in East Texas - and thank you, Hurricane Beryl, for making me, my dog, and my neighbors so miserable and sick.

For about 5,000 of these folks, it’s much worse. They’re waking up in a home that’s been flooded by black water - contaminated floodwaters composed of sewage and wastewater, stormwater runoff and debris. The smell will choke you, make you feel like someone’s punched you in the throat. And just an inch of it in a trailer has effectively destroyed your home.

There’s a tree that’s fallen through your roof and onto your car, so it’s difficult or impossible to go anywhere to get help. Your roof is gone, your windows are shattered, and if you have drywall, it’s a sopping mess that will have to be completely torn out and replaced. Your furniture s destroyed. Fixing and replacing this will cost you money you simply don’t have. You feel hopeless and physically sick.

Then, one of the 30 Red Cross Emergency Response Vehicles (ERVs) arrives in your neighborhood with a hot meal, cold water and information about what’s going on. You ask if you should expect power back tonight, and the Red Cross volunteer in the ERV says through the feeding window, “I don’t know about that, but there’s a Red Cross shelter here” - pointing to the Red Cross Emergency App on their phone - “just a few miles away with power, air conditioning, food, water and a pretty comfortable cot.” You say, “Thanks, but that’s my car over there with the tree on it, so I have no way to get there.” The Red Cross volunteer replies, “I think I can help you with that because we have a deal with Uber. Let me call our headquarters to see if I can get you a ride.” You ask, “Can I take my dog?” The volunteer smiles and says, “Of course, we will make sure we can help you and your dog.”

Or there’s a knock on your door on the 10th floor of your senior living high-rise, and there’s a Red Cross volunteer with a hot meal, a box of shelf-stable food, a case of water and a reassuring smile. You tell them you’re out of insulin, and they say, “Don’t worry, we’ll call that in right now.”

Or you’ve arrived at one of the open Red Cross shelters after you called 1-800-REDCROSS. It’s cool, and now you have a cot, snacks and water. A Red Cross disaster health services volunteer sits next to you and says, “Tell me what happened.” Soon, you have a new pair of eyeglasses, refills for all your meds that you had to leave behind, and a bit of hope that maybe Beryl won’t have ruined everything.

This is personal for me. I was 10 years old when Hurricane Agnes struck Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, in 1972 and destroyed my grandparents’ home. Those first few paragraphs in this email are not from my imagination at my desk in Front Royal, Virginia. I lived it. Over the next year, I watched my grandfather die because of it. While I’ve been on the scene at hundreds of disasters since, that first one hasn’t left me. So, as long as we have the resources to alleviate that kind of human suffering, we are not going to let that happen again. Ever.

YOU CAN HELP Please click, text or call to help people affected by the Hurricane Beryl in the United States. Visit redcross.org/donate, call 1-800-RED CROSS (800-733-2767) or text the word BERYL to 90999. Your gift enables the Red Cross to prepare for, respond to and help people recover from this disaster.