…I hear that sometimes, but I don’t buy into it.  Sure there are big picture aspects that are the same from story to story. You have to get into the detail, though, and remember that while it’s a story to the editors and publishers, it’s people’s lives- and for that brief moment our lives are entwined.

For me, there is always someone I meet, often more than one someone, whose smile or tears leave an indelible mark on my memory. Sometimes I remember their names, other times its just someone I am only able to watch react to the adversity that has befallen them. My time in Galveston and Houston is no different. I will always remember seeing the dozens upon dozens of volunteers forming “bucket lines” to pass out water and ice to those who were in need. They were in need also, but they put their own needs on hold to aid their neighbors. But there are two individuals I will remember most of all.

For her smile and can’t-get-me-down-attitude, I will remember “Miss Robin.” She has a quaint little bed and breakfast in Houston. Robin’s Nest. After being pelted by driving rains and wind blown debris with correspondent Kris Gutierrez, producer Maggie Lineback, and photographers Guy Hernandez and Spencer for the best part of what Ike had to dish out… tired, wet, exhausted, we weaved our way into her neighborhood through downed power lines and trees. There waiting for us she had as comfortable a bed as I’ve ever slept in. Power was on surprisingly, but a man with a chainsaw took care of that.

Dangerous thing, a man with a chainsaw. I’m just glad he didn’t know where the water lines were. I got a nice hot shower. Robin has a German Shepherd. Rudy. He was brought to Houston after Katrina and left behind. Now he watches over Robin and all the guests who nest with her. Robin has the kind of face that that just says “everything’s gonna be alright.”

But then there are tears. Tears of a woman in my sat truck using my phone to call her son. Three days of no contact. Stranded on Galveston Island. I know the emotion she felt talking to her son. I feel it when I talk to my daughters after being away from home.

Galveston is much like a ghost town now in many areas. Downtown in particular. Streets empty with the exception of a power company crew in the distant block. The story is fading from national headlines now. A daily update or two on new death toll numbers or how many homes still remain without power.

There’s a new storm. Wall Street is a mess, remnants of another hurricane having swept through littering the streets with worthless financials. I can’t muster any sympathy for those swallowed by the greed that has flooded “the street.” Some politician says I need to pay more tax so I can feel more patriotic. How idiotic.

I’m headed home now. Back to Atlanta and my family. Won’t see them until tomorrow. I’ll cry when I see my girls. I’ve just been through a hurricane.

By Mayer Dubinsky, FNC Camerman

We spent the past two days on Galveston Island shooting video and live shots documenting the aftermath of Hurricane Ike. The road to recovery is well underway but there’s a long road ahead for the tough Texans who call the area home. Houston and many other towns inland are also heavily affected with many areas still in the dark and lots of clean up ahead.

Today was my first day to really tour the storm ravaged neighborhoods of Galveston. Ike played with peoples belongings like a big, mean old bully. Bending metal, breaking 6 by 6 lumber, and strewing boats about parking lots as if to cast them from his sandbox.

Public works crews are scurrying through sand covered roads like ants. They are literally bulldozing tunnels and pathways where roads once welcomed residents and tourists to the Texas coast. It will be sometime before residents get back into their homes and neighborhoods, much less any resemblance to any kind of tourism industry. But not to worry, Galvestonians, the tourists will come back. Mostly gawkers at first, coming in to see for themselves the damage to once familiar hang outs. We were set up for lives along the sea wall early this morning but were asked to move because engineers just aren’t sure how strong the sea wall still is after Ike’s tantrum.

Buried in the sand I saw two safes that hopefully had been emptied by the owners before the storm hit. There really was no way to tell where they came from. In many areas Galveston looks more a like a construction and demolition landfill than a once thriving beach community of 60,000 plus residents. As if there weren’t enough for rescue and EMS personnel to deal with just in search duties alone, late today comes word that and island habitat for exotic animals had “lost track” of a TIGER!! I know where all mine are.

Seems like Ike left the cage open when he pulled out. And the cattle are walking about beachfront roads as if they were back home on the range. Amazing. Oh… the President was here today. Ceremonial. Nice day for a helicopter ride I guess. Seems like a waste of fuel… that immensely sought after commodity that residents would sell their last striped tiger for. Maybe that’s where he got off too. Tomorrow is a new day and residents will start being allowed to trickle in for their first look at the task ahead of them. Look only. No touch. No collecting.

Officials have said those who attempt to stay may face fines of up to $2000 dollars. There are reports that martial law might be declared. A jail cell and three hot meals a day promised to those who disobey. A jail cell and three hot meals a day….hmmm. For some who’ve lost everything that might not be a day at the beach, but here these days, a day at the beach means hard labor. How ’bout those COWBOYS!

The “Can’t keep me down” spirit I see in the faces of Houstonians is in a word- astonishing.

As I watch bag after bag of ice along with water and other supplies being loaded into cars it suddenly dawns on me. This is no federal hand-out, no FEMA pick-me-up, in fact it has nothing to do with the government at all. All of these people are volunteers, working to unload what eventually be four tractor trailers of much needed relief. I know Texans are proud, but I see it in every disaster I go to.

Private business and citizens coming together, working to help those who are in the same horrible conditions. They’re not whining about helping and they’re not waiting for the government to ride in on a white horse and save them. But this time it is Texas. And Texans are working with hearts as big as the Lone Star state itself. You’ve seen the pictures on Fox News Channel by now, I’m sure. Long lines of people waiting, wanting essentials that right now are i short supply. There are other lines. Volunteers. While those lines may not e as long as the ones of those who are in need, they are equally impressive of themselves. Men, women, sisters, brothers. Texans. Americans.

No, there is no Federal Government at this distribution point, just people. Hopefully there’s a lesson here for all of us. We don’t need government getting so big that we forget how we started this country— Individuals banding together to fight a government that would dictate how we would live our lives. A government so big that we forget how to take care of ourselves and our neighbors.

A government that wants I absolutely hate that bad things happen. But they will. Maybe that’s part of the good that comes out of the bad- we are reminded that we can come together putting aside our differences and work together to get ourselves out of a tight spot without “big brother”. Be proud, Texans!

EXCLUSIVE VIDEO FROM THE STORM!

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I saw something outside Galveston, Texas yesterday that reminded me of those post-apocalyptic thriller movies where a handful of people are the only ones on earth to survive a worldwide disaster. It wasn’t anything on the scale of the drama that Hollywood creates, but it reminded me of how quickly we can lose touch with simple human kindness and the ability to think of others when a catastrophe strikes.

My photographer Dean Minney was shooting video of boats and yachts that had been picked up by the storm surge and placed neatly in the middle of Interstate 45 near Galveston. We were getting great shots of the bulldozers and backhoes pulling them off the freeway when I noticed something in the distance. I was confused to see three people and a dog walking in the northbound lanes out of Galveston. As the group moved closer, I approached them to find out who they were and where they were headed.

Freddie and Yvonne Collomore was pushing a baby carriage filled with whatever belongings they could salvage from their flooded Galveston home. They made sure their children and grandchildren made it out safely, but time ran out for them so they had to face the floodwaters and fury of Ike on the island. They survived, but almost everything they worked hard for was gone. Sunday was Yvonne’s birthday and she spent it walking 20 miles through heat, humidity and rain with only a few things of her 55 years of life stuffed into a baby carriage.

Right behind Yvonne and Freddie was Darren Emch pushing a wheeled garbage can with his stuff. He and his girlfriend shared a third story loft in downtown Galveston. They were planning to evacuate, but the early rush of floodwaters nearly 18 hours before landfall caught them off guard and destroyed their car before they could get off the island. Darren says his girlfriend was seven months pregnant and started to go into labor, so she was flown out by medical helicopter. The flight crew told Darren he could go too, but he would have to leave his dog Rayne behind. He says leaving Rayne alone to fend for himself was not an option.

During our interview all three told me they were making their way to meet family and friends who were waiting on the other side of a blockade on I-45. Police wouldn’t let anyone drive into Galveston to get them, so their only option was to walk about 20 miles out. The hardest part of this walk for them was not the heat, not the rain and not the blisters on their feet. The hardest part was watching police, government officials, utility companies, media, construction crews, all in roomy air conditioned trucks and SUV’s pass them by all day long. They said not one truck or car stopped to ask if they needed help, needed a ride or simply a bottle of water or food. Freddie said he was shocked at how some would just wave as they sped past the trio toward Houston.

After our interview, Dean and I decided that we would be the ones to help this group. We loaded their stuff onto our truck, let them use our phones to call their families and was prepared to take them to their family and friends waiting 10 miles up the road. But as bad luck would have it, we found ourselves in the same boat as Freddie, Yvonne, Darren and Rayne the dog. It was then that our truck chose not to start. We tried feverishly to get it going and give the group a lift, but no luck…we were stranded too. So we unloaded their stuff, gave them some water to take and sent them walking once again as other cars and trucks passed them by. They thanked us for at least trying to help them out and hoped we would pass along this simple message: the most important part of surviving a major disaster is helping each other. I want to thank Darren, the Collomores and Rayne the dog for reminding me of that.