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The concert season has been pretty good this year. M and I
used our last set of tickets on Friday to see Jethro Tull at the
Strand Theatre in Shreveport, La. I got confused on where it
was, and we went to the Municipal Auditorium, another storied
old building, instead. Finding the imposter deserted and dark, I
called the box office and they straightened us out. We only had
to drive a few blocks.
The Strand is a magnificent place, all done up in Victorian
elegance, built in the 1920s, but fully restored to its proper
grandeur. This setting was so much more intimate than the first
time I saw Tull in concert. That one was also in Shreveport, but
in an old arena with 5000 other people and horrible acoustics.
The Strand only seats 1600, and it was sold out. The concert was
a benefit for Hurricane Katrina relief, with all proceeds going
to the Red Cross. Everyone got a free CD with a recent
live recording of the Aqualung album. Anyone who knows what the
theme of the album is will understand how apropos it is. I was
pleasantly surprised that it is as good a listen as the original
studio version.
Ian Anderson mentioned during the performance that they were
originally slated to play in Biloxi on this date, but the venue
blew away. Throughout the evening, his wit was razor sharp and
largely spontaneous, and the music was just the same. The crowd
was boisterous and most appreciative. To be able to play like
this after 34 years is just amazing.
The old rock and rollers have been doing OK this season. Earlier
in the month, I saw Neil Diamond in the new arena downtown, and
it was sold out as well. Although it was good to hear the old
favorites, his voice and energy have faded a bit from Hot August
Night days. We had lawn "seats" at the Pavillion to see John
Mellencamp and John Fogerty together back in September, and it
was the biggest crowd I've ever seen there. Fogerty was at
Woodstock and served in the army in Viet Nam, to get an idea of
his age, but his voice was still strong.
There are some talented younger musicians out there these days,
but nothing like it was during the golden age of rock and roll.
When the music's over, turn out the lights...
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We've been needing to replace an old section of bulkhead at the
lake for a long time, but it took awhile to find the right idea
and save the money to do it. We've seen a lot of different
techniques used, but when you try to hold back dirt on the bank
of a flowing river with an 8 foot variation in level, it isn't
easy. The folks who build levees like the ones that failed in
New Orleans have a tough job.
After rejecting the traditional anchored post and board method
because of too many existing trees and rocks, then seeing
problems at other locations with walls built of vinyl sheet
pile, we decided to give the job to a contractor who makes
freestanding walls of bags of concrete mix. If simple is
elegant, then this is clearly the winner. It took the crew of
half a dozen nine days to build it, hauling everything by hand
and wheelbarrow from the top yard about fifty feet up the hill.
This one should last for as long as we're around to enjoy it.
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M and I hunkered down at the house like most other people as
Hurricane Rita headed north a week ago. The unpredictability of
these sorts of storms is so high that you just have to wait
until it passes to see how much damage comes your way. After
making landfall at Sabine pass, the center of the storm pretty
much followed the Sabine river north, eventually passing about
20 miles east of our house. Fortunately, by then it had
weakened so much that it had only enough power to make a little
mess in the yard with widow-makers dislodged from the trees and
a much needed four inches of rain.
I had already planned to stay in the area long enough to get a
contractor started on some retaining wall work at the lake
shack, so as others were straggling back to the city on Sunday
and Monday, I waited. After spending all day at the lake on
Tuesday to oversee the work, I lit out for Houston at 4:30 AM
Wednesday. Even driving in the dark, I could tell that the
further south I went, the worse things got. When I got near
Corrigan, the source of my angst on the way north on account of
its one working stop light, there was only blackness. At the
dreaded stop light, the only source of light was a couple of
highway patrol cars with red and blue flashes cascading off the
surrounding buildings. I slowed and finally saw a policeman
waving his orange wand flashlight as if I were an airplane
taxiing in to the terminal. The rest of the hamlets along the
route were the same, all dark.
When I got to my office at 7:30, the sun had come up and the
power was on. But things were far from normal, as all the plants
had been shut down, and the focus was on trying to get things
back to normal. For all the businesses in southeast Texas, it
was at best a wasted two weeks. For many, it will stretch on
much longer.
When organizations plan for emergencies, there is no simulation
that exposes all the potential problems quite like the real
thing. The problems with gridlock during the evacuation could
probably have been predicted, but I was a little surprised that
as of Thursday evening, six days after the storm passed, the
grocery stores were still severely depleted, particularly with
respect to produce, dairy, and meat products. There wasn't any
beef or chicken to be had at the nearest Wal Mart - I assume
they had to throw everything away as the power went out, and
their supply chain, which works so efficiently during normal
times, simply became overwhelmed.
But I'm not complaining. All told, folks in my neighborhoods
came out of a potential disaster with only minor inconveniences.
Our neighbors just a few miles to the east were completely wiped
out. They will be trying to pick up the pieces for many months
to come.
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