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Huddled around 25 candles on a cake in a hot, dark house, my mom and dad sang happy birthday to me as we listened to the winds of Hurricane Ike begin to blow in. Hours later in their home in Deer Park, about a half hour from the coast, those winds would become deafening blasts of air that would shake our house to the very core.

Earlier that day (Sept. 12), I had been preparing my apartment in Katy for the worst, expecting them to come take shelter with me. I didn’t know how to board up my windows, though, and I lived on the first floor and was afraid of flooding. So, when my parents decided they were staying at home, after an unsuccessful attempt to put their cats in pet carriers, I panicked.

I know they can take care of themselves, but there had been rumors that the area they lived in could flood so much that people would be forced to go up on the roof. My mom has trouble getting around and I just felt the need to be there in case either one of them needed extra help. Plus, who wants to spend their birthday in an apartment waiting to see if the windows blow out?

Driving back home on the Sam Houston Toll Road was eerie. Buildings were boarded up tight, hardly anyone was on the roads and all the tolls were open. But, I felt a strong sense of pride for the land I had been born in and a strong need to protect it. A patrol car also going east passed me by, and I knew I was not alone in how I felt.

It seemed somewhat ironic to me that I had been born into the world a few days after the onslaught of Hurricane Alicia and now here I was, 25 years later, awaiting Ike.

Throughout my years, I have weathered many storms, including a few hurricanes, which we have never evacuated for.

As I drove home, thoughts of the devastation caused by Hurricanes Katrina and Rita crossed my mind, and I wondered if I had made the right decision in going back.

When I arrived in Deer Park, it was lunchtime, so I met my sister at the only restaurant open in town, Cattledrive Barbecue. The uneasiness I had felt on my way home slowly dissipated as I waited in the 30-minute line, with police officers, fire fighters, plant workers, teachers and all my other neighbors - stubborn Texans intent on getting a good meal. Almost everyone I could think of had stayed in Deer Park, and then I began to wonder if we would end up like those who had stayed in New Orleans, thinking they had seen it before and would just wait this one out.

And that’s a valid point, too, especially after learning about the hundreds of people on Galveston Island who had thought the same thing during Hurricane Ike and needed to be rescued.

Sometimes stubborness can get you in trouble.

It all comes down to having faith in the local meteorologists and their forecasts. The difference between the projected effects of Hurricane Ike on Galveston and on Deer Park were obvious from the forecasts, with a mandatory evacuation in place for the island and a shelter-in-place order given for my hometown.

When those winds starting pounding against the house, though, that faith that we would be OK was tested.

Going through a natural disaster of that magnitude is especially disturbing when you cannot see out the window at what is going on, you cannot turn on the TV or see to the end of the hall because there is no power and you are sweating profusely, after being accustomed to a life in air conditioning.

The storm raged until 2 a.m., and then it went silent. Deadly silent. And then I knew the worst part was coming - the winds that followed the eye of the storm. I was terrified.

Six hours later, I opened the front door to demolished fences, hanging tree limbs, trees that were now sticks, and dirt, leaves and boards everywhere.

The sound of Houston Mayor Bill White’s voice on the radio giving instructions on what not to do (don’t drink the water and don’t get on the road) comforted me, reminding me that civilization had not been lost. Anytime there is an emergency, it is important for people to know that they are not alone, and when locked inside a boarded-up house in the dark, the voice of officials on the news provides a connection to the outside.

Likewise, the sound of a generator also brought me back to the light of day. That continuous sound would grind on my nerves a day later, though.

I have never been a fan of camping, mainly because I cannot stand the heat - I have no tolerance for it. Unfortunately, being without electricity is like camping, the heat is evasive.

You either have to take a cold shower - if you’re lucky enough to have water - or go sit in your car - if you’re lucky enough to have gas and your car hasn’t been flooded - to escape the heat. It makes people irritable in an already frustrating situation of dwindling supplies, lessened communications and having no power to do anything about it.

But, this time around, emergency responders were determined not to have a repeat of the chaos caused by hurricanes of the past. Being a somewhat nosy person, I had to get out and see what had happened - plus I had to charge my cell phone so I could still stay in touch since the phone lines didn’t work.

Going around town, I was shocked to find power lines snapped in half like popsicle sticks, the golden arches of McDonalds laying in a heap on the ground, a carport on top of a business and the metal fencing of a scrap yard wrapped around power lines and buildings 15 minutes down the road.

Amidst this devastation, though, I was pleasantly surprised to also find police officers taking action and blocking off roads with high water and where power lines were almost touching the ground, and the sirens of ambulances and firetrucks resounding let me know that people cared.

Looting was also an issue, as I would soon find out. My sister and her husband had been pinned to the ground of a friend’s home on Friday by police officers who thought they were looting. The friend, who had evacuated, contacted my sister asking her to retrieve pictures of his children and take them to a safe place. Eventually, the officers let them go after hearing their explanation of things. Did they overreact? Maybe, but consider the other extreme: I heard a rumor before coming back to Katy that the Wal-Mart I shop at had been looted and burned.

This is the same Wal-Mart that is five minutes from my then-empty apartment - the apartment that holds my whole life. I began to worry that those same looters had gone down the road a bit and hit up my home.

To add to my worries, the roads back home were not safe to travel on early Saturday morning, so I decided to depart that evening instead. I started out at about 6:50 p.m. only to learn on the radio of a curfew in Houston that started at 7 p.m.

I felt inconvenienced and I felt trapped; but, to stay safe and avoid a fine I had to turn back. Then I stopped to think. I was safe, my family was safe and it seemed like things were running smoothly, since there appeared to be a plan, even if it was one that didn’t work with my schedule. But disasters themselves don’t work into very many people’s schedules. What’s important is that you have faith in your elected officials to protect you and respond, that you prepare yourself and that you lend a helping hand.

At all stages of the storm, I was surprised to find people acting like good neighbors and not panicking.

Getting gas on Friday, people patiently waited in line for an hour. At Wal-Mart that same day, people did not shove each other to get to the ice or water, but politely waited their turn. On Saturday, with the effects of Hurricane Ike scattered about in people’s yards, neighbors checked on one another, barbecued meals together and helped each other pick up the debris, promising more help to rebuild things like fences. And on Sunday, when the line at the grocery store stretched a mile long, people again waited patiently for the chance to gather much-needed supplies and navigated the isles of the store with courtesy for one another.

My sister and her coworkers, who work in the Chase Tower in downtown Houston, were already discussing ways they could help their company clean up the mess made by Ike and get back on track.

While there may not be electricity in Deer Park or in much of Houston for a few more days, the response to Hurricane Ike by Texans sheds some light on the right way to deal with the aftermath of a storm - and with everyday life.

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