A Journal of a Survivor of the 1900 Galveston Hurricane - Book Report/Review Example

Lecturer’s 25 November A Journal of a Survivor of the 1900 Galveston Hurricane September 7, 1900. Life is good. I spent the morning hours going round my father’s cotton farm. Everything was fine. The workers were in high spirits. The crops blossoming. Later, I went for lunch at an open restaurant with my friends Tom and Jenny. It was a great moment. We discussed our future plans since we had just completed high school. I wanted to join Harvard University and pursue a law degree. Tom was interested in undertaking a course in architecture.

Jenny was keen on finding a job so she could support her ailing mother. This prompted us to plan about paying Jenny’s mother a visit. Poor woman, she had been attacked by a mugger. We suspected the mugger was one of the many immigrants from Europe, who, after finding it hard to get a job, had turned to crime (Larson 18). September 8, 1900. The day started rather slowly, being a Saturday, there was not much to engage in. I planned to go to the beach in the afternoon, but I changed my mind. It had become extraordinarily windy and cloudy.

Then the wind became catastrophic. It was blowing items all over. Then came the stormy rain and news of floods. I received the warnings of the impending floods after I called the Bureau of meteorology (Larson 43). Neighbors also informed me that an official from the Bureau known as Isaac Cline was going round the streets and beach warning people of the impending floods and informing them to move to the center of the town. Together with my family, we headed his advice and abandoned our house to seek safety at the town center.

There was panic and fear as everyone scampered for safety in knee high flood waters (Larson 92). September 9, 1900. I hardly slept last. Together with other survivors, we had spent the night trying to salvage both life and property. Houses at the lower sides of the town had been destroyed by the raging waters. In order to survive, I and other survivors were on top of the floating debris shielding ourselves from the flying timber blown by the wind with pieces of wood. Despite this, many people who had managed to escape the wreck of their houses were killed atop the debris.

We managed to land on a safe house. The water had subsided, though the rain was still heavy (Larson 286). September 10, 1900. I witnessed the most grievous loss of both life and property. Nearly half of the town’s residential area had been destroyed. This means that nearly six thousand people had perished. Dead bodies were being washed around by water. Crying people were in search of their family members and close relatives. Bodies trapped under rubble and wrecked houses were being retrieved.

It was horrible, I thanked God I was alive. I also remembered people like Isaac Cline for warning us. I partly owe him my life. Though he had earlier said that hurricanes cannot be predicted, he made a mistake, just like any of us (Larson 226, 320). September 11, 1900. It was time for reconstruction, reckoning and reflecting. The whole disaster had changed my perception of life. Life is precious and a gift that one rarely realizes how privileged they are to have it until they experience horrible events like these.

I also learnt the importance of science and its ability to avert or prevent disaster (Larson 324, 18). Work Cited Larson, E. Isaac’s Storm: A Man, a Time, and the Deadliest Hurricane in History. New York: Vintage, 2000. Print.