I passed through Houston Monday and found a lot of cheerful stoicism (“It could’ve been worse”) a month after Harvey had messed with Texas. Some boarded-up windows downtown, some houses awaiting demolition. A man told me his church was organizing volunteers to muck out houses hit by the hurricane. I only ever heard “muck out” in reference to cleaning a cow barn -- in this case, they’d be ripping up carpet, rotten floorboards, pulling out sheetrock, spraying with fungicide. He’d gotten off light so he was obligated to help those who hadn’t, he said.
I like Houston. Named for Sam, who skipped the fiasco of the Alamo and was elected president of the Republic of Texas and then lent his name to a major metropolis as the Alamo became a car-rental company.