by Dr. Victor S. Sierpina
Today, I finally met and had a nice conversation with ole John Dundee, whose father’s family has been in Galveston since long before the Storm. Not Ike, the 1900 one. Oh, that big one. It is fascinating what draws people to a place and how some just settle in for generations while others move on to happier hunting grounds.
Galveston seems to be a magnet for both the lifers and the gypsies and we are all richer for it. My talk with John and his mom, who is a relative newbie to the Island, only having lived here since 1942, reminded me of Cecil, a 93-year-old patient I took care of in Colorado.Sometime in the 1930s, during the Great Depression, Cecil and his family were traversing the U.S. looking for a better life. Their Model T pickup broke down in the high country San Luis Valley of Colorado. Their only possessions were a bag of potatoes and a bag of beans, so they decided to light there and became contributing members of the community, teachers, farmers, small business owners, and so on.
Cecil was a stout 93 and sharp as a tack. We were out together fishing on a frigid mountain lake with my son when I reached for an oar I had dropped overboard.I tipped the canoe, and Cecil too. The water was about 50 degrees and though he was wearing a life jacket, I figured he wouldn’t last long in that chilly state. Some fishermen cast us a line, and we used it to drag out a rope and they pulled us into shore.When we stumbled ashore on a bright but windy day, old Cecil was shivering like a Chihuahua. I rushed him to the local ER, 20 miles away. We warmed him up and then I realized, his trusty pacemaker had likely kept his heart thumping despite hypothermia. He was fine and we had a good laugh about it later. The worst part was we lost the fine lake trout we had caught, along with all my fishing gear.
It reminded me how tough people have to be sometime to live in a challenging climate like the mountains of Colorado or the hurricane-swept shores of Galveston. They develop a certain camaraderie, a sense of place and tradition that bonds them together, sometimes to the exclusion of those who are new to the area.One night, Cecil stood up to make a statement to the local school board, the closest thing Saguache County had to our Galveston City Council. It was often a rancorous place and where people aired all sorts of grievances both large and petty.Well, one rancher who had been born in that valley disagreed with Cecil. He was only about half Cecil’s age, but he told the ancient one to shut-up and just sit down declaring, “What do you know? You ain’t even from here!”Cecil, who had lived there about 75 years by that time found himself totally befuddled by the man’s attitude and ignorance.Yet there it was. Place triumphing good sense.
I just don’t know why that story came to mind while John D and I talked. He certainly is a sensible, optimistic, and honorable guy. Mostly I find, people from around here are like him. Though proud of their Galveston heritage, they generously make room for us newcomers.