I remember Galveston in the hours and days following Hurricane Beryl in July of 2024. It wasn’t a picture perfect postcard. In fact, the only thing perfect waiting on the other side of the causeway was the sunset and the waves.
The condo had no electricity. No air conditioning. For several nights, sleep meant laying by the sliding glass doors, hoping for even the smallest breeze, fighting mosquitoes, and reminding myself that discomfort was temporary. What stayed with me wasn’t the inconvenience, it was what I witnessed around me.
I saw resilience up close.
Across the island, businesses and homeowners were dealing with damage at the same time. Power was out. Heat was relentless. Everyone was tired. And yet, what stood out most was empathy. Neighbors checked on neighbors. Strangers helped strangers. People who were struggling themselves still found time to ask, “Are you okay?”
That kind of response doesn’t happen by accident. It comes from a special community of people, people who care deeply about where they live and about one another. Those are people worth fighting for.
Galveston has a long history of recovering from catastrophic events. It’s part of who we are. Storms come, tides rise, and somehow this island endures. But resilience isn’t just about buildings standing back up. It’s about people choosing to stay engaged, to rebuild thoughtfully, and to hold space for one another when things are hardest.
What struck me most in the months that followed was not just the damage, but how long some of it lingered.
More than a year later, there are still businesses with broken signage. Apartments with visible structural damage. Condemned properties sitting idle, especially in District 6. These places don’t just affect aesthetics, they attract problems, create safety risks, and quietly undermine the pride of the neighborhoods around them.
As a city that depends on tourism, we need to ask ourselves a hard but necessary question:
How can we expect visitors to care for Galveston if we don’t?
Resilience doesn’t mean accepting neglect as inevitable. It means responding with intention. If we want to attract visitors who add value, not just volume, we must take responsibility for how our city looks, feels, and functions. That includes holding ourselves accountable for maintaining properties, addressing blight, and ensuring that lights aren’t left off and trash isn’t left behind.
This isn’t about punishment. It’s about stewardship.
A city that takes pride in itself sends a message. It says: This place matters. And that message attracts residents, businesses, and visitors who treat Galveston with the respect it deserves.
As a City Council member, my focus would be on resilience that leads to real recovery, not just survival. That means pairing compassion with accountability and empathy with action. Some initiatives I believe could make a meaningful difference include:
- Accelerated removal of condemned and dangerous properties, especially those that pose safety risks or attract criminal activity
- Clear timelines and enforcement for post-storm repairs, paired with support and guidance for small business owners navigating recovery
- Incentives for revitalization, encouraging property owners to reinvest and restore rather than abandon
- Neighborhood-focused cleanup and beautification efforts, particularly in areas most impacted by storms
- Transparency in recovery funding and enforcement, so residents know what’s being addressed, what’s delayed, and why
Resilience isn’t passive. It’s active. It’s choosing not to look away when recovery takes longer than it should. It’s recognizing that a strong city doesn’t just bounce back, it rebuilds better.
What I saw after Hurricane Beryl confirmed something I already believed: Galveston’s greatest strength isn’t its location or its history, it’s the people. People who show up. People who help even when they’re hurting. People who care deeply about this island and the neighbors who share it.
My desire is simple and sincere: to help keep Galveston great by honoring its resilience, protecting its neighborhoods, and ensuring that recovery leads to renewal, not decline.
That’s the kind of future worth working toward. And it’s one I believe we can build together.