38 THE COASTAL BEND MAGAZINE • Late Summer 2018 TheCoastalBend.com 38 THE COASTAL BEND MAGAZINE • Early Summer 2018 TheCoastalBend.com “ROOF OVER MY HEAD”is the old slogan that translates to the basic meaning of “shelter,” and that the first level of threat that comes from Mother Nature tends to come from above—it’s what the cavemen where escap- ing when they headed into the cave. As supposedly advanced as we as a species are today, when Hurricane Harvey struck last year the determining factor of the level of destruction to just about any structure that survived the storm was, in fact, the roof. And the one-word explanation as to why, that thousands of good Coastal Benders can now personally confirm, is: mold. Mold is a fungal bacteria that is widely distributed throughout nature; it forms due to moisture in an environment with restricted ventilation and there are many varieties that are not all bad. In fact, mold has saved many millions of lives over the years, as it is the base organism from which penicillin and other medicines are derived. But mold within a structure is no good—it causes re- spiratory illnesses and is especially bad for the very young and elderly—and it smells bad, is very ugly, and can even lead to the structural weakening of walls, framing and other building components. So, even in storm-affected buildings where there was little visible damage to windows and walls, the determining factor of its habitability was whether the roof held up or not. If it was breached and water entered the structure, that was it. After Harvey, water that entered a building from above through a damaged roof, or below due to the storm surge, had black mold forming in it before the weekend of August 25th 2017 was over, accelerated by searing 90°F temperatures and typically high relative humidity. A home like the Bepko’s on La Playa Court in Port A was built on stilts to save it from a storm surge. The bottom floor garage, patio and storage areas are willingly sacrificed to a flood with the idea that the living areas, that are on the second and third floors, will be in the clear unless a surge reaches truly historic levels over 12 feet. All bets are off, however, if the roof goes—and un- fortunately for the Bepko’s it did. A rebuilding process that might have taken a few weeks or a month if the roof had held, will be well into its second year be- fore it’s complete—a circumstance shared by hundreds of island homeowners. When Brandon Bepko returned to Port A two days after the storm, he witnessed in his own home an astonishing variety of unpredictable damage that told, without much specificity, a tale of freakish events that must have taken place in the meteoro- logical chaos brought by Harvey. After pushing his way past the front door that was blocked with what can now be called debris, then known as his family’s possessions, Bepko was greeted by sunlight shining through his breached roof and ceiling drywall that failed from the water. Roof vents that had been placed at numerous spots across the top of the house were ripped off, leaving six-inch gaps through which rain water poured into the house. Bepko was fascinated to find that everything turned upward that could hold water—cups, bowls, kids’ toys—was filled to the top with water. Just a few days after the storm, it appeared as though 40% of exposed surfaces on walls, Roofing 101 Basic types of and components to shingle roofs.