[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] Katrina, Ike, and Sandy--are these extreme events new normal? The emerging realities of a changing climate, as manifest in sea level rise and more intense storms, further exacerbate risk in ways that we are struggling to understand and prepare for. The associated challenges are particularly acute in multitude of small communities that dot our southern coasts. Yet for those of us lucky enough to call these special places home, living here provides a rich source of memories and a unique quality of life that is inextricably linked to environmental conditions that are most threatened. As threats mount to this way of life, what can be done to help such places, and memories they hold for current and future generations, endure? In order to address this question, I will first offer my own autobiographical experiences associated with growing up in a southern coastal town and supplement them with historical accounts. Then I will discuss hurricanes Alicia and Ike, including how their effects on coastal communities were significantly exacerbated by a number of pre-event conditions, including unsustainable development practices that maximize economic gains at expense of environment and equitable decision-making processes--two pillars of sustainability. I will conclude with a series of recommendations that advance concept of resilience, an idea that frames how we can adapt to living in an inherently hazardous and dynamic environment. Nostalgia has often served to glorify an idealized past, belying a reluctance to change, accept more progressive ideas, or to take action to redress inequity. Here, nostalgia is intended to help elucidate concerns about degradation of natural environment and to inspire a new approach intended to sustain a unique way of life that is disappearing. These environmental changes can also provoke greater political activism focused on preservation of place and memories grounded there. Revisiting past can inspire us to counteract unchecked growth, a disregard for nature, and ensuing, largely predictable disasters that are particularly devastating to small coastal towns. GROWING UP IN SHOREACRES, TEXAS I grew up in Shoreacres, Texas, located on northwestern reach of Galveston Bay. My youth was spent exploring bay, including its bayous, and nearby shrimping villages. Summers involved swimming, diving from channel markers, crabbing, fishing, seining for shrimp and bait fish, windsurfing, and sailing. We roamed neighborhood on foot or bike as small town was easy to navigate, going from one friend's house to another, stopping at common destinations along way; neighbor's front yard where we played football, soccer goal Dad and I built in our backlot, neighborhood pier, and forts we constructed in woods. We rode to nearby Kemah, filling our backpacks with shrimp just offloaded by shrimpers to boil with crabs we caught that morning. (1) [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] On occasion we would sail or swim to what we called the islands, most of which were spoil banks located a couple of miles offshore. Getting to islands by Sunfish (a small sailboat) or windsurfer was easy. Swimming was another matter, although not too hard, as most of us learned to swim at a young age. While Galveston Bay is shallow, rarely exceeding eight feet in depth, we tread water or floated on our backs when we grew tired as bay's muddy bottom didn't offer sound footing. The real challenge was swimming across Houston Ship Channel, which was more than a quarter mile wide and forty-five feet deep. We knew we were entering channel when bay's warm waters became cold. Once on its edge, we looked both ways (like you would when crossing a street) and raced across gap as speed of ships seen on horizon is deceiving, particularly when viewed from water level. …