Cajun Navy

There have been hundreds of individuals who brought their boats to the Houston area to rescue folks stranded by Harvey.  The one group getting the most news coverage is the Cajun Navy, a bunch of Good Ol' Boys from South Louisiana who rescued literally hundreds of people in the past week.

I have a neighbor who was out doing rescues on his jet ski, and worked alongside one of the Cajun Navy crews. He couldn't say enough about the boat handling skills of the boat owner - or about the boat itself, a 20 ft skiff that's big fan was powered by a 454 chevy engine.  Shane came home saying "I'm gonna build me a boat!"

All those folks are getting for their efforts are thank yous, and I'd like to add mine.  I'm also re-posting an article that describes the situation very well:
Hundreds and hundreds of small boats pulled by countless pickups and SUVs from across the South are headed for Houston. Almost all of them driven by men. They're using their own property, sacrificing their own time, spending their own money, and risking their own lives for one reason: to help total strangers in desperate need.
Most of them are by themselves. Most are dressed like the redneck duck hunters and bass fisherman they are. Many are veterans. Most are wearing well-used gimme-hats, t-shirts, and jeans; and there's a preponderance of camo. Most are probably gun owners, and most probably voted for Trump.
These are the people the Left loves to hate, the ones Maddow mocks. The ones Maher and Olbermann just *know* they're so much better than.
These are The Quiet Ones. They don't wear masks and tear down statues. They don't, as a rule, march and demonstrate. And most have probably never been in a Whole Foods.
But they'll spend the next several days wading in cold, dirty water; dodging gators and water moccasins and fire ants; eating whatever meager rations are available; and sleeping wherever they can in dirty, damp clothes. Their reward is the tears and the hugs and the smiles from the terrified people they help. They'll deliver one boatload, and then go back for more.
When disaster strikes, it's what men do. Real men. Heroic men. American men. And then they'll knock back a few shots, or a few beers with like-minded men they've never met before, and talk about fish, or ten-point bucks, or the benefits of hollow-point ammo, or their F-150.
And the next time they hear someone talk about "the patriarchy", or "male privilege", they'll snort, turn off the TV and go to bed.
In the meantime, they'll likely be up again before dawn. To do it again. Until the helpless are rescued. And the work's done.
They're unlikely to be reimbursed. There won't be medals. They won't care. They're heroes. And it's what heroes do.