Paula's Katrina, Pt. 2
I received an email from a woman who participated in one of my Seminars.
One of her dreams was to move south with her husband and buy a home. They did that and life was going great. She would send me emails from time to time telling me so. Then Katrina hit and it has changed her life. Her candor will grab you. Her courage will inspire.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005 - Survival 101
It’s 6:30am. I’m in line waiting to get a loaf of bread. It’s not Rwanda, it’s not Russia, it’s Mississippi, USA. Welcome to my reality. I’ve had no sleep, I look like a cross between death warmed over and something the cat dragged in, but I’m alive. It takes four hours, but I get the bread and other supplies. I write a check. Ora is able to get a grill. We get back to her house, and realize we have cell phone service. We check our voice mails. We have calls from San Diego to the Bronx, Detroit to Dallas. We return a few then have to turn off our phones because we cannot charge them. Note: Add a car charger to the list for tomorrow’s run. The news reports are still skipping over Waveland and Bay St. Louis like we don’t exist. They talk about New Orleans, and then go straight to Gulfport and Biloxi. Don’t they realize that Waveland and Bay St. Louis got the eye of Katrina and were hit FIRST!!!! I am sooooo frustrated! People just don’t get it. There are a dozen cities and towns that sustained damage BEFORE you even get to Gulfport! This storm went from one end of the Mississippi gulf coast to the other and from the coast to almost 200 miles INLAND! Where’s a TV reporter when you need one? It’s hot, I feel sick. I eat, I feel better.
Thursday, September 1, 2005 - Survival 101 continued
It’s 5:30am. This time the line is for Wal-Mart. I get a voicemail from one of my friends telling me to brace myself because he’s seen on CNN that Waveland was basically blown off the map. I am momentarily dismayed, but I’ve no time to dwell on it. When you stand in line for bread, water, and panties, your priorities become crystal clear. We’re allowed 2 loaves of bread, 2 bags of ice, and 2 cases of water. There is no limit on anything else. You wouldn’t think we were nearly 100 miles north of the gulf coast. I can’t even imagine what Biloxi looks like, and New Orleans? It only took three hours this time.
Ed and I make a few more calls, and the decision is made to go see about the house and Gulfside Assembly tomorrow.
Friday, September 2, 2005 - Back to Waveland ~ the moment of truth
It’s 4:30, I think. This time the line is for gas. Ed and Ora go. I’m too tired. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a week. Yet, after Ed and Ora leave, I shower in the dark and brush my teeth by flashlight. I sit in the dark at the front door watching the sun rise. In a little while, we’ll know if we still have a house. I spent part of the day yesterday doing a list for the insurance company. That nearly did me in because I kept thinking about all the things that cannot be replaced: my paternal grandmother’s pure silver flatware, the pearls my parents gave me for my 21st birthday, the afghans my maternal grandmother knitted, our wedding album, and on and on and on. I can’t take this.
Mrs. Martin has enough gas in her van to get down there and back. We have gas, but will need it for later. I keep trying to prepare myself for the worst. I’m trying to wrap my mind around seeing a slab and rubble where my home used to be, but it’s not working.
I just don’t feel like it’s gone. Not in my heart. We had gotten word that there were some homes still standing, but the destruction was so widespread. Even if it was standing, we’d lost everything inside, right? I started the trip with that in mind.
I don’t know what time we left. Time is suspended for me right now. After I see my home, I’ll be able to deal with it, or so I tell myself. A tense nearly two hour ride later, we get to Waveland. Katrina’s wrath is visible as soon as we enter Hancock county. Miles before we even get to Waveland, there are blown off roofs, and blown over trees. By the time we get to Kiln, Mississippi (childhood home of Green Bay Packers quarterback Brett Farve), we see caved in roofs, cars overturned in ditches, boats in trees and homes, trailers on top of cars, mud and silt all over the road. It’s unimaginable.
We get to the intersection of Waveland Avenue and Highway 90. There are buildings still standing, some severely damaged. Continuing down Waveland Avenue, we turn left on Rue de la Salle. As we turn, Ed asks me if my heart is beating hard yet. I look at him unsure whether to kiss him or strangle him. I do neither. Rue de la Salle turns into Hogan Street a few blocks down. The bull dozer is out clearing the road. Can we get past it? Can we get through? Yes.
I have almost resigned myself to being okay as long as I am able to get a brick from the rubble. I’ll be alright if I can just do that. I thought I was prepared for everything.
I wasn’t prepared to see . . . my home still standing!!!!! Oh. My. God.
There was not a shingle missing. Part of the back and side fences were gone, and the garage door was bent, but otherwise there was no exterior structural damage. Ed took the plywood off the front door. We tried to unlock it, but it had swelled shut. He noticed the water line and warned me that we had had at least four feet of water in the house. He said it would be muddy, and that it would smell (of salt and silt from the ocean). We would look for a few specific items and leave. We walked around to the deck, took the plywood off the back door, opened it with our key, and walked into our house.
There is no way for me to adequately describe what that moment was like. I am amazed at what we found. Although nearly all is gone, all is not lost. The water had moved my china cabinet a few feet, but the plug was still in the wall, and not one glass or plate was broken. The china coffee cups were on their sides in a row as if someone had gently placed them there. We found some of our important papers and jewelry. It’s a start. After a few minutes, we gather up some things and returned to the van.
Our trip was far from over, though. We still had to go to the coast. We had to see what it REALLY looked like. We had to see if what we’d heard was true: Gulfside Assembly was completely destroyed. My Foundations of Ministry II classmates know that I am talking about the conference/retreat center I wrote about for our ethics project. Located directly on the coast, the 60 acre center was called the “Mecca on the Gulf.” It is an historic landmark because it was one of the few places in Mississippi where black people could meet during the civil rights movement.
Before going to Gulfside, however, we drove around to check on various homes of people Marian knows, mainly employees of Gulfside. The destruction was everywhere. Eventually, we could put it off no longer. After weaving amongst downed trees, power lines, and wreckage, we headed down Coleman Avenue (downtown Waveland). We’d heard it had been totally destroyed, but you just can’t believe it until you see it. Places I know, places I was just getting used to. It’s all gone. There are no words. Between this and my beloved city and state of New Orleans, Louisiana, I am one divided soul. I am Louisiana born and bred. My heart is, was, and always will be in the South. It’s almost more than I can take. Almost. I’ve got work to do here. I’ve got a home to repair. I’ve got a degree to get. Somehow, this is related to my calling. I know it. My home wasn’t spared just so I could leave it. I’ve got a community, a city, and a state to rebuild. Like the old spiritual says, I “ain’t got time to die”.
Return to Part 1 of Paula's Katrina.
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