Camille was a Lady. Katrina was a Bitch.

The pictures you see throughout this post are of dead oak trees along the Mississippi Gulf Coast, turned into sculptures after their destruction.  A hurricane wiped out our coastline two years ago today.  It's reach was far and wide.  It's winds destroyed homes miles inland.  It's tornadoes destroyed neighborhoods miles inland.  Hours inland.  It's winds picked up the Gulf of Mexico and forced it into our homes.  Miles inland.  The Gulf of Mexico's waters found their way through our bayous, bays, and waterways.  Miles inland.

 

It wasn't just the fools on the beach like me that lost everything.

Bodies of the victims are still being found today.  Did you know that?

We lost our home.  We returned from evacuation to find a bare slab of concrete.  But we aren't victims.  We refuse to be victimized.

Yet we still mourn.  We mourn it all.

Unlike a house fire that destroys your home, unlike the attacks on 9/11 that killed so many and destroyed the livelihood of even more, the effects of Hurricane Katrina stretched for miles.  For hours worth of miles.  We lost our homes, our jobs, our cars, our churches, our schools, our hospitals, our libraries, our public transportation, our grocery stores, our parks, our roads and bridges connecting our communities, our government buildings,  our museums, our historical landmarks...  we lost so much that we called home.   There was nowhere to go to escape the destruction.  Everywhere you went, you were reminded of what was lost.  There was no escape.

Two years later, the depression and suicide rates are on the rise.  Did you know that?

Drive down the beach today and you still find mostly...  nothing. 

Bare slabs of concrete.  Half demolished plantation homes.  Hollowed out stores.  Hollowed out churches.  Fields of FEMA trailers full of sick families, choking on formaldehyde fumes, forced to remain because there is no affordable housing and they are still paying a mortgage on a slab of concrete.

People ask me all the time, "So, is everything getting back to normal down there?"  Simply, yes.  Simply, no.  We are working on rebuilding, but not the lives that we once shared.  We are rebuilding a very different Gulf Coast.  I think it will be for the better.  I think we will find a multitude of blessings, if we just open our hearts and our minds to recognize them.

I'm holding one in my arms right now.  Had I been home and organized, I never would have had Goose.  Yep, I have a hurricane baby.   

The Mississippi Gulf Coast will be better than ever.  Give it five years and see.  It will be amazing.  So much is already changing.  So many fabulous things are coming in, moving in, being built.  It will be beautiful.  It will be new.  It will be charming and inviting.

And there will be nothing stopping it from being wiped out all over again.

There will be nothing stopping a massive wall of water and mile wide winds that last for hours from just wiping it clean off the map.  Again.

You decide to take a risk.  We decided to take a risk by moving to the beach.  We had just moved from New Orleans a couple of months before and thought a beach home would be fun while we decided where to lay our roots.  And it was fun.  For a minute. 

We will probably never return to the beach.  Nowhere near waters that can rise up and claim our home.  We will not risk it again.  It's too difficult, no matter how beautiful.

In case you were wondering, we did have insurance.  In fact, we had "hurricane insurance."  Unfortunately, I failed to realize that so-called hurricane insurance doesn't pay squat if, say, it rains during the hurricane.  All your stuff blown up into a tree?  "Well, it's wet, too, so we can't figure out what did the damage, ma'am.  Sorry.  No money for you."  Or, in our case, "Hey, where is your stuff?  All we see is a slab of concrete.  How are we supposed to know if you had any wind?  No money for you.  Now scram!  And stop calling us."

By the way, hurricanes are defined by their wind velocity.  It was called Hurricane Katrina.  Not Rainy Flood Katrina.  But whatever.  Oh, and yeah, that's some of our stuff up in that tree above the water line.  Guess some of those trained dolphins from the oceanarium must have kicked it up there with their flukes when they were washed into the Gulf.  No way we had wind.

But I digress.

We choose to remain here on the Gulf Coast.  Living anywhere near a coastline is a risk.  Yes, even those hotsy totsy New York City dwellers.  Nothing keeping them from being wiped out by Hurricane Vinnie.  And, no, there is nothing keeping Hurricane Boudreaux from wiping out New Orleans again, regardless of how high they build their levees.  No matter what they do to change their government.  No matter how many times Brad Pitt smiles in the 9th Ward.

But I bet you've heard enough about New Orleans today.

So, if you would, do me a favor.  When anyone talks to you today about New Orleans, remind them that we are still here in Mississippi.  In fact, there are still some crazy folk over in Alabama along the coastline, too.  A hurricane wiped us out two years ago today and we are still here.  It wasn't our local government's fault, we don't have a crazy mayor to point fingers at, so it's not as interesting to talk about for the media, but it still happened.  A mighty wind done blew us down.  Took us out to sea.  Left us with nothing...

Except our manners.  Our pride.  Our determination.  Our anger.  Our spirit.  Our sadness.  Our charity.  Our gratefulness.  Our elbow grease.  And, yes, our hope.

So we make do with what we have.  We turn the dead forms of majestic oaks along the beach into beautiful sculptures and we do it with chainsaws.  Testaments to our determination and faith and hope.  Testaments to our ferocity and livid persistence.  We spit in the placid blue eye of Mother Nature.  We dare her to rear her powerful head again.  We take chainsaws to the scraps she leaves us with and we tell her to bring it on.  We're not leaving.  We'll take the risk and we'll rebuild again if we have to, and we'll do it ourselves.

In Mississippi, we pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and we forge ahead.  Let 'em talk about New Orleans  and their politics all day long.  We have work to do over here.  Stop your jabbering and pick up a shovel and a hammer.  It will be a long day, but it will feel good to sweat it out.  When we're done, the crawfish and beer are on me.

Pinch the tail and suck out the head.  There's a hurricane party every time it blows!

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

All governmental assistance politics aside, it is important for me to mention that the American Red Cross was an incredible help after Hurricane Katrina.  They drove around our neighborhoods providing hot meals to workers, volunteers, and weary young families that just didn't feel like eating another sandwich in the dark.   Seeing the Red Cross truck drive down our road was always a welcome sight.

We put aside our pride and accepted help from the Red Cross in the days after Katrina and now make it a priority to begin paying them back.   If you are looking for a solid organization to which you can donate, I highly recommend the American Red Cross.  I saw first-hand how they use the funds we donate and it was astonishingly refreshing. 

They didn't fix everything; they made it easier for us to survive while we fixed it ourselves.

Want to do more yourself?  Want to come visit me down here?  Check out the relief organization Hands On Gulf Coast.

*By the way, "Camille was a Lady" is a reference to Hurricane Camille in 1969.  The worst hurricane to destroy the Gulf Coast, before Hurricane Katrina.  While a more powerful storm than Katrina, it's duration was shorter and it's reach was not nearly as wide.  The size and duration of Katrina is what made her the worst natural disaster in the history of the United States.  Camille slipped in, tore up the place, and slipped out.  Katrina stuck around awhile, called us names and insulted our mammas.

Comments

[Jennifer]

I've thought about you today, Megan. You and your family and everyone else who lost homes, jobs...

Great post. It's important to remember that people are STILL suffering as a result of Katrina. That Bitch.

I'm off to read OTJ now...

[Jackie]

I have goosebumps. Very powerful post. I am thinking of you today and all those affected by the Bitch.
The Red Cross is one of my favorite charities and I try to donate to them at least a couple times a year so I am glad to hear that they are really helping to make a difference.

[sam]

Amazing. Absolutely Amazing post Megan.

I hate that Bitch for what she's done to you and your neighbours.

[Nell]

Thank you for posting this, Megan. I can only imagine the range and depth of feeling that you must experience every time you think/write about your experiences with Katrina. Your writing is always so eloquent. And for those of us who live far from the coast, it is good to be reminded of what happened to you and everyone who was personally affected by Katrina.

[Cakehead]

Oh wow, another wonderfully written post that obviously came from your heart.

Do you know that I have the job I do because my office picked up and moved from Biloxi after Katrina? I am going to make sure the people who moved here from Biloxi read this.

[Amy]

Megan:
I'm so very sorry for your loss. This is an amazing post. The sculptures carved from the trees are beautiful and a testament to the strength and spirit of the people. My ongoing prayers are with you and all those affected.

[andi]

What a beautifully written, post Megan. Your strength after this terrible event never ceases to amaze me.

[Genevieve]

The photo of the tree is amazing. Devastation carved into beauty and celebrating new life even with tragic loss.

This is a wonderful post -- I'm so glad I found your blog.

[Shauna]

Megan:
You are an amazing writer, woman, mother, person. It is important to be reminded of the difficult times, but also to hang on to your hope.
Thank you for sharing.

[Valerie]

What a powerful post. Thank you for reminding people that Katrina did not just hit New Orleans.

[Valerie]

What a powerful post. Thank you for reminding people that Katrina did not just hit New Orleans.

[Corey]

Thank you for sharing that post. It was a good read. It was a good reminder that so many of us need, including myself.

[Annie]

I thought about you often today, several times as I sat in a hospital room with Baby J as he went through his tests. As I mentioned earlier - Gulfport was the first place I saw on the news this morning - but all I saw on the tv in the hospital was New Orleans - how sickening that must be for all the other areas affected.

Great post, full of the fortitude I know you for from the very first day I 'met' you.

I love the sculptures - and hope they stand the test of time and storms to come as a symbol of the strength of you, your family and all the families affected.

[feener]

This is an important post. I can say that it doesn't sink in how bad it was/is for you folks. I hope you realize you are opening others eyes.

[PunditMom]

This is a wonderful and very important post. It amazes me that we are still trying to figure out how to help your area and why our government is so lame and weak. Not even that cute Anderson Cooper has been able to succeed in getting the real attention your area needs. I love our country but sometimes we suck.

[Jennie]

Thanks for the post, Megan. It is so important that we don't forget how many people were affected by that monster- and how many chances there are for hope after horror.

[Jennie]

Thanks for the post, Megan. It is so important that we don't forget how many people were affected by that monster- and how many chances there are for hope after horror.

[Jennie]

Thanks for the post, Megan. It is so important that we don't forget how many people were affected by that monster- and how many chances there are for hope after horror.

[Megan]

I sincerely appreciate all of your lovely and thoughtful comments. It's late here and I'm just wrapping up a few things for my guest bloggers, but wanted to thank you all for your support and your kind words. Thank you for listening to me, when honestly, who wants to hear about Katrina?

I didn't even turn on the TV today. I listened to talk radio this morning while in the car and it was just too much. All talk about New Orleans politics and not one mention of the Gulf Coast. I totally understand why (I mean, I just lived in New Orleans, too, but it's tough to (not) hear mention of MS while I'm literally driving along the beach through the destruction. Driving past our slab and feeling like it's invisible to the outside world.

Such a mess.

So I write about it to ya'll. And I hope that you will remember us for just a second today. And I believe that you will and have. Thank you.

[Rachel]

What a beautiful, moving post. I have seen a few news reports about the Gulf Coast, but you are right that coverage has been dominated by news about New Orleans. And not just New Orleans, but the Lower 9th specifically.

You know, I find it depressing to see the devastation when I visit. I can't imagine living there and seeing it every day and at the same time trying to put your life together. I admire you. Thanks for writing this and keeping Katrina on the agenda.

[Honeybell]

Lovely. I've linked to this post because never has such an important subject been so beautifully written. Thanks.

[Catherine]

Wonderfully articulated.

I've driven the Gulf Coast a handful of times. In-laws live outside Mobile so we would either fly into NO and drive or fly into Pensacola and drive. I always preferred NO. And we would drive along the coast, not I-10. I loved that drive.

My husband went to music camp in Pass Christian every year as a child. His brother drove through 6 months after Katrina and said the school was still standing. Little around it was, but the school survived. It survived Camille too.

[Catherine]

Wonderfully articulated.

I've driven the Gulf Coast a handful of times. In-laws live outside Mobile so we would either fly into NO and drive or fly into Pensacola and drive. I always preferred NO. And we would drive along the coast, not I-10. I loved that drive.

My husband went to music camp in Pass Christian every year as a child. His brother drove through 6 months after Katrina and said the school was still standing. Little around it was, but the school survived. It survived Camille too.

[Mike]

Beautiful blog, great post...I saw the devastation from Hurricane Hugo but know it was nothing like Katrina. I have been to Pensacola beach since the hurricanes there 3 years ago and they are still pretty much rebuilding also. I had never been to Biloxi before this year, but looked like it was being rebuilt nicely. Will take time to heal. In Charleston there were roofs laying in the tide waters years after Hugo. I truely feel your pain, even though it didn't happen to me, it's enough to make a grown man cry.

[Cate]

Oh Megan, once again you've opened my eyes to what so many had to endure. Since we don't see much in the media about the current state of the post-Katrina area, it's amazing how much we don't see of the struggle that is still going on down there.

I have seen regular updates of the devastation, and the ongoing clean up and restoration on the Ellen DeGeneres show. My tears have flowed during these segments, and I am so glad that she is trying to raise awareness.

I am sorry that you and your family had to live through that...the important thing is that you lived through it. I know the mourning will continue, but the fact that you can count your blessings is amazing. You have such a strong spirit.

[Sarah]

I think it is silly to look at it in terms of my state did this and your state got that. It's the U.S. Gulf Coast as a WHOLE.
The editorial below sees it in a differnt light, obviously from Louisiana's side. Everyone wants equall treatment by the Federal Goverment. This is about the UNITED States of America. Emphasis on the United part of our country's name.

EDITORIAL: Treat us fairly, Mr. President
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Nobody wants to have to compete for disaster relief.

But that is what Louisianians have had to do in the two years since Hurricane Katrina struck.

Despite massive destruction caused by the failure of the federal government's levees during Katrina, despite the torment caused by FEMA's slow response to the disaster, despite being hit by a second powerful hurricane less than a month later, Louisiana has had to plead to be treated fairly by our leaders in Washington.

President Bush and Congress have sent us billions in aid -- from $10.4 billion in grants for housing and infrastructure to $95 million for higher education to $168 million in business tax credits.

This community is grateful for the help. But Louisiana's losses were dramatically higher than any other state's and thus deserving of greater compensation. In reality, Mississippi has gotten a larger share of federal aid.

Donald Powell, the president's point man for recovery, downplayed the comparisons with Mississippi. "Tell me exactly what you need, and I'm happy to sit down and listen," he said. "But the evidence has to be based upon the need, not a comparison."

That is easily done. Our needs are real and quantifiable.

Louisiana had three times more damaged homes and seven times more severely damaged homes than Mississippi. Universities in this state had three times as many students displaced and had four times the losses of Mississippi's campuses. Louisiana fisheries suffered almost 75 percent of the damage done by Katrina, and our hospitals lost 97 percent of the hospital beds closed by the storm.

Yet in every case, Mississippi ended up with a disproportionate share of aid. Housing grants, for instance: Mississippi got $5.5 billion in Community Development Block Grant money for its 61,000 damaged homes. Louisiana, with 204,000 damaged homes, got $10.4 billion. If the aid were given out proportionately, this state would have gotten twice that much.

We hope that President Bush and Congress remember that imbalance when they consider Louisiana's request for $4 billion to keep the Road Home Program in the black.

Our neighbors on the Gulf Coast were hit hard by Katrina, no doubt about it. And Mississippians needed the help of the federal government to rebuild and recover. No one who has suffered from devastation would argue otherwise.

All Louisiana wants is to be treated fairly. But that hasn't happened.

Some people point to the clout of Mississippi's congressional delegation as the reason. Others say that Louisiana's reputation for political chicanery has hurt us.

Frankly, neither should be an issue. The people of Louisiana are no less deserving of disaster aid because their representatives are newer to Congress or because some of the people we trusted to lead us turned out to be scoundrels.

As President Bush returns today to mark the second anniversary of Katrina, this is what Louisianians need him to remember:

We are Americans who have suffered a great tragedy. We have worked tirelessly for two years to revive this beloved place and reconstruct our lives. And we ought to get no less help from our government than any other victims of this disaster.

(By the way, I was born and raised in Mississippi. We are all hurt by Katrina.)

[Annette]

Powerful and moving. Thanks for reminding those of us who weren't there that in so many ways it's not over. The strength of the people still standing is inspiring.

[Heather]

Oh wow. This is so powerful. And the spirit of picking yourselves up and putting it all back together - that is truly inspiring. Thank you for giving me some perspective!

[poopie]

Keep the faith ^j^

[Liz]

This is so touching. Anderson Cooper and Oprah both did specials to mark the 2 year anniversary. It's appalling what our insurance companies will do to make a buck. If I were an insurance company, I would take out full page ads saying: To hell with the contract fine print. We're honoring all the claims from victims of Hurricane Katrina.

Wish there were some way to hold the insurance companies accountable.

[southernfriedgirl]

Hey there - found your blog. I live in south Louisiana, outside of New Orleans. I am pretty horrified by how the media seems to have just sorta forgotten you all over there. You, once in a blue moon, hear about Waveland, sometimes Biloxi - NEVER Bama. It's like MS and AL were not even really in the picture. Just poor poor New Orleans.

GIVE ME A BREAK. I live here and I am tired of hearing it myself. I truly detest the "city" as a whole. (I live in a 'burb so I really try to avoid Orleans Parish in its entirety) I would move in a hot minute if I could but I can't. Hubs job is here and he is not keen on moving. Sigh.

I wish you the best and I hope two years later finds you better and in a good place. My hope is that people don't continue to neglect your area even though I may be hoping in vain.