On our way home from the Southern Regional March in Atlanta Sunday, we swung down Mississippi's Hwy 90 through Gulfport, Long Beach, Pass Christian, Bay St. Louis, and Waveland.
Seven months post Katrina, the sights still shock.
Below is a photograph what's of left of the condomindium where we spent most Thanksgivings, Mardi Gras breaks and many, many weekends over the years in Pass Christian:
There where five three story buildings on this site last August.
You can see the ghost of the pool where our daughter learned to swim. The porch from which Annie and I enjoyed so many sunsets was where the dead palm tree now lays. This is what it used to look like:
Although we had many possessions there, like a stereo, CDs, books, kitchen stuff, etc., I could find nothing in the sand which showed that we had ever been there.
I didn't think I'd recover anything; I just wanted to find something left that somehow marked the presence of our lives in that once wonderful place. I can't imagine what it must be like when this happens to a place you called home for many years. The loss of all of the little souvenirs of a life well lived...
Like, for instance, my grandmother's home in Waveland, just across the Bay from the Pass:
And yet, she had insurance and a family with the resources to start a new life elsewhere almost immediately. She has been relatively lucky and is in a new home in another state. At the age of 94, she begins a new life. It is what it is.
So many have been left with nothing. No hope. No nothing.
It's Third World down here in America for the disenfranchised.
Just incredible....
For us, it's not the stuff. It's the safety and security and life of the place....gone....bitter sweet memories.
For so many less fortunate than we, it must be a total nightmare.