Awauphi
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The South Will Rise Again~Page 1
THE SOUTH WILL RISE AGAIN
by Lynn Purcell Durham
For seven long and lonely hours I watched and listened as the
wrath of Mother Nature wreaked havoc on the Southern Mississippi Gulf
Coast.
Hour after hour, hearing the continuous sound of the wind
blowing and whipping non-stop at unimaginable speeds as the mighty
oak trees snapped like twigs. Each massive, broken limb sounding
like a random gunshot and then hearing the loud sucking sound the
trunks made as they fell only to be left suspended in the air with
car size craters underneath.
The massive but shallow rooted pines fell first, sounding like
cannons as they landed on and caved in many neighbor¹s roofs,
smashing cars and RV¹s and tearing down power lines that whipped and
sparked like a Fourth of July fireworks show.
The rain blew so hard that it sounded like a hail storm hitting
the house. The constant noise stretched nerves to their breaking
point.
It's as if God¹s wrath was wreaked on our Mississippi Coast in
all His fury *- frightening and glorious, intimidating and
exhilarating -- all at the same time. The nearest thing that I can
compare it to would be the Book of Revelations in the Bible when
fire, wind, rain and pestilence would rain down from the heavens.
Here on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi, it did.
I held on to a porch pillar and watched all hell breaking loose
around me. Would our house stand? Would the roof hold? Would the
trees continue to miss us? Would we survive?
The shingles were ripped from my neighbor¹s house and became
lethal weapons sailing through the air at 150 mph. My
grandchildren¹s swing set was twisted and broken like silly putty in
a child¹s hands. Lawn mowers sailed weightlessly through the air
like Frisbees. Yard sheds were picked up intact and blown blocks
down the street, before collapsing into rubble.
Roofs were plucked from their buildings, many landing intact
several streets over from where they belonged. A child¹s tricycle
was carried in the air on the wind, its wheels spinning furiously as
if it was being ridden by a ghost child *- so eerie to watch. I
prayed that its owner was unharmed.
Finally, there was silence. It was as deafening in a way, as
the rage of the storm. I watched as the Gulfshore water rose up our
street, covering cars and houses halfway to their roofs.
Our house was the last one to get water inside and again, we
were lucky. It only got ankle deep and it receded back down almost
as fast as it came. We stacked our furniture as fast as we could and
lost nothing. I watched the water rise halfway up the doors of my
son¹s 1986 Cadillac destroying what he'd been so carefully restoring.
My car was on slightly higher ground and the water only got to the
top of my wheels. Salt water fish were jumping in the air as the
water flowed inland. Ice chests, furniture, toys, clothing, dead
animals and so much more floated by, left to litter the yards and
streets as the water receded.
* * *
August 29, 2005 *- the day the Gulf Coast was changed forever,
is a day of infamy that will never be forgotten by any of us that
went through it.
The hurricane is over and we have survived unharmed.
So many others were not as lucky.
It will be months before a death count will be completed and it
will only be an approximate count because many were washed out to
sea. Lives were lost and new lives were started when young moms gave
birth during the storm, many under horrible unsanitary conditions.
One baby was born on a rooftop in the raging storm.
You¹ve all seen the pictures of destruction on all the news
channels. But what you can¹t see or imagine watching television is
the smell of rotting food, sewage, and the terrible odor of death
that is in the air.
You can tell who stayed behind to ride out the storm by looking
in people's eyes. The ones who stayed have blank stares with no
emotion. These are the people who lost everything and are still so
overwhelmed that their minds have literally shut down.
So many tales of courage will never be told because the
reporters miss the smaller picture as they concentrate on the larger
overall stories.
For example, my friend¹s grandparents who are age 90, were from
Gulf Hills -- a neighborhood of fine homes that were completely
flooded by the 26 foot storm surge. He is a victim of Alzheimers
disease and she a tiny woman, who by some miracle, was able to get
him to swim with her to the safety of their neighbor¹s roof. He
hasn't spoken since the storm and he refuses to leave. So she camps
with him in a tent, eating the military rations and meals that the
family brings daily. Her love and loyalty to her lifetime mate
survives their tragedy. She tells her daughter to leave them be,
because he is quiet there as long as no one tries to force him to
leave. I fear their time left is short but they are together and
that's all that matters to her.
A 7 year old child was found five days after the storm -- in an
attic, alive with her dog, with only scratches and dehydration to
show for her ordeal. However, no one knows anything about her
parents who put her in the attic and told her to stay there. Her
mental and emotional scars will run deep.
A man swam back for his dog, after swimming his family to
safety, because his children were hysterical over their pet. He
managed to swim back to his family with the dog paddling in his arms
and both were safe. When asked why he went back he says the dog was
a part of his family and he intended to save ALL of his family.
Another friend lived in a mobile home and spent hours on his
knees, praying to God, as his home's tie downs came loose and his
home floated for miles before finally coming to gently rest against
someone's porch pillar. His mobile home was undamaged.
Many churches were destroyed except for the crosses and statues
of Mary and the baby, Jesus. They still stand unharmed.
I¹ve seen three houses in a row numerous times with only the
middle home destroyed and the other two untouched. I cannot
understand how that happened over and over again. Down on our back
beach, where so many mansions are flattened or left to stand as empty
shells, a modest bungalow stands completely intact. Because those
mansions stood relatively unharmed through Camille, many chose to
stay, never realizing that a 26 foot storm surge would come with this
hurricane.
One of the survivors stated, "Camille was a lady, Katrina was a
real bitch." All that is left of many of the homes are the ornate
wrought iron stairways leading to no where. An elderly man was found
near the top of a Magnolia tree where he clung to life during the
seven hours of hell. His wife has yet to be found. He said he held
on to her as long as he could but the storm took her.
Continue... to page 2..
THE SOUTH WILL RISE AGAIN
by Lynn Purcell Durham
For seven long and lonely hours I watched and listened as the
wrath of Mother Nature wreaked havoc on the Southern Mississippi Gulf
Coast.
Hour after hour, hearing the continuous sound of the wind
blowing and whipping non-stop at unimaginable speeds as the mighty
oak trees snapped like twigs. Each massive, broken limb sounding
like a random gunshot and then hearing the loud sucking sound the
trunks made as they fell only to be left suspended in the air with
car size craters underneath.
The massive but shallow rooted pines fell first, sounding like
cannons as they landed on and caved in many neighbor¹s roofs,
smashing cars and RV¹s and tearing down power lines that whipped and
sparked like a Fourth of July fireworks show.
The rain blew so hard that it sounded like a hail storm hitting
the house. The constant noise stretched nerves to their breaking
point.
It's as if God¹s wrath was wreaked on our Mississippi Coast in
all His fury *- frightening and glorious, intimidating and
exhilarating -- all at the same time. The nearest thing that I can
compare it to would be the Book of Revelations in the Bible when
fire, wind, rain and pestilence would rain down from the heavens.
Here on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi, it did.
I held on to a porch pillar and watched all hell breaking loose
around me. Would our house stand? Would the roof hold? Would the
trees continue to miss us? Would we survive?
The shingles were ripped from my neighbor¹s house and became
lethal weapons sailing through the air at 150 mph. My
grandchildren¹s swing set was twisted and broken like silly putty in
a child¹s hands. Lawn mowers sailed weightlessly through the air
like Frisbees. Yard sheds were picked up intact and blown blocks
down the street, before collapsing into rubble.
Roofs were plucked from their buildings, many landing intact
several streets over from where they belonged. A child¹s tricycle
was carried in the air on the wind, its wheels spinning furiously as
if it was being ridden by a ghost child *- so eerie to watch. I
prayed that its owner was unharmed.
Finally, there was silence. It was as deafening in a way, as
the rage of the storm. I watched as the Gulfshore water rose up our
street, covering cars and houses halfway to their roofs.
Our house was the last one to get water inside and again, we
were lucky. It only got ankle deep and it receded back down almost
as fast as it came. We stacked our furniture as fast as we could and
lost nothing. I watched the water rise halfway up the doors of my
son¹s 1986 Cadillac destroying what he'd been so carefully restoring.
My car was on slightly higher ground and the water only got to the
top of my wheels. Salt water fish were jumping in the air as the
water flowed inland. Ice chests, furniture, toys, clothing, dead
animals and so much more floated by, left to litter the yards and
streets as the water receded.
* * *
August 29, 2005 *- the day the Gulf Coast was changed forever,
is a day of infamy that will never be forgotten by any of us that
went through it.
The hurricane is over and we have survived unharmed.
So many others were not as lucky.
It will be months before a death count will be completed and it
will only be an approximate count because many were washed out to
sea. Lives were lost and new lives were started when young moms gave
birth during the storm, many under horrible unsanitary conditions.
One baby was born on a rooftop in the raging storm.
You¹ve all seen the pictures of destruction on all the news
channels. But what you can¹t see or imagine watching television is
the smell of rotting food, sewage, and the terrible odor of death
that is in the air.
You can tell who stayed behind to ride out the storm by looking
in people's eyes. The ones who stayed have blank stares with no
emotion. These are the people who lost everything and are still so
overwhelmed that their minds have literally shut down.
So many tales of courage will never be told because the
reporters miss the smaller picture as they concentrate on the larger
overall stories.
For example, my friend¹s grandparents who are age 90, were from
Gulf Hills -- a neighborhood of fine homes that were completely
flooded by the 26 foot storm surge. He is a victim of Alzheimers
disease and she a tiny woman, who by some miracle, was able to get
him to swim with her to the safety of their neighbor¹s roof. He
hasn't spoken since the storm and he refuses to leave. So she camps
with him in a tent, eating the military rations and meals that the
family brings daily. Her love and loyalty to her lifetime mate
survives their tragedy. She tells her daughter to leave them be,
because he is quiet there as long as no one tries to force him to
leave. I fear their time left is short but they are together and
that's all that matters to her.
A 7 year old child was found five days after the storm -- in an
attic, alive with her dog, with only scratches and dehydration to
show for her ordeal. However, no one knows anything about her
parents who put her in the attic and told her to stay there. Her
mental and emotional scars will run deep.
A man swam back for his dog, after swimming his family to
safety, because his children were hysterical over their pet. He
managed to swim back to his family with the dog paddling in his arms
and both were safe. When asked why he went back he says the dog was
a part of his family and he intended to save ALL of his family.
Another friend lived in a mobile home and spent hours on his
knees, praying to God, as his home's tie downs came loose and his
home floated for miles before finally coming to gently rest against
someone's porch pillar. His mobile home was undamaged.
Many churches were destroyed except for the crosses and statues
of Mary and the baby, Jesus. They still stand unharmed.
I¹ve seen three houses in a row numerous times with only the
middle home destroyed and the other two untouched. I cannot
understand how that happened over and over again. Down on our back
beach, where so many mansions are flattened or left to stand as empty
shells, a modest bungalow stands completely intact. Because those
mansions stood relatively unharmed through Camille, many chose to
stay, never realizing that a 26 foot storm surge would come with this
hurricane.
One of the survivors stated, "Camille was a lady, Katrina was a
real bitch." All that is left of many of the homes are the ornate
wrought iron stairways leading to no where. An elderly man was found
near the top of a Magnolia tree where he clung to life during the
seven hours of hell. His wife has yet to be found. He said he held
on to her as long as he could but the storm took her.
Continue... to page 2..
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