Journalism / Katrina Lost Memories
When Katrina came through my hometown of d’Iberville, Mississippi on August 29, 2005, I though all my childhood memories were lost forever.
D’Iberville is a little town on the north side of Biloxi Bay. The old section of town sits on the county line and shares an area of about 5 square miles with another community called St. Martin. Most homes in this area had stood for 75 years or more. I would go several times a year to visit family and friends, and then Katrina struck.
When I was 10 years old Hurricane Camille hit the Gulf Coast and destroyed the area. The worst of the destruction was on the coast itself and the outer islands lost several acres of land. Fortunately, most homes remained standing. Although we had about 3 feet of water in our home, we were able to remodel and move on. My dad had always said, “If we ever have another one like Camille, nothing will be left.” How right he was! Although Katrina had weakened while approaching the coast, she proved to be the most destructive storm to ever hit. The destruction was immeasurable.
As the storm moved out, my first concern was locating my family. I was visiting my daughter in Indiana at that time. Katrina continued her path of destruction northward and all the way up to where I was. The flooding was everywhere. On the way home, gas prices had jumped from $2.51 a gallon up to $3.41. I said to my son “This is ridiculous!” and that I hoped we had the money to make it home.
Once I finally made it back to Florida, I attempted to contact my family. I share a home with my sister and both of us were calling our family to find some news. No calls would go through. I was online looking for any information I could find on the fate of d’Iberville. We did not know if anyone had survived. Finally, pictures began pouring in from the area. At last I saw satellite photos of d’Iberville and the entire town looked like a war zone.
My brother Donny eventually was able to call us on his cell phone. His family had stayed at his daughter’s house in the northern part of the county. Thankfully, they were all unharmed. His home had sustained some damage to the roof; the roof, however, was repairable. Donny informed me that he had spoken with my brother Michael, and his family stayed at Michael’s work safe from the flooding waters. Donny told me that Michael’s house, which was our childhood home, had been destroyed. It had been moved from the foundation and could not be saved. Unfortunately, Donny had not yet been able to locate my sister Donna. I feared for the safety of my sister and I cried at the realization that all of the memories of my childhood were now gone.
Soon after, my nephew Eugene called and told me that his family was all safe. A tornado had destroyed my sister Charlotte’s house and heavily damaged his. Donny called again t o that say he had heard from my sister Donna Sue. Donna Sue’s daughter, Lacy and her husband had to swim to safety from their attic and their home was completely destroyed. Thank God, everyone survived.
My aunts’ homes were also destroyed. The satellite photo showed my Aunt Irene’s house looked like a big pile of splinters. I could not find anything left of my Aunt Rose’s house. These were all places I remember visiting on my trips home and playing there as a child. I remember my Aunt Irene’s home had statues all over. She was always creating something new with ceramics. My Aunt Rose’s house used to have huge oak trees in the yard. In fact, during Camille, my Uncle Tony and she survived by tying themselves to one of these trees. Now, everything was gone and I could not find any information on them. My Aunt Mildred lived about 3 blocks off of the beach in Biloxi. On the satellite photo, her house was still standing. That was unbelievable being so close to the beach. I was unable to contact my aunts.
My family told us to stay away for the time being as there was nothing we could do. I was so heartbroken. I spent so much of my time on the internet looking at pictures of the area that I became depressed. Continually, I would speak with my brother Michael and we would both cry for the loss of everything. I just couldn’t believe that all I knew and loved was gone forever.
With his roof and electricity repaired, my brother Donny was able to move back into his house, and we were able to go home to see the damage for ourselves. It had been almost three months since Katrina had hit. My sister Theresa and I made the drive home and it was the longest trip I have ever made. Anxiety and tension ate through us on the way with our stomach tied in knots.
As we crossed the Mississippi state line, we could see the trees and signs torn down along the interstate. Taking the Biloxi exit, heading toward the bay, on both sides of the interstate we saw only destruction from the wind and water. We took the exit into d’Iberville and by that time the city was in the process of a major clean up. We were passing vacant lot after vacant lot. All the places that I had hung out, places I had worked, homes of friends, all were all gone, just vacant lots. We reached our road and could see nearly all the way to the other end. There were only a few houses left standing, and it was virtually impossible even to recognize this street that I had grown up on.
The numbness and feelings of shock embraced me. Was anything left of all I had known? My cousin’s house on the corner was gone. Another cousin’s house also was gone. House after house, nothing was left.
We finally reached the home of my childhood. The only thing left standing was an old shed that my dad had built. The yard looked so small, it was nothing at all like I had remembered. Growing up, we had plenty of room to play. On one side of the house, there had been a swing set, and a garden, and even the trailer that my brother lived in. Yet still, there was enough room for us to all play kickball. On the other side of the house, we would play football and baseball. Now the yard looked half the size of the yard my memories held so dear. I still remember playing tag; running around the house seemed enormous! “My memories are gone” is the only thing I could think of.
We continued on. House after house, road after road, everything was gone. My cousins, my friends, all were now homeless. We drove to Lepoma Ave. This was the original homestead of my family. In recent times it had been sub-divided between my great uncles and many homes were eventually sold. Now, only one was left standing. I remember going to my Aunt Katie’s house every year for the St. Josephs Day Altar, a tradition that had been handed down in my family for generations. The day was always filled with pies, cakes, figs, and all kinds of goodies in honor of the patron saint of the land of my Lepoma heritage.
When we turned down the street my grandmother had lived on, I could not identify her property as we passed it. No longer was there fencing, or markers of any kind to indicate which property was hers. She’d had a huge lot also. My grandmother had a small one bedroom house; none cleaner than hers. Even when she was in her upper 80’s and could hardly breathe, she would put a chair in the middle of the floor ,everyday, sweep and mop around it and then move it to another spot,. This too was gone. The loss was so overwhelming to me. It seemed as if my childhood itself had disappeared, washed away by Katrina.
We had to get out of there; we wanted to see Biloxi before we headed to Donny’s house. As we headed down the coast, most houses had been simply swept away to sea. What was left was being torn down. Just imagine if you will, taking a drive down A1A from Atlantic Beach to Daytona Beach and there being nothing except maybe for a few condo’s. Think of how it would feel to see a building, taller than 3 stories, sitting on top of another. This was how the casino barge looked while sitting on top of a two story hotel. The barge had demolished the hotel. The sight was unbelievable. We stopped at the lighthouse and looked up. The Biloxi lighthouse stands 61 ft. in height and sits in the middle of highway 90. The lighthouse had been completely under water.
Heading to Aunt Mildred’s house, we turned off of the beach onto the road toward her house. Here, all the buildings were standing. We got to my aunt’s house and she was home. Miraculously, she did not have any water in her home when just 4 blocks away nothing is left standing. We believed it was because she is located up on a hill and the water just followed the path of least resistance. Mile after mile, homes and buildings are demolished. The hospital where I was born was even destroyed. Hotels I had stayed in no longer existed. The Mayor’s house, where I once attended cocktail party was destroyed.
We decided that we had seen enough and headed to my brother’s home. He lives about 20 miles inland and in the woods. When we got there, all we could talk about was the total destruction we had seen. I felt depressed and heartbroken, and will never forget that day.
My brother said to me, “Your memories will always be with you, even though the buildings are gone.” The realization that he was right hit me. Memories had returned that I had not thought of in years. They were not lost. I took it for granted that these places would always be there to remind me. I can still remember playing, on the docks by the bay, my Grandma’s house and how it looked and smelled, and so many things I have not thought of in years. Memories are always there, one just has to know where to look. I learned a valuable lesson. Live each day and create new memories; things can change in a heartbeat.
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This 164 word review has not been unlocked.
I believe, it’s a good piece, excellent journalism. And even although you make it too personal, telling the readers about the names, and other additional info about your family, it’s very sensible and sensitive, anyway. I mean, if I were an editor I would print it. It’s good, because it shows us the emotions of a people who lived there, was there, saw it! You’ve put enough effort and emotion in it. I liked it!
Good luck with your futures work!:D
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