Lynn Purcell Durham: The Times of Our Lives: August 29, 2005 ... Mississippi Rising

BLOG NOTE: Our friend Lynn Purcell Durham wrote this moving account of the things she and her family and the people of Mississippi experienced during and in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. We thank her for sharing her story with us. Lynn presently lives in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

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 neighbor's roofs, smashing cars and RV's 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 God's 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 grandchildren's swing set was twisted and broken like silly putty in a child's 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 child's 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 son's 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.

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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.

You've all seen the pictures of destruction on all the news channels. But what you can't 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 friend's 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 neighbor's 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. I've 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.

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I drove around yesterday and am amazed at the difference a week makes. The streets are cleared of debris, bulldozed to the curbs waiting for pickup and the clean up is well underway. Some areas are condemned due to disease hazards from the dead bodies, rotting fish, pork and chicken that came from broken storage containers on the docks. But the authorities are letting people salvage what few possessions they can before bulldozing everything to the ground. Cholera and typhoid are a real and present danger. So are the presence of poisonous snakes and alligators that have washed inland. Triage tent hospitals and clinics are set up in vacant parking lots. People are directed to various tents according to their ills and injuries. Emergency surgery is being done there daily. One man had the stitches removed from his stomach from a cancer surgery he'd had before Katrina. Everyone is encouraged to get tetanus shots. These triages are being run by volunteer physicians that have come from all over the states bringing their own supplies, surgical instruments, medicines, etc. They, too, are unsung heroes.

Driving through the mass destruction in the family neighborhoods, we saw signs of humor that survive undaunted. A hand painted sign points towards the beach saying "waterfront property for sale." Another says, "You got my home but I'm still standing." Another says, "You destroyed my home but not my spirit." Yes, we've had some looters out plying their trade. One hundred have been arrested and will serve fifteen years each for their crimes. Of all things to steal in these circumstances, electronic equipment, digital TVs and computers, seem to be high on their lists of priorities. These things were covered by the flood water. They will never work again so I'm baffled at the stupidity in stealing them. I understand people taking what groceries they can find to survive, but the other is just "stuff" that won't operate. It makes you wonder at the mentality of these lowlifes.

Pets are displaced, injured and lost, starving on a daily basis and only now are some of the shelters opening to try to reunite them with their owners or to get them adopted. I've fed and shared our water with all the strays that have come to my yard because I cannot bear to see them suffer so. The veterinarians are swamped with dying animals that drank the water and ate contaminated food. Injuries abound from broken limbs to massive cuts. I do what I can to help them, and my vet takes all with no questions asked. He treats their injuries and will house them in his kennels free of charge until homes are found. These men and women are more of the unsung heroes.

Neighbors that never met before are now fast friends and we all share all that we have. I make a daily run to the Ocean Springs Middle School and drive through the National Guard line with my trunk up. They ask how many people I'm supplying and then put in cases of bottled water, cases of military rations and last, but not least, sixty pound bags of ice. I bring it all home and distribute it to others in the neighborhood that lost their vehicles and have no way to get supplies. Out of state family members have loaded trucks with supplies and brought them to my neighbors and they share with the rest of us. Today, my next door neighbor brought me tomatoes, sliced cheese, a bag of chocolate cookies, and apples. Things that we've always taken for granted have now become luxuries to us. We all say, "Thank you God" a dozen times a day for the little things that come our way.

I slept on my driveway for five nights and was just as comfortable as if I was in my bed. I was asked if I wasn't afraid of looters and had to laugh. My dog, Sister, slept at my head and protected me. Looters don't go where there are barking dogs, especially big barking dogs. I got up with the sunrise and went to bed at sunset totally exhausted. If my bed was hard, I never noticed. It has taken a week to get all the debris and huge limbs cleaned up and to the curb. We have an 8 foot high pile of debris that runs completely across our front property line. We also had to pull up all of the wet stinking carpet and pad and drag it to the curb, then sweep out the water left in the house. We had to mop over and over with Clorox and finally got the smell out by mopping with pure vinegar. It was a mess, but again, we were lucky -­ we had a house to clean. Thousands do not.

I cooked on our grill every evening. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were our breakfast and lunch. Because I've been through several hurricanes before, we were well prepared with ample water and supplies. Both freezers were packed tight with ice so we were able to cook and eat most of the meat. I had loaded two large ice chests in advance so our spoilage was minimal and had stored 12 gallons of water so we had enough to share with friends and the neighbors until emergency supplies arrived. I have power now and with that came air-conditioning, a blessed relief from the heat and humidity. You can call in on our phone, but we can't call out. The water is not drinkable but we can flush our toilets and if we pour bleach in a tub of water and let it stand for thirty minutes we can actually have a bath. If we shower we are warned to rinse completely with bleach water because of the flesh eating diseases that flourish in these conditions.

I've been telling my son how lucky we were and he was griping because he lost his car and his job. The Magic Casino where he worked was destroyed and will have to be rebuilt. He went with some friends to our back bay to help salvage what they could from his friend's destroyed home. The house was two blocks from the Gulf and normally you couldn't see the water from there because of the many oaks and pine trees. When Corey came home he was gray and I could see the stress in his face and eyes. He said, "You were right, Mom, we are lucky." He told me that you could now see the Gulf from his friend's house and that it was filled with floaters. I asked what floaters were and was told that it was dead bodies. That has put scars on his soul that will never heal.

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I have not been able to cry in front of anyone, but often when I'm in my car alone, the tears come out of nowhere. Not for myself, but for the devastation of so many others. The day after the hurricane, I was driving alone and was about to break down. An SUV turned in front of me and printed on its wheel cover were three words. LIFE IS GOOD. You bet it is! I was able to burst into laughter instead of tears. Another "Thank you God" moment. People are already planning to rebuild -­ bigger, better, stronger. Some plan to leave here and never look back, but the majority plan to stay. Mississippi is filled with courageous people that refuse to be whipped by man or nature. They are a tough bunch -- proud and too stubborn and obstinate to lay down and quit. They truly believe that whatever doesn't kill you will make you stronger. MISSISSIPPI IS RISING in all her glory! She's already started, and for now, my family has chosen to be a part of it.

Lynn Purcell Durham at Purcell Castle, County Tipperary, Ireland
... on vacation with Jennifer and Yahn, June 2003