Gulf-blood
My favorite thing to do in Biloxi was ride down 90 with my nose pressed against the glass, sighing over the old homes and the massive live oaks. Now I'm afraid the place will never look the same again.
Hurricane Camille is legend around here and mentioned often, always the benchmark for comparison. I figured if these old houses made it through Camille, they'd make it through Katrina. But the news reports say 90 percent of Biloxi and the other coastal towns - many even more picturesque - are destroyed.
The Gulf Coast is like part of the family to me. My father's side of the family moved to Mobile County in the 1830s, only a decade after Alabama became a state. Dad was raised outside Mobile, and I have relatives still living there and in Orange Beach. My parents bought the little house on the bay in Biloxi because the gulf is in Dad's blood. You should see him come alive when he gets near there, when he talks about seafood and Mardi Gras.
Dad passed on some gulf-blood to me. I've always loved driving into Mobile and smelling that weird paper-mill odor in the air, and I feel a little shiver when I pass near Citronelle, where my ancestors are buried. Though I've never lived on the coast (we're about three hours north), going there always feels like going home.
I've been watching the hurricane coverage almost non-stop, always waiting for more footage of the places I know, trying to recognize something in all the destruction. Searching for clues to the fate of my parents' little piece of the coast, their little house 10 feet above sea level. One guy from the back bay said his house only flooded a few feet; another said his house was swept away. It's still a great big question mark.
I am grateful because my family is safe. We still have homes to live in and jobs to go to. Electricity, water, air conditioning. We still have our family photos and mementos, if not the furniture and the new riding lawn mower and the curtains Mom made.
But still I hurt because the coast hurts. It's that gulf-blood that does it.
Hurricane Camille is legend around here and mentioned often, always the benchmark for comparison. I figured if these old houses made it through Camille, they'd make it through Katrina. But the news reports say 90 percent of Biloxi and the other coastal towns - many even more picturesque - are destroyed.
The Gulf Coast is like part of the family to me. My father's side of the family moved to Mobile County in the 1830s, only a decade after Alabama became a state. Dad was raised outside Mobile, and I have relatives still living there and in Orange Beach. My parents bought the little house on the bay in Biloxi because the gulf is in Dad's blood. You should see him come alive when he gets near there, when he talks about seafood and Mardi Gras.
Dad passed on some gulf-blood to me. I've always loved driving into Mobile and smelling that weird paper-mill odor in the air, and I feel a little shiver when I pass near Citronelle, where my ancestors are buried. Though I've never lived on the coast (we're about three hours north), going there always feels like going home.
I've been watching the hurricane coverage almost non-stop, always waiting for more footage of the places I know, trying to recognize something in all the destruction. Searching for clues to the fate of my parents' little piece of the coast, their little house 10 feet above sea level. One guy from the back bay said his house only flooded a few feet; another said his house was swept away. It's still a great big question mark.
I am grateful because my family is safe. We still have homes to live in and jobs to go to. Electricity, water, air conditioning. We still have our family photos and mementos, if not the furniture and the new riding lawn mower and the curtains Mom made.
But still I hurt because the coast hurts. It's that gulf-blood that does it.
posted by K | 1:37 PM
5 Comments:
What a huge loss. I'm almost speechless.
So sorry, Kristin, but I'm grateful that your family is all okay.
I'm so sorry Kristin, I think it is understandable to me sad. I am sad, and I know no one there.
I hope all is well with your family and home.
Kristen- Glad your family is okay and we will keep them in our prayers here in Chicago. I feel sad that I never got a chance to see some of these places before this happened- but you know what was lost, which must be even harder. Take care and be well.
The last hurricane that past thru Puerto Rico was hurricane Jean. She left us without water and electricity for two weeks. Even after that experience I can only imagine the nightmare in the Gulf coast.
I wish everyone in the Gulf coast the best.
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