Low Oak Trees, Twisted in the Wind

On Sunday we were given a tour by Connie Rockoco, a woman who holds a position in Harrison County that's comparable to Maggie Brooks's in Rochester. We received a our tour through much of the area, and the discrepancies in the repairs between the wealthy neighborhoods and those in poverty are so vast. In the more affluent neighborhoods, life seemed almost normal, except there was still something that seemed amiss; usually this was just seen in overturned lawn ornaments, other times, just a dented mailbox.

When we entered the poorer areas, Connie informed us that the devastation unfolding before our eyes was to do a 30 ft wall of water that was a deadly precursor to the undulating wrath that Katrina would later bring. Really, as trite as this may sound, there are no words that can capture what we've seen. Rather than try to convey the full breadth of everything, I'll instead share some of the more poignant scenes that deeply affect myself and the others:
The first thing that I saw which brought tears to my eyes were when we slowly drove past a house that had only it's front porch and fireplace still standing. Along the brick one of the owners had scrawled in spray paint, "What are we supposed to do now?"

A few minutes later we passed another structure that only it's supporting posts intact. Positioned in the middle of the skeletal structure was a lone rocking chair. We learned that many owners come back to their homes and just sit. Nothing was more heartbreaking than picturing the owner who had come back and sat in that rocking chair and just surveyed what was left of their home.

The final moment that left us all silent was driving past low oak trees that were twisted in the wind. Hanging from the branches were blankets, clothing, and in one, a child's toy. With the wind silently pulling at the objects in the trees, and the fog slowly rolling in from the the bay, the scene was truly haunting.

~ Nancy