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Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Ivan, Hitting Home...

3:38 PM

If Hurricane Ivan follows its indicated path, sometime in the next 24 hours it will smash into my mother's front door. Yes, Ivan is heading directly at my little hometown of Ocean Springs, Mississippi, where my mother and sister still live in our family home on Front Beach Road. The only thing between them and the storm surge when it comes are a few feet of sand, the sloping grassy hill the old beach house sits on, and my mother's prayers.

As my readers know, I believe in no god other than humanity itself, but today I wished I did so that I could pray. Linda, my first wife, and my son, Joseph and his wife, Michelle, live in New Orleans, which is in at least as much danger--from flooding--as the Gulf Coast. The hours ahead of me will be anxious indeed.

I have spoken to my son and my sister within the hour. My sister, Sylvia, and my mother, will probably ride the storm out instead of evacuating--that was my advice and Sylvia agrees. Before you think us crazy, let me explain. The house was built in 1893 by carpenters and builders who knew what they were doing. The house, sitting on the lovely little hill that slopes gently down to the beach, has weathered every storm in the past 111 years. That includes Camille, which struck in August 1969--then, and still now, the most powerful hurricane to ever strike North America.

Camille hit the Mississippi Gulf Coast with 210 MPH sustained winds and a 21-foot tidal surge. Almost all of Biloxi, Mississippi, the big town just across the bay from Ocean Springs, was devastated; some 300 people died that terrible night. I and Linda and our 14-month-old baby son, Joseph, were alone in her family home in Biloxi on the back bay--Biloxi is a long, thin peninsula with the Gulf of Mexico on one side and Back Bay on the other. My father was alone in the beach house in Ocean Springs, facing the Gulf and Camille.

I was terrified for him, and he was terrified for us. He got the better of it. The old beach house took everything Camille threw at it and lost only some roof shingles; the tremendous pounding of the water turned the sloping hill that saved him and the house into a cliff with a cave. My wife, our baby Joseph, and I had a more eventful night. It should suffice it to say that at one point--right about midnight, when the peninsula that was Biloxi was no more, the Gulf had joined Back Bay and there was only raging seawater where once there had been streets and houses--I was trying to swim in what had been our backyard at the peak of the storm. My stupid mission was an attempt to save my brand new car from being swept too far away.

At a crucial moment, Linda's plaintive cries finally reached my mind and I realized the insanity of what I was doing: Even if I was able to swim through the waves and wind and reach the car, what was I going to do? Hook my arm around a part of it and go wherever it was going? With some difficulty I was able to swim back to the house; the next several hours were some of the longest of my life. The water kept rising, the wind kept roaring, and we had no place to go; the water was either going to rise too high and we were going to drown, or it was going to rise only so far, the house would stand, and we would be alright.

The water reached about three feet high in the house; but obviously we survived. In the morning we awoke to a Mississippi Gulf Coast that would mostly have to be rebuilt. We were under martial law for many weeks; with all the bridges damaged, we could not travel far. But a whole community pulled together and while it would never be the same, we learned much about our neighbors and ourselves.

The reason I do not want my mother and sister to leave the house is because I know the hill and the house can take this new storm, but the roads and bridges probably can not. If they leave, they may not be able to return to the house for a very long time.

New Orleans, my son and his wife, and Linda, are another matter: if the storm comes ashore too far west of Biloxi, around the Rigolets, then the old below-sea-level city will flood completely and the consequences will be catastrophic. However, it will have to make a perfect hit for that to happen. The Army Corps of Engineers have done many studies and we know exactly where a storm must strike for the worst to happen. So far no hurricane ever has. At the moment it does not appear like it will happen this time. But, they are ready to evacuate within a moment's notice; Joseph is prepared, rooms are booked in Galveston, Texas and the car is packed; he will protect his wife and his mother.

I know the hill and the old beach house will protect Sylvia and mother in Ocean Springs. Of course, my mother will surely believe it was her prayers.

3:38 PM / Editor / permalink 1 comments

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1 Comments:

All of Harrison and Hancock counties south of I-10 have been put under a mandatory evacuation and south of US90 in Jackson county. It may be large enough that hurricane force winds could reach Hattiesburg, so people are moving north to Jackson or Little Rock or Memphis. http://www.wlox.com

Tom - Daai Tou Laam

By Anonymous, at 11:04 PM