Healing

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The Place That We Forgot
By Shannon Anicas
December 25, 2005
The smell of dirt, dust and yes, mold lofts into your nose the closer you get to the area. The dried mud still sits next to the sides of the only remaining way in or out of the cities we as a nation have now forgotten. Gone are the news trucks, live satellite feeds and reporters sticking a microphone into the faces and lives of people as they witnessed the first reactions of the natives as they had to over and over again relive the, by all accounts, worst day in their lives. Welcome to Bay St. Louis and Waveland, Mississippi.

The sounds of normal small town city life were replaced first with helicopters and now with the buzz of saws, nail guns and backup warnings of large trucks. The “hey y’all’s” are still there, just fewer and farther between. Everywhere you look is an open wound for someone. The trucks over turned in the ditches along Hwy 603 still sit, dust filled and sunk into the ground. From a distance you can see trees with what looks like decorations at first glance, but on closer observations is actually clothes, toys and pieces of someone’s life strewn like fresh snow on a Christmas day.

It is hard to believe that it is actually December 25, 2005 here in these American communities and not sometime 100 years ago and in a 3rd world country. Nearly 5 months later and many roads and bridges are still impassible, houses far from livable and stores and gas stations non-existent. The schools are shells of their former proud selves, yet football teams still played this fall, often on borrowed fields with borrowed equipment, and first words are still taught to little children, hopefully young enough not to remember the horror of that August day. People try to get back to the norm but without any of the normal stuff. But being the resilient folk that they are, they will and with a vengeance.

Why have we forgotten them? Why do children still sleep on concrete slabs in the middle of winter? Why do the elderly still wonder where their medicines will come from and if they get sick who will take care of them? Why are parents silently weeping as the mortgage companies notify them that despite the fact that their home is in piles, they are being sued for non-payment? Why are officials arguing over zoning to the point that insurance monies have been halted? Why, why, why? There are so many questions with no answers, at least not audible ones.

This little corner of Hancock County, Mississippi used to house beautiful beaches, rolling mansions, a bustling shopping area, a fun-filled casino and a growing population that gave back to its community with hard work and dollars spent. Now this area host 1/3rd of its residents, the beach is in need of major dredging and cleaning, the mansions are ghosts in the sand. Next to no jobs and even less money flowing with the casino expected open date of April. Wal-Mart is a tent in front of the brand-new facility that it once was housed. No convenience of fast food, many of these restaurants were only a few years old, as they now lay in ruins. Gas is another convenience that these residents miss. Not because there is a shortage of fuel, but a shortage of service stations in good enough condition to deliver it to its customers.

So what can we do? Many have given their time and money to help, and I thank each and everyone that has, but the biggest thing we can do to help with this rebuilding is not forget. Don’t think that just because it isn’t on the nightly news or the 24/7 cable networks, that this tragedy is over, it is far from. Don’t forget that Mother Nature tossed a 30-foot wave over lower Hancock County while throwing in 145-mph winds in for good measure.

I hear about tsunami remembrance services this Christmas yet not one word about a Katrina service. Guess you have to be in a foreign country to not be forgotten by Americans.

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