Live from Pearlington - 6

When Katrina came, Charles was caught flat-footed. He’d been so tired from loading the van and getting his motorcycle ready to move, he’d lain down for a bit of a nap. When he awoke it was too late, the Perfect Storm was upon him. The wind and the rain were so intense, he found he couldn’t get the van to turn around in the driveway. Katrina wouldn’t let him. Abandoning the vehicles, he returned to his house to seek shelter. That was his first mistake.

When the water came, it came quickly, too quickly in fact to know just what to do. By the time Charles formed his plan, it was up to his chest. Kicking out a back window, he had to swim under the water to get out. When he surfaced, he was in the middle of hell. Filling the two green garbage bags he’d grabbed with air from his lungs, like balloons, he tucked them under his arms and swam for it. The eastern eyewall was passing over Pearlington and the winds were almost 200 miles per hour. The rain was horizontal and driving everything before it. He swam to an old pump house, where there was six inches of air between the surface of the water and the roof. Swimming in through a window, he caught his breath until the walls disappeared around him. He looked up and saw the entire roof of his house lift off the building and smash into the trees behind him.

He saw his neighbours’ boat, on a trailer behind their house. It had floated loose from its moorings and Charles headed for. As he swam for his life, he swears he saw his brother flailing in the water, drowning. He called to him in disbelief. His brother had been killed five years ago when a tugboat ran over his trawler in the Gulf. That’s when Charles began to pray, asking God to spare him the same fate. He knew if he didn’t make that boat, it was going to be the end of his own life. After what seemed like hours he finally made it and, exhausted, it took him some time to haul his abundant self inside. It was in this boat that Charles rode out the rest of the storm, lying in the bottom quivering, shivering and praying to God Almighty.

At last the wind and rain began to subside and he headed for his parent’s house, worried for their welfare. It took forever, using his hands as paddles. When he finally got there, he found them safe in the attic, breathing in the 8 inch space between the surface of the water and the top of their roof. His Dad had forced a piece of hose up through the roof vent through which they could get fresh air. They stayed there for almost 14 hours until the surge returned to the Gulf, leaving complete devastation behind it. It was then that Charles finally collapsed, in a hastily erected tent he found and erected on a foot of mud and filth. There he stayed, sick and shaking, for four days until a rescue team from Florida found him and his elderly parents.

I share this story this morning so you might understand why I have decided to stay. Every man, woman and child in Pearlington, Gulfport, Waveland, Biloxi, New Orleans and all points in between have a Katrina story. Too many of them are like Charles’. They soldier on, trying to rebuild their lives in a sea of uncertainty. The good folks of Pearlington are getting few answers. Will the town be bulldozed? Can they rebuild and it they do, does their land meet the new federal elevation standards? Will the building inspector ever come? Will their FEMA trailer ever arrive and when it does, has it been so hastily built to meet the demand that, like so many, it doesn’t work very well? You can’t get a trailer until the fallen trees and debris are cleared and the lot levelled. Most can’t afford to hire someone to do that and there aren’t enough chainsaws anyway. Will Coast Electric erect a new pole and provide electricity, a condition of getting a trailer? Why is Pearlington not even on the official Mississippi state map? Will FEMA ever return a call? Will someone help my daughter with her nightmares? It’s endless. The insurance companies are bailing out at a record pace, claiming most of the damage is from “floods” and they don’t cover that. FEMA is overwhelmed and Mississippi politics abounds.

Yet, we are here and we are helping. In addition to the Pearl Mart, the Red Cross Shelter, the independent clinic created by Paula Buhr - the first response nurse from Houston - our own ambulance and the Red Cross food tent and the Salvation Army food truck, we are gathering some impressive resources. A team here from Water Missions International will install a new water pump for free, as soon as your trailer arrives and you have power. The great guys from the Carbondale, Colorado Fire Department are cutting trees and clearing lots for trailers - 160 so far. They are joined by groups from all over, like the Mormons, and under the direction of Keith Nelson. We have a group from Charlottesville, Virginia building 16x20 foot sheds. We have crews helping to muck out houses and carpenters building disabled ramps and special needs items. We provide the community with satellite phones, showers and three squares a day. Pearl Mart is booming and is now the Pearlington Recovery and Resource Centre. I am making daily contact with groups all over the country and inspiring them to send us help, not money. Goods flow in and out all day. We have had two Karaoke nights to enormous success, as kids cavort and sing and the folks lighten up and have some fun. This Saturday, some local fishermen are bringing 200 lbs of crab and 200 pounds of shrimp to Karaoke Night, for a good ole-fashioned Mississippi crab boil. Pearl Mart is lined with wooden shelves built by the men from Zuni and Pima. Americorps, a national group of young people like Katimavik, stock shelves, move material and keep the place as clean as we can. We got it goin’ on!

Pastor Fields, the nominal director of the Centre, is hardly here, so the task of management of all this falls to me. Frankly, I’m in my glory. Every skill I ever learned is focussed on this task. I have locked down this place as tightly as I can, to prevent any perceived gaps or weaknesses that could be exploited in a “hostile takeover” by clipboards looking for glory or control. There is nothing broken now that needs fixing. I am on the job well before sunup until well after sundown. I am a complete opportunist - never missing a chance to get these people something they need. I listen and counsel quietly, as the natural tragedies of life unfold, made more intense by Katrina and its aftermath. I pray every morning that we are just left alone to work this miracle without interference from those who want to exploit our obvious success for their own glorification. We are helping to put Pearlington on the map and people from Hancock County to the governor’s mansion are now hearing about this little bayou town.

My wonderful friend and colleague Nancy left in a rented car on Saturday at dawn. She will be home by now, God willing. My wife Marian picked her up at the airport last night. There’s another miracle - my wife. In her quiet, competent way she covers me, re-arranging my busy practice to allow me this chance to do what I was born to do. She continually amazes me and every night before I bunk down I hold her in my heart, loving her as I have never loved another. I could not ask for more.

Those of you who know her, please offer her support. Those who do not, please send her love and light. If you can, send a bit more money to cover the rental of the karaoke equipment I am keeping an extra three weeks. Please pray that I have a practice to go home to. Mostly, pray for Pearlington and for all God’s children who are hurting today. We have so much and I wish you all could come here for just a few hours. It would change your life forever. In a good way. In a permanent way.

I’ve never been a religious man, just a spiritual one. God walks with me each day and guides my hand. He draws those to me who I can help and protects me from those who would hurt me or derail me. I have complete faith and trust in Him/Her and I am making friendships that will last a lifetime. When Joe and Sharon Clarke finally pulled out yesterday, I held them both in my arms and we cried. Like their daughter Frisco Jen, they are the best - selfless and generous. And as the sun begins to rise above the bayous of the deep South, I thank God I can be here, where I break my heart each day and give thanks for the chance each night.