At a young age, we learned that the timeline of Man was divided into B.C. and A.D. (or B.C.E. and C.E. if you had Mrs. Byzeck-Sheridan for Ninth-Grade Religion class). Along the Mississippi Gulf Coast, you could say that time is divided into B.K. and A.K. "Before Katrina" and "After Katrina." This is the hurricane that we all saw ravage the Coast and flood New Orleans over Labor Day 2005. And it was awful. But the eye of the storm passed over the Louisiana and Mississippi border- a little over 40 miles west of us- dumping the worst of a hurricane's counter-clockwise fury onto every MS coastal city and town, including Ocean Springs, where we live now. One of my favorite cities, full of artists and antiques is Bay St. Louis. They were completely leveled.
I didn't fully appreciate Katrina's impact on the Gulf, outside of Louisiana until moving down here. Almost every conversation, no matter who I'm talking to or what it's about, Katrina comes up. It could be the most mundane conversation, like getting directions somewhere, or the introductory things you talk about when meeting someone new: where you live, what you do. People will often have two answers, before the storm and after. Because the world as they knew it was washed away in a 27 foot surge and had to be recreated over the last three and a half years--- which isn't THAT much time. A lot of work remains. A lot of empty slabs of concrete or a grand staircase or fireplace that leads to no where serve as memorials and reminders to how far everything has come. We have a couple empty slabs on our street, but if you drive a little further east, there are a few streets that are still leveled. These are high-end ocean-view lots, worth half a million and up, even without the house. I've whined a few times, wondering why the gorgeous beach-front along Highway 90 has no continous board-walk, no fun restaurants or bike-paths. But there's no shortage of ugly brick Waffle Houses and IHOPs. Oh, and there's a Hooter's further down in Gulfport. Then, my pottery teacher explained that these franchises are the only ones who can afford the outrageously priced property insurance. Oh.
But there is so much that has been built from nothing.
One day, when I was feeling fat (it's contagious here you know), I went for a super-long bike-ride, all the way to the bridge that connects Ocean Springs to Biloxi, crossing over the Biloxi River on one side and the Gulf of Mexico on the other. The bridge has a gorgeous pedestrian path, safely separating walkers from highway traffic, and wide enough for bikers and joggers to run and ride freely. I pushed up to the top of the incline, and then at the top, paused. It was so beautiful. And the salty sea air smelled so good, so fresh. I didn't feel fat anymore, I didn't feel frustrated or overwhelmed or homesick. Exercise is cool like that; makes you feel alive again, and puts everything else in perspective.
I was on the new Biloxi Bay Bridge, which opened April 2008. Rachel Bergeron, then 16 years old, sang at the dedication.
This was the original bridge, after Katrina:
And below in the background is the new bridge, stronger than it was before, more beautiful and better than it was before, and a testament to the spirit of this community. "Katrina" will always be a loaded word, a book-end to a life before and a life after. Until she's dethroned by the next storm. Which is a long, long time from now, and we won't talk about it (knock on wood).
If and when you come to visit, I will take you on a bike ride or a walk or a drive across the bridge. It's pretty cool.
