memories

We lived in Biloxi from May 27, 1995 to April 30, 1996.

We lived at 6416 B Street, in a little duplex. I hated that house. It had rats. It was a nice house, to begin with, but the Air Force decided that it would be better if they added onto it and made it a 3-bedroom house. So it had a somewhat convoluted floorplan. And it was probably built in the 1940's, it had no character. But it was home. And it did have the most amazing tree in the backyard. I hated the house so much, and blocked out most of the good things in my life at that time, I don't even remember what type of tree it was.

I will tell you, without hesitation, that I hate Biloxi. The memories are not pleasant, it was not a good time in my life.

However, as I see the devastation, I am saddened. And I start to remember some of the good things there. Well, the things that were there.

B's parents came to visit, and they stayed at a bed and breakfast. I think it was the Father Ryan House. His mom emailed me today, and said she thought it was probably destroyed. I can't find news on it, but I would have to concur. Nothing on Beach Boulevard seems to remain.

Beauvoir, the Jefferson Davis home, was destroyed. We visited, and it was an interesting period home, with very historic ties to Biloxi.

We shopped at Edgewater Mall, now gone.

We drove by the casinos (though we never went inside) knowing that so many residents depended on them for income. So many of the spouses of military folks depended on them. They are smashed, sunk, beached, gutted, and otherwise destroyed.

I never liked the beach. The sand was coarse, and was always full of broken glass. M and I would walk there when we lived in our apartment (before the house I hated) and spend our days in the sun, dodging broken glass. But, it was an amazing view, and so refreshing.

I imagine its glory is gone today.

I remember these ritzy apartments. After visiting Miami, I know now that they were very Miami-esque, flamingos and all. Art deco, over the top. They are gone.

We went to Alabama now and again, and as you cross over the Pascagoula bridge, there is a giant Ingalls shipyard. They built aircraft carriers. Adjacent is the NAS Pascagoula. I wonder how they are.

The devastation and destruction are bad enough. You would have thought they were as bad as it gets. However, looking at that looting and stealing and disregard for fellow humankind is even more tragic. Who are these people? Are they moms and dads? Neighbors? Religious folks? Professionals? Are they like you and me?

In 1993 Iowa suffered from some devastating floods. Des Moines was without water for weeks. Businesses were destroyed, lives changed. They still talk about the floods, and they are certainly talking now. Today I heard a recount of how there was concern for price gouging. Water was an especially hot commodity, since it all had to be bought. They were quite pleased when they found you could buy water cheaper in Des Moines than in Minneapolis at the time. There are myriad stories about the city being built up during that time, rather than stories about suffering. People came together, and the entire experience is part of the fabric that is the citizens of Iowa. No, it was not shangri-la. Yes, there was suffering. However, I know in my heart of hearts that it was not to this degree. Not because there was less water, but because there was more compassion.

I am glad to be here. I draw the "Iowa Fabric" a little tighter around my shoulders and thank God that I live in a state of communities and neighbors (even pain-in-the-butt neighbors). What has happened on the Gulf Coast is tragic for me on so many levels.

Today also marks the 8th anniversary of Princess Diana's death. It was sad for us-- we were living in England at the time. We had come back to the US for vacation and were staying at B's parents' house when we heard about it. It was our last night in the US, and we were to head back to England in the morning. Of course, she died in the night, and the early morning flight that we took was crowded with reporters. It was a sad thing to come back home to when we returned...

A day of sad memories.