This reflection is by Teri Collier, a senior from Clintonville, Wis.
On our last night in Biloxi, a group of us took a long, leisurely walk to the beach. We wound through the streets of Biloxi chatting quietly, being sure not to disturb the neighborhoods we passed through, and after hitting a few dead ends we finally found Pass Road, which runs along the beach. As we trudged through sand-covered sidewalks and adapted to missing chunks of concrete in our path, I was broadsided by the darkness of our surroundings. Certainly I had seen the damage caused by Hurricane Katrina in the daylight, and really there was nothing to see. The souvenir shops had been gutted, the houses bulldozed and hauled away, the boardwalk taken by the storm’s 140 mph winds, and even the shoreline was relatively bare. But as we walked along the coast that night, I was struck with the realization that the area which we were strolling had once been a vibrant, neon atmosphere pulsing with energy and light. However, while I was surrounded by the shadows and silence of Katrina’s fallout, the people I met and the stories I heard throughout the week serve as strong evidence that though the lights are out in Biloxi, the fire of its spirit has not been consumed by the darkness.
The most simultaneously heart warming and heart breaking story to me is that of a man named Ralph. He was “only 82 years old” and, like most of the people in his neighborhood, had been tragically affected by the hurricane. His house had been so flooded that he almost had to climb into his attic, and the storm left his yard in a shambles. As a group of us worked on hauling the garbage and debris from his front yard, a few of us had a chance to chat with him. I’d been chatting and joking with him all afternoon, and as he was showing off the only three flowers that were blooming – three bright red zinnias popping out from behind his FEMA trailer – I gathered enough confidence to mention that he was in pretty high spirits considering the circumstances. Ralph looked at me with his glittering blue eyes and said simply “What am I supposed to do, go pout in a corner?” I was amazed at his response. This man had lost his home, his precious garden, and everything that belonged to him, and yet he saw the value of looking for good in every situation.
Shortly after our little conversation, I learned that the pile of soggy treated lumber sitting in the yard had been purchased so Ralph could build a ramp for his wheelchair-bound wife. Though she survived the hurricane, Ralph lost his Rose soon after, due to health issues complicated by the storm. Later in the week, one of the older, more skilled members of our group had gone to Ralph’s house to work on some of the electrical work and dry wall to find that the men Ralph had paid to fix his wiring did it all wrong. The man mentioned that as he received the news, Ralph had tears in his eyes and when I think about how infuriating that must have been, my heart aches for him. Despite the bad news and loss, I can still see Ralph’s eyes shining with hope, lighting up his darkness.
The attitude I saw in Ralph is one that is shared by most of the people who chose to remain in Biloxi. A wonderful example of this attitude is the gratitude many of the people we have worked with have expressed. It makes sense that they would be appreciative of our efforts toward their recovery, but it would be just as easy for them to shrug it off and walk away. As the week went by, we were told time and again how much our mere presence meant to the people, that it didn’t matter whether we were helping build houses, raking leaves, or picking up sticks, but that we were there showing that we cared. One woman expressed her gratefulness by handing $146 in cash to Father Tom as he purchased our groceries one night, while another had a huge chocolate cake made and decorated for the people who helped paint her home.
The last six months have certainly not been easy for the people living along the Gulf coast, but along with the sadness and despair come hope, and the realization of what is truly important in life. Many people lost their homes and everything they owned, but at the end of the storm all that mattered was that their families were safe and their friends alive. The wrath of nature took its toll on what man created, but the winds of Hurricane Katrina couldn’t blow out the fire of survival in the spirit of humanity.
