ring around the rosies

Katrinaversary Observed

Welp, it has been a solid year since the storm of the century rocked our little world, which you can read about here. I honestly forgot about my intention to write about this memorable date, even though one only has to turn on the television to be reminded of it. I have pretty much stopped updating everyone on the Katrina recovery. My reasons for it are many, and not at all nice. I hate having to cop an attitude. Even when it may be warranted. I don't want to descend into whining and complaining, but bear with me for a little while. I'll try not to be too negative. I just want to share a little bit of our reality, highlighted with pictures from one year ago. Though most of these particular locations have been cleaned up or repaired, plenty more exist at points farther west down the coastline on which no one has begun to work.

(Brown trees everywhere we looked)

So why no discussion of the storm? Frankly, I'm sick of it, as are most Coastians. We are just sick to death of it. I hate hearing about New Orleans. It completely overshadows the real natural disaster here in Mississippi. Their disaster was (and still is) human, and largely based in incompetence. So many people to blame, so many causes, no one can point a finger in any one direction. It's just the way that city is. I love it, its food, architecture, history, people, and culture, but it has, and has always had, so many problems that keep it from having better schools, safer streets, and a fresher smell. And this was pre-Katrina. Now one longs for the old-fashioned smell of garbage. Ah, the good old days.

(Our cul-de-sac, post-K.)

So every time I see a New Orleans-based Katrina special, I change the channel. If I see a Mississippi-based Katrina special, I watch about five minutes of it and then change the channel. Seriously, sick. of. it.

When I worked at the newspaper (remember when I did that? So weird.), I had two routes to work. One involved driving along the beachfront section of Hwy 90, in front of all those slabs and piles of debris and demolished casinos, and yes, the Mississippi Sound (also filled with debris, which one could see very well at low-tide). The other route involved interstate and a north-south surface street which did not take me past the worst areas. After a few weeks of beach front driving, which at first I thought was romantic and novel, I couldn't take it anymore. It had become my albatross, forcing me to look at all the devastation on a daily basis. I never got used to it. It was simply too overwhelming. So an interstate girl I happily became and my mental state improved immensely.

(Debris dumping ground...to be incinerated and/or recycled)

Already, we have to gaze upon the countless FEMA trailers alongside many many homes, and piles of debris still lining various roadways. I no longer watch the local news because, aside from the amateurish talking heads that deliver the pap, it has become "Rebuilding Mississippi" all day and all night. We are forging ahead with life in the new normal, thankyouverymuch, and we don't need to talk it to death.

(A neighbor's heartwarming sentiment)

Really, we live our lives just fine and watch the tropical storm forecast out of the corner of our eyes. That's the unspoken reality, waiting for abuse from that whore Mother Nature, who for now seems to be on the wagon. We're not questioning and no one talks about it, for speaking it might just invoke Her wrath. But when Ernesto came about, we held our collective breath and prayed. But it just staggered off into the ether and looks like it will annoy none of us on this side of the coast for the time being, and possibly only a few Floridians. In fact, I'm so superstitious about this not talking about it thing that I feel uncomfortable even mentioning it now. There isn't enough wood in the world for me to knock to make me feel better, so I'll just shut up.

(Historic beachfront home no more)

But the bottom line is, today is the one year Katrinaversary, and it will be followed on its heels by the unfortunate five year 9/11 remembrance, and then we can move on with the usual. I hate this day, really, for I will never ever as long as I live forget the days after Katrina when we watched our evacuated friends and neighbors stumble home one at a time and find their homes destroyed, their friends, relatives, and pets missing and/or dead, everyone with that dazed look, not yet able to comprehend the extent of the damage and suffering. I'll never forget the look on everyone's face on Aug. 30 in the Greenville Wal-Mart, all Mississippians on the return trip who didn't know what to buy, whether they had a home or not, where their friends and neighbors were. They just couldn't grasp it. Well, it's been a year and I still can't comprehend it.

So I don't blog about it. Instead, having talked that tired subject to death, I blog about new and wonderful things that make me happy, like this:

If you remember yesterday, I was on the way to the P.O. in typically belated fashion to retrieve the package from Knits and Grits Katie. I dashed over after my dr's appt. all a-tingle with anticipation. What could it be? What had the genius Katie whipped up this time? Well, naturally, I was thrilled.

Behold, the pillow.

Katie came through big time with her "hah qualit-ay" chi-chi pillow for the nursery bed. We love chi-chi pillows! Especially ones as cute as this. Can you even believe she's so talented? I especially love the monogram, which commands one to SEE. See?

Thank you so much, Katie! I love her work so much that I snagged the latest baby creation hot off the sewing machine: a peapod baby quilt. Shhhh! It's a thank you gift for the Grandpea, who led the crazy mad nursery shopping spree and who has a thing for all things peapod. I can't wait to get my grubby little hands on this one, too.

And finally, for Froggie Meanie Renee, a shot of the doll basket beside the hot pink nursing chair. She seems to have a fetish for Raggedy Ann, and this one is from my own personal collection: Dolls of the 70's and 80's. All of the dolls except for Raggedy Ann are handmade. Raggedy Ann deserves a place of honor, though, because she is so well-loved, and I've had her the longest. I'm not sure when she came into my life, but she has certainly set a good example for all the other dolls. This is the way to be a toy...

All the girls together at last.

Have a happy and safe Aug. 29.

Posted by Rachel at August 29, 2006 06:00 AM