Hurricane Katrina

Hello from Florida and Mr. Casserole. St. Casserole is fine, sitting in a condo in Florida, and trying to reach friends and family in Mississippi on the phone. I, the husband, found a Wifi coffee house and called St.C, who wanted me to post note. Being somewhat unfamiliar with her blogging format, bear with me as I give the run-down. As an old hurricane hand , I was not frightened about the storm until it took the Camille turn, and ran up the 89th due North toward us. We packed, took some important personal possessions (never enough and never enough room) and headed to a friend's condo, who wanted to stay behind. The drive took 8 hours for what normally would be a three hour drive. 8 hours feels like 20 when there is mewing, moaning and groaning in the back... and, besides the kids, the cats were unhappy. We are all safe. On the other hand, we have little cell phone service with our area. We know our house is safe, though all the trees are down. We understand there is no water inside and a friend opened up the house and removed all the food. My office, just recently built, is gone. There are old concrete tabby steps and nothing more. We have rented a Uhaul, bought as many ice chests as we can, gotten lots of gas cans and water containers, and are intending to leave St. C and daughter here and take food, ice, water, gas and food home to friends, family and needy. I will pack up as soon as we can get home.

Right now, the roads are impassable. No power. Trees down. News is that my office area is flattened along with the tons of stuff that was meaningful to me as regards my career, my family history, and loving family here. Replacable in other ways. Not really important since we are all alive and well. But, sadly missed. Things are icons for one's sadness. Here is a wierd one: my shed is standing. this is a joke among my friends and family. I have been meaning to tear the shed down for years and just have not gotten around to it. It is an old corrugatged plastic greenhouse looking thing and is about 12 x 35. It is literally held together by muddauber spit and beetle dung. It survived 145 mile an hour winds when my building, expertly crafted by my beswt friend, a contractor, cannot be found. No phyme, no reason. Like why some people live and others don't; why some houses get nailed by trees and others are unscathed. No way to wrap one's mind around the whys and wherefores. We find out about friends in odd ways. Daughter is expert text messager and son has cell friends away from area. They seem to be able to send messages to people who send messages and get notes back. We hope all friends are safe. We know that some lost houses, businesses, places they loved. We know friends at churches who no longer have church buildings. We know food and water will be needed in days. We are nervous about staying here and unsure how to get back. We see friends interviewed on tv and they are shell shocked. Anyway, nothing to do but make lists, buy everything in sight that might help, and wait for the roads to clear. St. C will write when she has time I am sure. Mr. Casserole, from our evacuation spot in Florida.