Long Beach and Pass Christian can largely be described as the same as Waveland.
It is an amazing scene. It's not that the houses were destroyed, they were removed.
There are whole neighborhoods near the beach that are nothing but concrete slabs, bags fluttering in the trees and the occasional tattered piece of clothing. No wood, no roofs, no bathtubs.
If you walk from the shore 200 yards inland, you see where it all ended up, in a giant pile.
During day two of climbing over rubble to talk to people doing the same, the odor of gas leaking and rotting flesh were overwhelming.
Flashes of memories from two days in the destroyed areas:
Seeing one man walk a block from where his house was and recognizing one of his car tires and 400-pound tool chest.
The woman who floated on her porch in the back bay for 14 hours, using a piece of plywood to shield her, her husband and their pitbull from the 180 mph gusts.
A concrete slab that was once a $1,000,000 home that had nothing left but a gleaming white porcelain toilet sitting in the middle of it. No walls, no lumber, just the toilet. It was also the whitest toilet I have ever seen.
Listening to a Navy chief tell his troops that they were not allowed to search for their homes (or the remnant thereof) because there was a job to do.
The vapid look of animals that were abandoned and made it through.
A big, beautiful deer, lying on its side, bloated but disturbingly clean.
The houses in the middle of the road in Pass Christian, perfectly intact.
The tree cutter who survived Katrina on the shore front by clinging to a tree.
It is an amazing scene. It's not that the houses were destroyed, they were removed.
There are whole neighborhoods near the beach that are nothing but concrete slabs, bags fluttering in the trees and the occasional tattered piece of clothing. No wood, no roofs, no bathtubs.
If you walk from the shore 200 yards inland, you see where it all ended up, in a giant pile.
During day two of climbing over rubble to talk to people doing the same, the odor of gas leaking and rotting flesh were overwhelming.
Flashes of memories from two days in the destroyed areas:
Seeing one man walk a block from where his house was and recognizing one of his car tires and 400-pound tool chest.
The woman who floated on her porch in the back bay for 14 hours, using a piece of plywood to shield her, her husband and their pitbull from the 180 mph gusts.
A concrete slab that was once a $1,000,000 home that had nothing left but a gleaming white porcelain toilet sitting in the middle of it. No walls, no lumber, just the toilet. It was also the whitest toilet I have ever seen.
Listening to a Navy chief tell his troops that they were not allowed to search for their homes (or the remnant thereof) because there was a job to do.
The vapid look of animals that were abandoned and made it through.
A big, beautiful deer, lying on its side, bloated but disturbingly clean.
The houses in the middle of the road in Pass Christian, perfectly intact.
The tree cutter who survived Katrina on the shore front by clinging to a tree.
posted by Josh Norman at 1:09 PM
6 Comments:
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Thanx for the update. Great site!
It must of been cool.
I am a former resident of Long Beach, having graduated LBHS in '83 and visiting many times since. I cannot fathom the enormity of the destruction yet and will likely have tears upon my next visit -- whenever that may be. Thanks for being the eyes and ears for those of us still connected to the area in some way. How is the High School area -- which is where I used to live -- Ferguson Street...
We went through Isabel two years ago and that was nothing compared to Katrina. Hope help has arrived.
I hate you
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