Your Ship Came In...

This week marks the 19th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. It marked so many firsts for me. It was the first time I ever wondered if my family were all still alive. (They decided to evacuate from the Mississippi Gulf Coast last minute. Originally, they were going to stay.) We had extensive damage to our house in Jackson. It was the first time I had to work while wondering if my family were all still alive and if my roof was going to fall in after a huge oak tree fell on the house. It was the first time that I heard stories that made you proud to be a Mississippian and appalled at what humans could do to each other within minutes of each other.

This is what was left of my parents' dream beach retirement home, which they had not been in quite a year when the hurricane hit Waveland. That's my son playing in the rubble. (My family was OK!) My parents had an RV that they evacuated in - and that became their home for a couple of years afterward.

They brought nothing with them as they decided to evacuate last minute. If anyone mentions an inheritance at any family gathering, my father always loves to say, "All of your inheritance is at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico."

At work, it was the first time I realized that organizing people who wanted to help was as big a job as helping those in need. And there was so many in need.

To help my hometown in my own way, from afar, I created a website, www.katrinaartists.com , and offered a free page to any artist who wanted one to sell their work. I also offered it to the public as a way to help struggling Coast artists who now had no way to make a living. And it worked. Children's book offers were made. Lots of pieces were sold. One piece was sent to me as a Thank You from an artist who evacuated to Memphis and tried to make ends meet. It is still in my living room to this day.

In every loss, there is a lesson. Sometimes, during a disaster, it's hard to overcome the feeling that there is nothing meaningful you can do from afar. You must jump in and do the work nearby to make a difference. But during Katrina I learned that being afar can be your superpower. And if you really want to make a difference, you can always find a way.

p.s. Much of my life I had heard my father opining that he was always just waiting for his ship to come in. So I made him this sweatshirt to commemorate the day that his ship finally came in. I sent him a note along with the sweatshirt that he should go pick it up. It was on the beach in Biloxi!