- Outdoor columnist Ben Smith says everyone in South Mississippi has a Katrina story. He looks back 20 years ago and is grateful for what he has.
The one thing that I understand the older that I get is time goes by in a hurry. You finish school, enter the world ready to take on all things, then you get married and have children. It’s not very long before you’re dropping them off for their first day of school. Turn your head for a moment then turn back around and you’re watching them ride off to their first day of high school with a friend. You can’t stop time, and you can’t slow it down.
Since time is going to be the topic of this week, I couldn’t believe it the other day when I heard some guys on the radio talking about the twenty-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. Twenty years, but for me it still feels like yesterday. I know most people that lived at least south of Highway 84 have their own Katrina story, and mine isn’t any more earth shattering than most, but I’ve never really told this story outside of a few friends and family members. I know this column is generally reserved for outdoors, but with the twentieth anniversary looming this week I figured what the heck.
I was a student at William Carey University in Hattiesburg during 2005. An old high school buddy and I had moved into our first ever apartment about two months before the storm that would change the lives of thousands hit our coast. After braving a year in the dorms, I was so proud to be living off campus and doing things on my own. We had a bachelor pad that would make any man envious. We had deer heads, giant bass, and the biggest flatscreen television that would fit in the building. And if you dimmed the lights enough the neon Miller Lite sign really brought out the antlers on the wall. We kept the freezer stocked with wild game and fish and the grill was always hot. For two college kids, we were living the dream.
All of that didn’t come without responsibility, though. I worked in the lumber yard at Marvin’s on Highway 49 to pay all of my bills. I spent most of my summer days between playing ball and loading wood for contractors. I enjoyed it, but looking back I feel a little foolish killing myself on those hot summer days for minimum wage just to be able to afford an apartment that I didn’t spend that much time in.
The day before the storm arrived, our manager wanted me and another guy to band up all of the lumber and put it under the sheds to keep any debris from damaging the wood. It took the two of us all day and then some to get it finished. Hattiesburg was bustling that day. The coast issued evacuation warnings and there were tons of people in town trying to escape the storm. The northbound lanes of Interstate 59 were jam packed with people either coming into Hattiesburg to stay or leaving Hattiesburg to get further away. My parents wanted me to come home ahead of the storm, but I was too tired at the end of the day to leave. I’d been through plenty of hurricanes before having lived in Florida and South Mississippi, so I was confident that I’d be okay. I don’t think my dad was too happy about me staying in Hattiesburg, but he didn’t argue too much. Just before going to bed, I remember something my parents would do ahead of a hurricane, and it proved valuable in the days to come. I filled up my bathtub to the top with water to have just in case and went to sleep.
I woke up early the next morning to the sound of the wind. My roommate had gone home so I was the only one at the apartment. Come to find out later, I was pretty much the only person left in the entire apartment complex. I got up and looked outside and didn’t think much about it. It was windy and rainy, but I’d seen this before. In a few hours it would all be over with, and I may have to endure a night, or two, without power. No big deal, right?
As the hours passed, the wind got stronger and stronger. The power was out and the only noise in the building was the wind blowing through the stairwell. I sat by the balcony window on the top floor and just stared outside watching the trees bend wondering which one might go first. That’s where things got dicey. A spinoff tornado came ripping through. Two by four pieces of wood were being hurled through the air. A sailboat, brought up from the coast, was trailered outside of our building and it was now on its side with a 2×4 sticking out of the side of it. All of a sudden a loud bang came from my bedroom and insulation filled the apartment. Our roof had been peeled off exposing the top floor to the outside. I walked back to my bedroom and could see the sky as the rain poured in. This was bad.
I got as many things as I could out of my room and moved them to the living room, including my cell phone. The rain kept coming and eventually the sheetrock ceiling gave way in the living room and came crashing down right on my phone crushing it. The wind later subsided, but our awesome bachelor pad had been turned into a mess. I tried to leave the complex, but trees were down everywhere. For the next two nights, I slept on our balcony without seeing another person nor having any contact with anyone.
Two days after the storm rolled through, a group of men cleared the road out of the complex. My roommate returned and we decided to pack up what we could and go home. It took us over four hours to get from Hattiesburg to Laurel, and when I got home I learned that my parents had gone to stay at my grandmother’s house in Smith County. I left a note saying I was alive and headed to Florence to my wife’s (then girlfriend) parents’ house.
I spent the next couple of months living on a friend’s couch awaiting a new apartment. As out of sorts as I was, I was lucky. There were so many that lost everything during Katrina, including many that lost their lives. As we approach the twenty-year anniversary this week I will look back and be grateful for what I have. Ever since that day I’ve had a lot more respect for those storms and their power. So, here’s to all that have a Katrina story to tell and Lord willing we can keep telling those stories and not any new ones.
Ben Smith
