Gulf coast landfall
11.08.2004
I just returned from a week on the road. Pensacola, FL, to be exact. I'm not sure whether or not I've conveyed to you, Gentle Reader, just how little there is to recommend Pensacola to a prospective visitor. And what with Hurricane Ivan's recent whirlwind tour, there's even less.
But I had to train faculty, so down there I goes. As the plane descended into the area, I saw that virtually every roof was the recipient of the Army Corps of Engineers' "Operation Blue Roof": blue tarp covered everything.
Along with the property damage, around 40,000 residents were displaced by the storm damage. What that meant for yours truly was that there was no room at the inn, the manger, or even the gutter. The closest available hotel was 1.25 hours away in Point Clear, Alabama. So I had early mornings and late nights dealing with the commute.
The unexpected thing was how painful staying in Point Clear turned out to be. See, that was the home of my high school girlfriend Mara Buffett (then Mara Lyons). She lived more or less with her grandparents Peets and J.D. down in Point Clear, when not at her mother's apartment on Esplanade Avenue in New Orleans. Mara was probably the most serious relationship I had prior to coming to Auburn and meeting Shel, and I was with her during my senior year of high school - a fairly formative year, all things considered.
The relationship didn't end well. As many do, it eventually got stale, and we were frankly too young, too selfish, and too unaware to know what to do about it. Things got hurtful toward the end, and it was a messy break. It hurt like hell for quite a while.
Well, we all like to think that we've grown since then, don't we? After all, it's been about fifteen years since then, and I know I've come a long way. Looking back, though, I still find that place to be one that hurts -- one that could use letting go of shame, and embracing some grace. In short, I'd like to find some way to set things aright.
I don't know if it's even possible, or wise. This will have to be a two part-post, but the long and short of it is I want to be able to tell her: Be well.
But I had to train faculty, so down there I goes. As the plane descended into the area, I saw that virtually every roof was the recipient of the Army Corps of Engineers' "Operation Blue Roof": blue tarp covered everything.
Along with the property damage, around 40,000 residents were displaced by the storm damage. What that meant for yours truly was that there was no room at the inn, the manger, or even the gutter. The closest available hotel was 1.25 hours away in Point Clear, Alabama. So I had early mornings and late nights dealing with the commute.
The unexpected thing was how painful staying in Point Clear turned out to be. See, that was the home of my high school girlfriend Mara Buffett (then Mara Lyons). She lived more or less with her grandparents Peets and J.D. down in Point Clear, when not at her mother's apartment on Esplanade Avenue in New Orleans. Mara was probably the most serious relationship I had prior to coming to Auburn and meeting Shel, and I was with her during my senior year of high school - a fairly formative year, all things considered.
The relationship didn't end well. As many do, it eventually got stale, and we were frankly too young, too selfish, and too unaware to know what to do about it. Things got hurtful toward the end, and it was a messy break. It hurt like hell for quite a while.
Well, we all like to think that we've grown since then, don't we? After all, it's been about fifteen years since then, and I know I've come a long way. Looking back, though, I still find that place to be one that hurts -- one that could use letting go of shame, and embracing some grace. In short, I'd like to find some way to set things aright.
I don't know if it's even possible, or wise. This will have to be a two part-post, but the long and short of it is I want to be able to tell her: Be well.
