Observations
from Biloxi
By Tom Foley
Thomas Jefferson is reputed to
have said, “It is part of the American character to consider nothing
as desperate.”
The devastation of 90,000 square miles of American soil
in the Gulf Coast comes close for 750,000 people who have lost their
homes and the 1.3 million families who have received financial
assistance from the Red Cross. The
numbers are staggering, and dwarf any previous American Red Cross
response, at home or abroad, in its 125-year history.
I recently returned from Biloxi, Mississippi, where I saw
both palpable desperation and incredible resourcefulness in the face of
destruction that few can imagine. Several
observations that test Jefferson’s assertion:
First, the level of destruction is profound and at times overwhelming.
There is just no substitute for witnessing the physical
devastation first-hand and dealing with the despair in people’s eyes.
I drove eight miles of coastline on I-90 in two hours one
afternoon, and did not see a single habitable structure.
I did see a (formerly) floating casino sitting on top of a
destroyed hotel, hundreds of boats improbably repositioned on dry land,
dozens of cars overturned at odd angles or suspended in trees, and miles
of buildings smashed to smithereens.
In the five counties in which I served, 90% of houses were damaged, by
either the hurricane or 70 accompanying tornadoes, and one quarter were
completely destroyed. When I drove into Mississippi from Alabama, the traditional Welcome
sign on the highway reads: “It
Feels Like Home.” Not for
hundreds of thousands of people -
not these days anyway.
Second, the volunteers– including 226 Red Cross
volunteers from the Philadelphia area – are an indelible part of the
story. I stayed at a
United States Navy shelter at night with 500 or so of my closest new
friends on a veritable sea of cots – lined up two feet apart in a
giant warehouse on the back lot of a Seabees base.
At lights-out (10 pm), huge industrial floor fans echoed off each
other with the soothing sound of water lapping the beach – probably
not so soothing for people whose homes were washed away.
Port-a-potties lined the outside walls like lieutenants
at attention. Two trailers
supplied showers, one each for males and females.
And a hot meal every night lifted spirits after each long day.
I found a cot close up to the far wall, and enjoyed easy
chats with my neighbors: a New York City fireman, a 70-year-old Red
Cross veteran, and an 18-year-old on his first assignment.
This was a motley crew, united by the conviction that there is
too much to do and, even with thousands of volunteers in place, not
enough time to do it all.
We chuckled about shelter guidelines such as, “If you
find snakes or a fire ant colony, notify the shelter supervisor
immediately,” and “Closing off the cuffs of pants with rubber bands
will help prevent fire ants from going where you don’t want them.
Rubber bands are available at the registration desk.”
This was disconcerting advice for the uninitiated, and in the end,
actually kind of comforting. Our
hosts thought of everything, right down to the rubber bands.
Finally, this hurricane response is
going to be a long-term assignment for the Red Cross and its partners,
and for the state, local and federal governments.
90,000 square miles is twice the size of Pennsylvania. That’s a lot of destruction. Reconstruction will be
complicated because this hurricane smacked areas with dense populations
(New Orleans and the MS Gulf Coast), high poverty rates (13% was the
lowest in the five counties I worked), now unheard of unemployment
rates, and local governments that seem unsure about where and how to
start.
This crisis will require the American people to keep a place in their
hearts for millions of our fellow citizens for many years.
This crisis, the largest natural disaster that ever hit this
nation, will also test the truth of Jefferson’s dictum.
Foley is the CEO of the American Red Cross, Southeastern PA.
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