I have to admit, it’s getting better…

Our fellow Americans came from far and wide to work with us, shoulder to shoulder, to dig (literally) our way out of the refuse of our past lives. We will be forever grateful, and I don’t ever want to forget the love and gratitude, the smiles and the tears that dominated those days when the volunteers hugged us, kissed us, and made the bo-bo on our hearts feel a little better. It was during those times that I was TRULY proud to be an American.

My Archives: A year after Katrina

At 7:00 a.m., the phone rang. It was Tracy. She was calling from her summer home in Carriere, Mississippi, on the edge of Picayune. “It’s a Cat 5,” she said. I sat up in bed. “WHAT??? Since when,”, I asked. “I don’t know, she hit a hot spot and flared up overnight. What are you going to do?” I woke Eddie up, saying “It’s a Cat 5, Ed. Wake up. We can’t stay!”