Hurricanes are killer storms, but living through the storm itself is, for most, not the hard part. It’s the aftermath that’s depressing and can usually have no end in sight.
I brought a load of much needed tarps, bags of much needed ice, and many other things over to my friend Fr. John Payne’s Parish. We’re sending more over in the next few days.
Fr. John evacuated with his hound, a vicious psychotic little thing many somehow love, to his parents house in Arizona. He then turned around and drove back to be with his parishioners. His dog is scarred, probably for life.
It may be because I’m 6’6”, it may be because Little Cujo is psycho, but when Fr. John wasn’t around the smiles disappeared, the crouching and snarling started and I had to bribe him with luncheon meats to move freely about the house without being mauled.
A lot of the leaves were blown off these trees, and there are downed limbs all over the place, with parts of the roof, side boards from the church walls, debris. Et cetera.
What does one say?
It’s depressing after awhile seeing the same piles of leaves down. The same telephone poles. The same branches.
Relatively unscathed. A lot of work to be done but the heavy damage starts just a few miles West of here. I saw it but decided not to sight see. So much to be done. So many people hurting.
Fr. John celebrated Mass and even though I was the only one in attendance – I didn’t bring an alb and was dripping with sweat – he gave a great Homily.
The Parish Cemetery is across this field. A lot of trees came down at the edges, some headstones are toppled though most are miraculously untouched.
Remnants of Storm Surge are not far from here and that post flood smell – immensely rank and a mainstay of post-Katrina living – was omnipresent along these roads and byways.
I had a great visit with Fr. John and everyone was grateful for the supplies and help. Our Parish will be sending more, and we’ll continue helping as we can.
🙏🏻