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Childhood memories, Gulfport Mississippi, Hurricane Camille, Hurricane Katrina, WordPress Daily Prompt Ode
The Daily Prompt rolled through my inbox this morning and stated: “A place from your past or childhood, one that you’re fond of, is destroyed. Write it a memorial.”
Nothing stood out as I pondered this prompt, and then I remembered my Aunt Lulu’s stately home on 668 East Beach, Gulfport, Mississippi, USA. Gulfport was a long drive from the alluvial cotton fields of my Mississippi Delta childhood, and my father made that journey about once a year to see his sister Lulu Williams Anderson. Daddy was born in 1913, and I don’t remember how much older she was than he. I do remember that she sometimes seemed – (to me, the baby child of Aunt Lulu’s baby brother) – as old as God!
Adored and respected by her younger siblings and their offspring, our vibrant matriarch presided over the Williams and Anderson clan. I remember an 80-something Aunt Lulu recalling a trip to see her dentist.
She asked, ‘Doctor, aren’t I too old to be having cavities?’ and he replied, “Miss Lulu, you’re too old to be having teeth!”
Aunt Lulu loved a good joke, loved to write poetry, and I always treasured her little booklet of limericks she called, “Jingles and Junk.”
Being a child of the Mississippi River flood plain, I loved those sultry summer trips to Gulfport where massive oak trees guarded the front entrance to her property, and a white spread-eagled ceramic cat (or was that a squirrel?) guarded one of those trees. The front drive passed beneath a side portico and stretched clear past the garage to the next street! In my eyes, Aunt Lulu was a baroness!
Although her home dripped with a relaxed well-bred comfort, the gardens captivated me! While the adults escaped the heat in the comfort of air-conditioned rooms, I explored the stately grounds. Always-running sprinkler systems spurt spurt spurted droplets of water across thirsty lawns and ancient azaleas. Multi-colored roses and elegant gardenias permeated the air with sweet fragrance. The gnarled oak trees stretched their limbs to the skies before gravity pulled the lower branches back toward the ground.
Blow-up floats. badminton sets and crab traps were carefully stored for her guests’ amusement, and at times she’d scoop us up and take us to the Yacht Club for lunch. Even as a child, I was always happier in the little oasis of her gardens than rubbing elbows with the affluent! I suspect that her attempts at domesticating that youngest Williams girl fell short!
Across the four-lane highway was that giant pool of water known as the Gulf of Mexico. I never particularly liked crossing that busy highway or exploring the beach. At times I endured walks with my sisters or cousins, but I was happiest when we crossed back through the sand burs and rinsed off beneath the sprinklers. I basked beneath the canopy of that shaded oasis where pink and blue hydrangeas glowed from the shadows and complimented the forever-smiling daylilies that thrived in the sunshine.
My favorite quiet spot inside the house was the cozy library, complete with a butler’s closet/wet bar – what a novelty for this farm girl! Aunt Lulu referred to it as the club room; my interest focused on the design of the bar, cleverly tucked behind French doors when not in use. A side door opened onto a garden room filled with ferns and tropical plants. Visiting with grownups on that side porch always made me itchy to venture into the gardens instead of sitting pretty behind the screens and glass. I often retreated to the library and perused those volumes of books. My dear aunt surely read and treasured each one, and she even authored my most favorite one!
My sleeping quarters often changed; sometimes Aunt Lulu shared her bedroom suite, complete with two high-rise beds, a sitting area, and a pink-tiled powder room fit for a Hollywood movie star! We often read for an hour or so as the air conditioning fogged the windows and sent me burrowing beneath the covers for warmth! I usually drifted to sleep while the ten p.m news programs kept Aunt Lulu informed on world and local events.
I sometimes slept like a princess in the guest room’s canopied bed! Other times I was the only soul sleeping upstairs in a house built for society. I didn’t particularly like sleeping up there, though to my now-distant memory, I never whined or complained.
In August 1969, Hurricane Camille roared ashore and left her swath of destruction, The storm surge moved the front porch to the back yard, although Aunt Lulu’s fortress held strong. One neighbor’s house was demolished and the other’s boat made a new nest in Aunt Lulu’s stately oak tree!
Camille, that grande dame of modern storms, set the bar for hurricanes that followed. Toddy-time talk in my parent’s circle of friends often rolled ’round to Remembering Camille, who hurled a tornado so strong that it rolled like a bowling ball north from the Yazoo River and left miles of trees, homes and power lines in its wake. The destruction left behind by that tornado seemed to equal that of Camille through my wide thirteen-year-old eyes.
36 years rolled by; my sisters and I replaced Aunt Lulu and Daddy as the oldest generation on the Charlie Boy Williams branch of the family tree. Cousin Ann Anderson continued Aunt Lulu’s legacy on the Gulf Coast. Then along came Katrina.
Katrina – that’s all one has to say. I was living in Costa Rica and watched via internet as Katrina’s swollen mass slowly trekked toward the Louisiana-Mississippi coast line. I knew that many would evacuate, and feared that many would also stay put. Internet images and reports were bleak; Katrina stepped up to bat and claimed the new title for the mother of all hurricanes. Family members wrote to say that the house on 668 East Beach was destroyed. “Ann has been on the national news programs each day,” my sisters reported.

Living off the map isolates one from current events. World news often takes days or weeks to reach remote areas.
Several days passed before I saw live coverage of Katrina’s wrath. Tired and sweaty after shoveling gravel all morning, I stopped my truck in front of the tiny all-in-one store/restaurant/bar in town. My friend Olman anchored his normal place at the end of the bar, and sweet Denise chattered happily from behind the bar.
I ordered a cold cervesa and was standing near the television when the noon news flashed to live coverage of Karina’s wrath. I endured the images for about thirty seconds before bursting into tears. Dennis dashed to the kitchen and retrieved a bowl of hot soup, while Olman quickly ordered a second cervesa, I declined both; the soup was too hot for my overheated thermostat, and I needed no additional depressant to affect my grief. Between sobs, I asked if they’d turn off the television, and I wept. Aware that Denise and Olman loved me, and that my despair for my homeland was a normal reaction, I purged my grief and eventually managed to find my smile.
Photos had not prepared me for the visual shock of a destroyed landscape that stretched its fingers across many of my childhood haunts.
One of those casualties, of course, was Aunt Lulu’s home at 668 East Beach.
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(Since the Daily Prompt’s deadline is quite short, I retrieved information from old dormant memories that are now quite foggy and dreamlike in certain details. All mistakes are mine! Z )
A wonderful memorial and a wonderful honouring of your memories.
thank you; i’m travelling and don’t have access to photos that would make it a bit more interesting.
i loved my time with aunt lulu!
z
I have been in Biloxi for the last 20 years. Your story touched me. We lost our home to Katrina. I also just realized that your artwork has a resemblance to Walter Anderson’s art. He is from Ocean Springs. Your crab above could have been by his hands. Are you related? Mike
Hey! What a surprise to have your report from Biloxi! I have always been fond of Walter Anderson’s work – and his story, which is equally unique. There is no family connection; my aunt married into the Anderson family -( the LW Anderson research library allows her memory to live on.)
when i read the stories of walter anderson’s immersion in nature, how the birds in particular captivated him, i reflect on my own life and how the pelicans, frigates and other water birds here in my back ‘yard’ of a river are forever distracting me as well. he was quite eccentric and oftentimes tormented, though his studies and writings were also quite brilliant. there are times when i abandon my task a hand and go watch the birds for a rapt half hour or more. there was one pelican that swam across the river and waddled up those huge boulders and stared at me several different times a few months ago. i am still baffled about that experience. perhaps it was ole walter asking why wasn’t i taking advantage of studying them in greater detail?!!
although i admired Anderson’s art, i was always a traditional painter and looked to winslow homer, andrew & nc weyeth and robert bateman for inspiration. the mola series swept over me like a huge tidal surge and pointed me in a totally different direction.
thank you so much for your comment. i am so sorry that you lost your home, and i apologize if this opened old wounds.
z
It is bad when cherished people and places are gone or demolished, but at least we remember. Nice post, Z.
thank you; and thankfully those people and places live on in our hearts, as if it were yesterday when all was intact.
Beautiful story, thank you for sharing it.
thanks amiga
i started this before i left home, then traveled that afternoon and finished late last night. it didn’t make it to the ‘pingbacks’ on WP ‘ode’ prompt page, and i am going to see what happens if i insert the link here.
i suspect many times it’s the sluggish internet that trips me. do you have faster service now?
z
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/01/28/daily-prompt-ode/
I hesitate saying I enjoyed this story. Hurricanes are so destructive. But I really enjoyed how you told it.
I have never experienced hurricane-force winds, and I hope that I never have that first-person story to share with others. Tornadoes I’ve experienced, which are frightening, though they’re here and then gone, unlike what it must be like to bunker down and endure while wondering what the landscape will look like when it’s over.
A beautiful revisiting of a treasured childhood memory Lisa. I wept too when i returned to my childhood home to find it changed irrevocably.
I would love to hear that story – read that story, though it’s painful sometimes to reopen those wounds. Other times it’s a catharsis. I realized while writing this, that this story has been patiently waiting its turn.
thanks for your comment!
Lisa/z
Here is the link: http://theurgetowander.com/2012/05/14/memories/
It WAS cathartic Lisa
oh my. i suspect i should be prepared to cry.
am about to head to a meeting and might wait til its finished to savor this and perhaps purge a few tears.
thanks so much for the link!
lisa/z
A magnificent memorial to what seems to be a most worthy subject. Your Aunt Lulu sounds like a true grit kind of woman. Your words capture so much of the feelings from happy to sad to heart-wrenching. This sounds like the beginnings of a southern girls novel. Maybe the talent grew from Aunt Lulu and her Jingles and Junk. I wish I could have read that. Beautiful post, z. If it were a book, I wouldn’t want to put it down! 🙂
wow, gemma! what a delightful ‘first read’ for my morning!
yes, there was so much more to tell, to allow others to peer through my country-girl eyes into the life of an amazing mentor. “Miss Lula” was a unique woman, and my father was equally unique. I hope they are smiling down and saying, ‘That’s our baby gal!”
Z
It’s an amazing story…. and you write very well, with details and dates and all. 🙂 I love this post.
thank you! i wrote part in the morning before leaving on a short trip. i walked part of the way to town (with mud boots and bag over my shoulder!) then traveled by bus, mini van bus and a third bus until reaching my destination at dark! after dinner i replied to comments, read posts and resumed this one. ah, twas a long day, and i am so glad that you enjoyed it. 668 east beach was a story waiting to be told! i’m hoping that a few of the Gulf Coast folks will share their stories of enduring hurricanes.
You have had a rich life. A beautiful life that, undoubtedly, would have had its ups and downs… all lives do. You also express yourself well. Thought about doing a book…an e-book?
With your super pictures….? A suggestion of course!
i’m honored. thank you so much.
i am slowly working on a children’s book with a strong environmental slant. it’s hard to reach adults who have a calloused wall of indifference to change, but if we can reach the children and make the story stick…… i have hopes.
thank you so much for your kind words, and i will keep them close to my heart.
may LIFE smile on you as you smile on others,
Lisa/z
A children’s book is a great idea. Love it…
I used to write children’s stories when my son was little. As he grew, my stories grew up with him and eventually, I stopped doing children’s stories, because I wanted to focus on poetry.
But I remember the sheer joy of writing for children. 🙂
Good luck with your book… keep me posted… I will be cheering for you from across the world…:)
Ahh, what a wonderful revelation of our connection. I adored this piece. My son lived in Gulfport for a few years. He loved it as did I. It was the first time I considered moving to the South.
wow. the city of gulfport might want to use you as a walking testimonial, not only for the city but also for southern hospitality!
thanks so much for the comment! z
What a heartfelt story, Lisa. While the forces of nature can remove old stately homes like Aunt Lulus on 668 east beach, it leaves the memories, especially the good ones, intact. You have a gift for writing.
thank you, lynne, for your kind words. i enjoyed tapping into that vein of memories, though many details were foggy. i see how easy it would be to roll those memories and embellish them for a story of fiction.
i’m sure you have some unique hurricane stories as well,and none need to be embellished!
i
I seemed to have missed the destructive ones and thankful for that.
I hope that you never have to endure that experience. z
An incredible story beautifully told.
Thank you for that lovely comment! Lisa
Lovely remembrances! I remember Camille….Very sad that the grand old home is gone! It does live on in your heart!
thanks! yes, that home will always be there, though it was a pretty sobering peek to zero-in via google earth and take a virtual stroll through that desecrated area.
I must add to the chorus of kudos – it’s wonderful story. The crab and the – Bird of Paradise flower? – are gorgeous! I spent 2 wks each spring at my grandparents beautiful home on Sea Island, in Georgia, and it was a little like what you describe. It too is gone, for me, though there’s still a home there, it’s not at all what it was, and the island has lost its wild places – the places I would seek out, the places that influenced me. You did a service by writing this.
thank you for your kind words; it’s always nice when someone speaks up to confirm that i am not the only one affected by change, and the memories of those places when they were balms for our souls.
the painting of the flowers is a section of a large acrylic painting of native heliconias. bird of paradise is in that same family, as are bananas!
z
Z, thanks for sharing this. I like you favorite room. Best rgeards, BTG
Ah, the comfort of a small book-filled room!!! thanks! z
Your remembrances story reminded me part of childhood. Those sweet memories used to bring me laughter, now bring me tears… Beautifully written. Thank you for sharing, z!
thank you so much; sometimes those tears represent a much-needed catharsis. release them and purge. in our hearts we will forever be able to open those memories and live in those special places; then we wrap them back up like pretty little presents and store them away until we reminisce again! z
The pretty little presents become more and more precious as time goes by… I’m touched by your beautiful words. Thank you, z!
wow, amy said almost the same thing. maybe one has to have a greater span of years before we can reopen those memories and dwell in them and smile. i must admit that i was again swallowing tears when recalling that moment of seeing katrina’s damage..
Katrina was just too brutal. You can re-build houses, but not people’s memories and sentiments…
Sometimes memories are painful and for many of us H. Katrina was something out of a horror movie; yours is a heartfelt story that is filled with reverence, grief and a sad acknowledgement of yesterday. I was in New Orleans three weeks before she struck and will not forget the lovely homes I was in, they no longer exist. So many lives up-ended, many have left the region never to return again. Gosh, your story brought up a lot of understanding and so many sad memories – bless your heart life is hard.
that must have been spooky to watch the destruction so soon after you’d visited that area. you have such a kind and compassionate heart! thanks for your comment’! z
What a bittersweet memory of a great family place. Luckily, even though the house is destroyed, your memories will always be intact. Especially now that you’ve written this post. 🙂
i think sometimes we have to ‘get away’ before we can reminisce and realize what was special about our early years. you probably wistfully think of special places from your vantage point in oman.
Oh yes, you’re right, Lisa. I am nostalgic for so much from home. 🙂
That is a beautifully told story of a time that was so different to todays mad scramble. Your description of the house and garden paint pictures in my mind.How you must’ve loved going to see your Aunt Lulu.
aunt lulu also had a plantation in louisiana, and spent time with her there when i was growing up. how well i remember a road trip we took to ‘hodges gardens’ and there was the most amazing display of tulips in bloom! yes, i loved those special times with aunt lulu. thanks so much!
lisa/z
What an interesting life you have had, and it continues, you should write your memoires. Aunt Lulu (even the name) sounds like a scene from “gone with the wind” Was it a cotton plantation?
oh yes; she had beautiful cotton ground, and she also had oil wells tucked here and there! the plantation house was on an old mississippi river ox-bow lake with cypress trees and spanish moss.
how’s your weather now?
Have you any photos of that era? they would make a fabulous post. Are the oil wells still producing,is it still in your family?
It rained again last night but only 25mm. every thing slowly coming back to normal here, but oh those poor people both north and south of us have a mammoth task to clean up. Our “mud-army” is moving in to help clean up. That is what they call the hundreds of volunteers that just turn up with shovels, brooms and enthusiasm to help their Australian brothers and sisters. It brings a lump to my throat to see this spirit emerge in times of disaster
that brought a lump in my throat too. please write a post about the mud army! what an amazing example that would set for the world!
i helped an older couple clean up once after a flood in costa rica. i peeked inside to check on them, and they had one family member helping.. of course i helped.. her phone kept ringing, and she would tell them that i was there helping, and within the next half hour, there were many people there helping!!!! sometimes it just takes the gesture to remind others that maybe they should lend a helping hand!
the mud army..i’m going to google that! thanks so much for sharing that!
It takes a disaster to bring out the caring and humanitarian side of people when every one puts aside their differences to help those in need. Nature constantly throws these challenges at us, maybe it is to teach us a lesson…
What a terrible thing to have to live through, though you still have those wonderful memories. I also had an Aunt Lulu! She was married to my Uncle Jack and they lived in a huge house with a pool in Pennsylvania that we loved to visit. It always struck me as the coolest and most pleasant place on earth.
having an aunt lulu is like living in a dickens novel! i am glad that you’ve had that experience as well. i’m sure that was a fine old home with lots of mysterious rooms that provided fodder for a young creative mind. we’re so lucky to have had experiences that enriched and shaped the people we became.
You made me cry….I am glad you shared this story with us, your aunt Lulu is smiling at all the wonderful memories you both share. Sometimes life can be hard but it makes us who we are, but if we focus on the beautiful memories that what makes it worth it.
Dear sweet Doris!
You have such a kind and tender heart. Lo siento – i am sorry that this triggered tears; my own memories of grief must have found their way to your heart.
You are so right – life can be hard, but we become stronger people because of those challenges.
Thank you for sharing.
Lisa
What wonderful memories and so beautifully described. Your story is compelling and at the end, heart-rendng. I too had a favourite aunt whose house I adored to visit. When she died long before her time, I was heartbroken. I so missed visiting her, and all the treats she laid on for my sister and I. It seems like another life time, but I’ll never forget her. Sometimes the end of an era arrives much too soon, and we’re just not prepared for it.
thank you for this comment; yes, when we lose loved ones, some of us realize that we can’t go back and do more… we become more sensitive and remember to treasure our time with the ones we still have.
how tragic for you to lose your aunt way too soon. it seems sometimes, as we walk around in a grief-stricken daze, as if the scripts got mixed up.
So true, but that’s life. 🙂
A beautifully written story Z and a very touching tribute.
thank you; this one flowed w/few problems, aside from those distant details that were a bit foggy. z
Lisa, I have been through Biloxi many times when I was stationed in Pensacola, NAS in Florida. My friends from the barracks and I would drive all night to get to a little place called Deridder, LA. It was home to my friend Jennifer Fontinot. Such a beautiful place. I feel your sadness. I’m sorry.
deridder – i have a friend who was from deridder – or she had family there – (iles) .. that was quite the drive to see your friend, who surely appreciated your visits!
thanks for adding your memories to this post! the gulf coast touched many of us! z
Some times I just follow, my pommepal, Pauline’s coverage of things. As you know from an old post of mine I am her shadow. As we like the same things it is easy to just tag along. If I do not always comment or put a like on your post it is not because I have not read it and enjoyed it. This time you picked an appropriate subject for the east coast of Aussie, not only the weather but your picture of the Helconia it looks just like the one in our garden.
what a sweet comment! thank you! it’s interesting how so much of the tropical landscape is the same world wide. i love the native heliconias and love setting up and working from life.
yes, your country has had a tough kicking,and i hope that everyone recovers from the damage.
it’s so nice to know both of you, and i am comforted knowing that you are there for her, through good times and bad!
z
you’ve written a great tribute to Aunt Lulu’s fortress!
thanks! it was like a castle in a fairy tale!
wow.. that triggered another memory of another mentor! so many subjects for posts,so many paintings to paint, so many birds to watch and flowers to tend… i am so lucky!
tis a good thing i don’t play the guitar – i might abandon the above and focus on that for a long stretch of time! i’ll let you keep strumming great music and i’ll paint and write with a frizztext soundtrack!
z
Hey Sis, just wanted to let you know that when I was down on the coast helping with the aftermath of Katrina, I went by Aunt Lulu’s and wandered around the remains of her home. This was in December so pretty much everything had been scoured through, but I still wandered about the shell of what used to be her home. I found a few bits and pieces of things from the house, nothing significant, but thought I would pass the remains on to you if it doesn’t cost too much to ship it to you. Are you coming to the states anytime in the next 6 months or so??? Love you, Pat
I would LOVE to have a fragment of that old house! I’m surprised there’s something still there.. Do you have photos?
I’m still working on the visa, but i certainly hope to be home whenever i clear those hurdles to come and go as I please. I have so much to do here concerning my future, but I also need to come back and see everyone, etc etc…
Thanks so much for this comment!
Love,
Lisa
Your Aunt Lulu sounds like a true southern charmer!
She was ‘larger than life’ and quite the force of a strong woman!
What a bitter sweet share…. I can’t imagine the sadness of memories lost.
But those memories remain alive in our hearts as if it were just yesterday.
My goodness! I just can’t seem to keep up with all these challenge posts. But I did have to read this, and let you know how much I appreciate it. It always saddened me that, after Katrina, our media insisted on keeping New Orleans the center of the universe. There was almost no coverage of the destruction in Mississippi, and I know it stung the people there.
As you so well describe, there was – is – life in Mississippi that’s fully as rich, as varied and as historically significant as anything found in NOLA. Beyond that, people are people – and the quiet, strong ones often don’t get the coverage they deserve precisely because they are quiet and strong. They don’t complain, and they do what’s necessary to begin again – helping one another rather than waiting on someone to do the work for them.
As a matter of fact, I suspect your time with your Aunt Lulu did much to prepare you for your current life. What I just wrote about “strong, quiet ones” calls to mind several of the posts you’ve offered about your life there. In a world filled with squabbles of “independence” versus “dependence”, nearly everyone seems to have forgotten about the joys and value of “interdependence”. The house, the library, the people may be gone, but the values remain. 😉
Are you talking about Lulu who lived next door to the Sheeleys. They had 2 daughters, Bonnie and Mary D.. Also are your cousins Ann and Ellen?
it’s been about fifteen years since i’ve seen ann, and a much-longer time since i’ve seen ellen! lulu was my father’s half sister, and we all adored that tall strong-willed matriarch of the williams family that goes back to benoit mississippi.
thanks so much for your comment!
lisa/z
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Great piece of writing. Mississippi memories so remindful of Faulkner.
Don! HOw lovely of you to leave this comment.. yes, Mississippi territory stretches from Katrina’s Gulf Coast to Faulkner’s Oxford and New Albany. We even have Elvis Presley’s birthplace! Thank you Don!