Welcome

WELCOME!! to the Lamp Lighters BLOG, where we are sharing our experiences in volunteering in the Biloxi, Mississippi area.

NEW! We are back home now. In the weeks that follow, I will be continuing to post photos and stories as I can get to them. I will try to upload our team photos and worksites first, so that friends and families and perhaps future teams can see what we have been doing. But I also have hundreds of photos of the devastation, and in the hope that I can bring even a little understanding about the scope of it all, I will be posting those. And there is so much to write about, too. Most of it will be about the hope that I saw, for it is definitely there amidst the rubble.

The most recent posts will appear on top; you will have to scroll down or click on a post heading (see sidebar) to go to earlier posts. There are many more posts than appear on the sidebar; check the archives if you cannot see the posts by scrolling down the page.

Included in the posts are profiles of the team members from the Connecticut District of the New York Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church, and descriptions of what we have been doing.

Please leave us comments and messages! You can also leave a message by using my email address: elizabethhokama@yahoo.com.

Sheltered Lives

As I snuggle under my blankets tonight (thermostat set on 55), I have a new, or renewed attitude about what is essential, about what is truly home, what is necessary, what brings hope, what is too much.

One cannot help such thoughts having seen so many homes destroyed or damaged into uninhabitability, knowing that people have been dispersed to places they had not expected or wanted. My two-bedroom condo now seems so spacious, so solid, so extravagant. Snacking on chocolate while watching t.v. and typing on a laptop: luxurious if not ostentatious.

Tonight my prayers are for the people whose homes were destroyed or made uninhabitiable by Katrina. I photographed many in Mississippi, only a small portion pictured here. My heart goes out to you, and hope that you are safe, and warm, and fed, and with your family. I wish for you a good night's sleep. And a job to go to tomorrow. God has many blessings for you; know that you are not forgotten.

Thank You

Thank you, Mr. Seawright and Rev. Moses (more often called by us as Loyce and Moses), for inviting us to your church and to your mission which has become our mission. We'll be back as soon as we can!

For the Church People

Six southern Mississippi United Methodist churches were destroyed by Hurricane Katrina: Leggett Memorial, Biloxi; St. Rock United Methodist Church, Biloxi; Mount Zion, DeLisle; St. Paul, Pass Christian; Safe Harbor, Escatawpa; and Pearlington United Methodist Church. In addition, the Seashore Mission in Biloxi was destroyed.

Along Beach Boulevard (I-90) for about a 20-mile stretch, I discovered the remains of several other churches, shown here. Today, my prayers are for the people of these churches: alive, missing, or Gone to Glory.

NYAC Team Seven 27 January 2006

A final group photo before our departure from St. Paul's

Probably each member of our group, the Lamp Lighters of the Connecticut District, New York Annual Conference, helped St. Paul's UMC itself in some way. Pete, Don, Martin, Paul, and Mel (and no doubt, more) helped hang sheet rock in three of the rooms. Rachel, Mel, and I removed insulation and debris; I removed mildew from the walls of two rooms. We prepped walls for painting, cleaned and organized several rooms, and removed trash. Several of us will also be raising money for the church choir, which needs a piano, organ, and/or electronic keyboard.

Willy's Team

L-R: Steve, Martin, Rachel, Paul, Willy, Karen, Amy, Stoddard, Beth

Steve is standing partially in the hall where Willy stood during the storm until the water began to rise; he then went to a bedroom to stand on his bed. Willy says he next would have broken into the attic if the water had risen further. Without being asked, Willy states he didn't leave his house during the storm because "It's a guy thing."

Fred's Team

First Row: Peg, Martin, Chuck, Ruthann, Carolyn, Stoddard

Second Row: Steve, Pete, Diane, Don, Libby, Dave, Fred, Jerry, Van

Diana's Team

Rachel, Peg, Mel (on conference call with Diana who was unable to join us); Paul (kneeling), Karen, Steve, Amy, Martin, Beth, and Pete

Our team felt honored to be asked by Mr. Seawright to work on his own daughter's place.

Thank You Edward Walker

Fans of TLC's Trading Spaces will recognize designer Edward Walker. I have admired his elegant style and southern manners for a long time, and when realizing that he was on our flight from Biloxi, I deduced he must have been rennovating a home or two in the Biloxi area. I asked him if he had an entire house down to the studs to work with, and essentially, he did, or at least down to the dry wall. He said that two home owners, miles apart from Biloxi and from Gulfport, were the subject of an episode that had just wrapped and would probably air March 4.

Ever the gentleman (I was talking to him while he was arranging his seat assignment), he politely asked what I had been doing and I told him a little about our group. He seemed genuinely pleased and said he was coming back down in April to work with a Baptist men's group.

Edward, if you do make it to this blog, again, thank you. And by the way, I read your bio and want you to know that my parents spent their honeymoon and first couple of years of married life in your hometown of Silacauga, AL, where my father was a chemist during WWII (before leaving for medical school.) Thank you for proving to the world that Alabamans are among the most caring and well-mannered people on earth.
Second photo by Peg

My Name is Melvin Hal-lay-LOO-yah!!!

During our last evening together, Ruthellen, Peg, Amy, and Carolyn (especially Ruthellen and Carolyn) gathered us together for a "high school yearbook" type fest where "awards" were handed out, along with "prizes". Due to his notoriety for getting lost, Mel was awarded a sign to be pinned to his shirt. "My name is Melvin. Please deliver me to Simsbury, CT. Hallelujah!" Here, Pete and Peg dutifully obey the sign, at least as far as Bradley airport and into the arms of Mel's wife, Dorothy. The "Hallelujah" part of this story derives from a local radio station, "92.5 Hal-lay-LOO-yah" which has a DJ who just loves to shout the Hallelujah when announcing the station name. Mel and I were listening to this station while taping sheetrock at St. Paul's UMC, and Mel took up the Hallelujah chorus from then on. Be prepared, Simsbury UMC; you will no doubt hear him do this a lot. Hope you enjoy it as much as we have, as it always brings us smiles.

Fred's Front Room

Fred's place is essentially five rooms; two rooms wide, two rooms deep, and one long room across the back. Think double-wide trailer, and you have the approximate dimensions. The walls are not square with the floor and ceiling, causing numerous difficulties for anyone working here. But the crews working with Fred try so hard to get it right, or at least improve upon what is there, and in that effort they succeed very well.

This view is from the kitchen looking toward the front door. Fred has talked about his plans for replacing his furniture and decorating the place; hopefully various crew members will share some of what Fred has told them.

Fred in FEMA Land

Fred has a large side lot next to his place, and has his FEMA trailer parked a few yards from his house. He tends to a maintenance issue in this photo.

Fred's View from his Back Yard

About six feet from Fred's back wall is a chain link fence, and over that fence you can see what his yard once looked like. Debris, trees, strange things everywhere.

Demon Room

Dave will have to tell this story, as I won't do this justice. But, I'll give you a hint. As you walk into the first room on your left as you enter Fred's Place, you encounter what has been lovingly (or otherwise) been named as the "Demon Room." Apparently, several unusual things have happened in this room. And one day, Dave was found muttering to some entity in the corner of it, mildly alarming or amusing his teammates. Chuck is said to have performed an exorcism here...

Fred, however, is quite pleased with this room, and looks forward to finishing it off. He promises pictures of it in its finished state.

Rocking and Shooting in Fred's Back Room

Martin contemplates the next piece of sheet rock. He has been voted "best rocker" by his team mates, an honor of truly great distinction. You can see evidence of Libby's handiwork behind him. She meticulously stapled in the tarpaper and insulation for this rather large room (by Fred's Place standards), and finally found a smaller stapler that made her life a bit easier. Libby was voted "Best Shooter" for her stapling abilities.

Corporate

Jerry often took flak for being the assistant team leader. You can't exactly blow off steam or blame your pastor for anything, so Jerry got to be the target at times. One of Jerry's many jobs was to go check on the various jobsites. Busy with the task at hand, someone would be bound to mutter "Corporate" at Jerry's approach, following by some joke about where has he really been lately--trips offsite being a luxury.

But Jerry proved his mettle with the construction skills with a great sense of humor. Here, he says he "measured 2,500 times and cut 5,000 times." Van, the masked man, holds the counter steady.

Finishing up

Jerry slides in the last piece of counter-top.

Fred's Kitchen

Strange and beautiful things happen at Fred's Place. Most of the team ended up working at Fred's house one time or another, and all felt very fortunate to have done so. Even though it has one or maybe more "demon rooms" (ask Dave or Chuck about this.) Fred has this way of making each and every person feel very special even though you've just met him, and even if you are not one of the ones there to work on his place--work for which he is extremely grateful.

The Memorial United Methodist Church (in Avon) donated the funds for the cabinets you see here; parishioners Ruthellen and Martin spent many an hour working with Fred in this kitchen and elsewhere in the modest but well-loved home.

Standby for technical difficulties...

I've been spending the last hour trying to upload photos and the connection keeps getting lost. Not sure what the message in that is to me, except to wrap it up and try again later. But I don't know when "later" is, as my next opportunity to work in a Wi Fi zone may not be until I get in an airport or home.

I have several hundred photos stored on my hard drive right now. That is a LOT of editing, of course. The writing will continue for some days, probably weeks or months. But as soon as I land in Connecticut I have to return to the business of making a living, and with a trial next week, I don't know when I'll get this finished.

But, I'll try my best!

I hope to include as many of our team's photos and stories as possible. Their perspective and better photography will no doubt much improve this blog.

Love and peace to you all. And may you keep the people of Mississippi, and the volunteers who work here, in your hearts and prayers.

Elizabeth

Picassos

The Picassos of our team, Diane and Ruthellen, have become experts in mudding and covering those little mistakes others may have left behind. They take pride in their work, and, like everyone else who has worked at Fred's place, they've become almost obsessively loyal to Fred.

Winding Down

Today is our last full day here. That makes it a really tough day for most, if not all, of us. We are winding down our work at the various worksites; getting ready to say good-bye to the homeowners we've been helping; envying those teams who will stay here after we leave; feeling the frustration of all that there is left to do; and knowing that this experience has changed our lives completely.

The worksites will be shutting down at noon today, and we'll head to what is left of a beach area (it is officially still closed due to contamination and such) for a picnic lunch. We'll be sitting in a parking lot, away from the sand that we should really not walk upon. The area is still bereft of sailboats, casino barges, people sunbathing and shell-gathering. But you can perhaps appreciate what the scenery was like once, long ago.

Maybe we'll hear the sound of construction from where we'll be, and I suspect we'll have mixed emotions about that. You do want to cheer for reconstruction and new jobs, and an invigorated economy, after all. But it also means that something was lost first, before the rebuilding. And it means that life here will be completely different.

Oh my...

As I was writing the above, several people in Java Joe's stopped by my table where I've been writing so many times this past week. They hug me. They thank me profusely. They express, once again as so many people have down here, that they are touched and surprised to see us here, and that they are so very grateful. They say that sometimes it just seems like the world has forgotten them, but then they see the volunteers (and sadly, they say, there are so few volunteers) and they know that someone out there cares. The last woman I just spoke to said that she is praying for me, that I have brought blessings here, and that she knows that somehow the stories of people here are reaching others "out there."

Honestly, it is just about all I can do to keep from crying. But there is work to do, and not much time left to do it in. I think I'll just post some photos for a while...

Coming Home - by Cassandra

I have been trying to corner Cassandra all week long enough to take her picture, see how she is doing, what she thinks. She is, after all, a very instrumental part of getting many of us here. And she is the one with the closest ties to Mississippi, having grown up here, educated here (through college undergrad), played here, prayed here. I finally gave her my laptop one night after she was headed for bed (her cot is just a couple of feet from my air mattress) and asked her to write.

Coming Home

As we drove along the beach from the airport on our first day here, I looked to my right to see the sparkling water of the Mississippi Gulf and seagulls in the distance. But, it’s not the same scene that I remember from years past. Things are different now. The beautiful homes that I once could see on my left consist primarily of front steps that lead to nowhere. The beachfront is now void of sailboats, beach umbrellas and children playing in the sand. I have found myself crying with others here, not only for the destruction that surrounds us, but also for times past - days of family outings, merry-go-round rides on the Biloxi beach, and "crab trapping"in Pass Christian. Things have changed and they will never be the same again. Cassandra 1-23-06

Cassandra has partially worked through her grief for the destruction and the people here by working incredibly hard. Stoddard told me on Monday when I was working at the Bay St. Louis location to watch Cassandra and make sure she doesn't work too hard. Hard to do, as she is a self-described "flea", fltting here and there, not londing in one place for very long. There is much she wants to accomplish in the Main Street Methodist Day Care center which has become Cassandra's pet project. Yesterday, I dropped in again on the project, this time to take photos rather than sand and clean and stain doors, which I had done on Monday. Scroll down to see the photos.

Main Street Methodist Day Care 24 January 2006

I had to nearly threaten this group to get them to let me take their photo. Almost to a person, they are shy, and at this point just wanting to get back to base camp after a long day.
L-R: Beth, Carolyn, Peg, Cassandra, Stoddard, and Pete.
This tombstone is in the cemetery across the street from the back of the daycare center. I think it to be a very apt description of the crew who is working at Bay St. Louis, as they are a hard-working, quiet bunch.
At the end of the workday, Pete is not ready to go. While the others begin loading the van with equipment, Pete cuts a square in the drywall located in a closet. His intent is to prepare for installation of a child's sink and vanity. He tells me he thinks he can finish the job the next day, and has me take a closeup (not shown) so that he can show Jerry and explain what he plans to do.


Stoddard installs a bathroom stall.

More Photos of Bay St. Louis Worksite

Several doors are propped on chairs to dry. They have been sanded after a tedious prepping which includes tape and staple removing, plus removal of gunk and black marks and such. Then follows a staining process with Minwax. The staff is thrilled with this, saying the doors look better than before the storm hit.
Two of the most over-qualified but hardest-working furniture assemblers in Bay St. Louis are Cassandra, Ph.D., and Beth, M.D.
Carolyn and Peg work closely together on this classroom door, which, like most of the other doors, has many pieces of adhesive tape almost bonded to the wood. Removal of the tape is a tedious process; when I worked on such a door the other day, I was mentally wanting to tongue-lash all the people over the years who had left the tape on the door. Of course, I am sure I have done such a thing many a time without thinking. Not anymore!
Here, Pete works in one of the classrooms. One of the former daycare teachers stopped by the other day to see if she might still have a job, and was thrilled to see the condition of the school now.
You know how the kids have a "lock-in" sometimes; the adults get to live a version of the experience when they go to work out of a Methodist Church site. Here, in the sanctuary of Main Street Methodist in Bay St. Louis, you will find several air mattresses on the floor, and many sleeping bags on the pews. The same is true back at St. Paul's UMC in Biloxi.

This is the underside of part of a tree stump dumped on the site of what at one time was a street about one block from the water and two blocks from the daycare center. The tree it came from (along with the roots) had floated to this spot from a location over two blocks away.

I had taken this photo yesterday while visiting the area, but learned today that this stump is what remains of the tree that was shipped to Mystic, Connecticut for use in ship-building there. I'm not certain if the bike, fence and iron grille work traveled along with the stump, or were dumped there later.

Metamorphosis

Biloxi had previously only allowed gambling by way of casinos built on the water. This was often (usually?) accomplished by constructing buildings on top of barges. Katrina deposited some of these gigantic structures across I-90, dumping them on the other side onto other structures, including hotels. Here, one such barge casino is being deconstructed and compacted down into about three-foot cubes.

I wonder what the next life of the steel will be?


Check out the scale of this casino-on-a-barge by comparing it to the steam shovel. This is about half of the length of the structure pictured here.

High Water

Five months later, you can still see how high the water was from the debris in the trees that line I-90.

Welcomed Interruptions

Eucharist Rogers

While sitting at the first table at Java Joe's--the only spot with an electrical outlet next to it--I am in a position where people stop by to talk to me. Some are curious about what I'm doing; others want to know about blogging; still others want to know where all the Wi-Fi zones are in the area. But, mostly, it is the "regulars" who want and need to talk.

I came down here expecting to be assigned to people to listen to as a part of a "listening team". But we haven't completed other commitments first in order to get over to the church where this was to happen. Not to worry. I do my "job" right here.

I met Mr. St. Armand the first day here. I guess that he is in his mid-80's. Originally from New Orleans, he calls me "Chere" [pronounced "share"] and after ascertaining no wedding ring on my finger, proceeds to flirt. Very upbeat, he says he has lost everything, but has his health and happiness so actually hasn't lost a thing at all. He saddens only when talking about his wife whom he describes only as "disabled." His son is mourning the loss of his childhood things, including photos, and hasn't listened yet to his Daddy who tells him that he still has his memories and should be thankful. A couple of days later, at a time when Java Joe's was closed but McDonald's Wi-Fi zone beckoned, in walked Mr. St. Armand while I was there. He let out a belly laugh and said "Chere! You waited for me!" It seems that he needs his coffee like I need an internet fix for my blog.

Yesterday, a man waiting for his coffee at the counter mentioned to someone he had his car in a repair shop in Hartford. "Connecticut?" I asked, introducing myself as being from Simsbury. His blank look told me he wasn't familiar with northwestern Connecticut, so I did a little explaining, and so did he. We exchanged email addresses (I'm collecting a lot of them for follow-up reporting) and cut our conversation short when my friend Barbara walked in. But I had learned he was originally from San Diego, had his dog kenneled in Vermont, his car repaired in Hartford, had visited his daughter in Tampa, had a conversion experience in New Orleans, and was looking for work, housing, and a woman in Biloxi--the latter three via the internet.

Just now, I met a FEMA worker named Eucharist Rogers. Dispelling at least one rumor about FEMA workers, Eucharist's house still is unrepaired, and she is on a three-month waiting list for an electrician. She is working 11 hour days, and is usually too exhausted to attend to the necessary cleaning and mucking in her home to have it considered for any of the volunteer rebuilding going on in the area. She is both too poor--even with her job--and lacking in time to see to private contractors. So, for now, she remains in her FEMA trailer. We have a mutual acquaintance--Jacquelyn Wright--who will rate a story all her own when I can get to it. [I referred to her a little in an earlier blog post.]

Earlier this morning, a woman walked in and apologized to Sherry for not having been in before today [since the storm.] "I am SO glad to see that you have re-opened," she said, adding that since the library hadn't opened yet she was out of a job. I asked her what she does with her time now and she says "I live in my FEMA trailer and most days just wander around, dazed, in a stupor." She says that while the library only received about 27 inches of water, many of the books may be ruined by mildew. She thinks the library should be opened by November. Given the nice weather outside, it takes me a moment to realize that November is many months away.

A couple of structural and architectural consultants from New York stop in, and ask me if the team I'm working with evaluates the safety and structural integrity of our own worksites, or do we rely upon professionals for that. I don't really know the answer to this, but offer that I believe the sites have previously been inspected adequately and certainly no one from my team is going around giving such opinions on a professional basis. They seem very relieved. But then are distressed again when they learn our volunteers are largely from white collar professions. I attempt to reassure by saying most of us have either been trained, or have done similar work on our own homes. This brings about relief again. I think.

Along I-90 in Biloxi

Katrina did its own version of clearing the view. Here, an entire block is gone, with only a hint of foundations here and there. The view is indeed gorgeous, and part of me hopes that it will remain unobstructed. But peoples' homes were lost, and businesses which would provide jobs could locate here. I am just grateful to see this and imagine what this coast looked like 100 years ago before casinos and vacationers changed the landscape.

Pink Glove Moments

Amy has this thing for pink. You already know about her pink boots. She also has pink gloves, given to her by her fellow "camp mom", Karen. At the time Amy was presented with the gloves, she welled up with tears as she quite often does.

Yesterday, several of us had our "pink glove moments" as we reach some point of inner reflection that can overwhelm. Paul, who coined the phrase, shared his with us. "Up until today, I thought of my work as just helping my buddy from around the corner do a little dry-walling in his place. I just realized that I am not from just around the corner."

The catalyst for emotion for many of us was the surprise arrival of a poster from Simsbury United Methodist Church. About ten feet long (I didn't measure it; it may be longer or shorter), it carried messages from home. "I don't feel like I deserve this," Paul said. He explained that he was just doing something he would expect to do, and not anything deserving of special recognition.


Cassandra and Mel, touched and excited by the messages sent from SUMC


This touched a chord in me, having struggled all day, and really all week, with the fact that I have "the cushy job" in many respects--sitting at Java Joe's and writing rather than hammering, taping, mucking, sanding, and such. When I do join a work crew in progress I sometimes get the feel I am breaking in on some bonded territory--like a scalawag crossing union lines or something. For they have been there from the beginning, working on a continual process. Don't get me wrong--these are friendly, welcoming, caring people, many of whom who have been my friends for years. But there is this feeling we are here to sweat and somehow take on some of the pain we see everywhere. And somehow, swinging a hammer and coming back exhausted and filthy helps to do that in a more obvious way than writing and taking photos.

This makes me all the more determined to get this continuing story out, to do right by it, to make a difference. How can I help? is the constant question on my mind.

I'm pretty good at painting and refinishing, and decent at using power drivers and drills and in putting things together. [I struggle at taping and mudding, given that I was taught a different way of doing it (with mesh, rather than tape) than most in this group were taught.] As Providence would have it, there are no painting jobs ready to be done, and precious little assembly work. So it seems that I can do more good with words, and my team leader Mel, and his assistant, Jerry, recognize this.

Yesterday, I had the good fortune to meet up with my friend from way back, Barbara. We bonded in 8th grade when she moved to my hometown of Marshall, Missouri and sat next to me to sing in the chorus. She was the maid of honor when I got married, and the last time I had seen her was 12 years ago at her own wedding in New Orleans. Barbara, an RN, and her husband, a structural engineer, live in the flood-damaged (from the storm surge at Lake Ponchartraine) two-story house they are trying to make back into their home in Mandeville, LA.

[An aside here--Barbara was the woman who had picked up Miss Alice from the New Orleans airport and helped her pick up some of her belongings in her old apartment. Much of those belongings are in a Pod which remains in Barbara's driveway in Mandeville. For those who don't know who Miss Alice is, or how she came to live with me for 11 weeks, you can get a little hint by reading my unfinished blog called Chez DuBois.]

Barbara had driven over for the middle of the day to catch up with me, and we spent about two hours driving and photographing from Biloxi to Bay St. Louis (Gulfport, Pass Christian, and Waveland in between.) The experience nearly sucked the air out of me with the gravity and scope of it all. Miles and miles and miles of changed lives and landscapes. The phrase heard over and over again everywhere you go is "television gives you no idea what it is truly like here; you just have to be here."

Still, I am going to try to convey some of what we see here with a selection of the over 200 photos I've shot so far.

Oh Happy Day

Diane has a digital camera (that I lust after) which records video clips. I am attempting to upload one such clip she took at the worship service at St. Paul's UMC on Sunday. The choir there--on Sunday it consisted of seven or eight women and one teenaged boy--is worth a listen.

This blog, so far as I can tell, uploads images and words and links and such, but so far I haven't gotten it to upload this clip Diane took of the choir singing "Oh Happy Day." From Diane's vantage point you can see how members of the congregation (largely, workers from our groups camped there at St. Paul's, along with visiting locals and some of the members of St. Paul's--30% of whom are unaccounted for) swaying to the music, and joining along. The service, which lasted two hours, included many pieces from the choir who sang from memory. Having watched the choir rehearsal in part, it appears they learn the music through rote memory rather than reading it. That comes in handy when all your music is wet, or blown away, or full of mildew, or your piano is broken and your organ works when the spirit moves it to do so.

There were a few, almost impromptu, solos interspersed throughout the service--usually starting with a few spoken words, and then breaking into an a capella paragraph. Within a bar or two, the organist has figured out what key the soloist has embarked upon, and joins in with a bluesy kind of accompaniment. Soon thereafter, the choir members have begun to join in on choruses, along with more and more of the congregation. Some are only comfortable or familiar enough to clap along, while others join right in, even if only tentatively.

Life at Java Joe's

Sherry O'Murray, co-owner of Java Joe's came to Biloxi by way of Chicago, Texas, Florida, and overseas (armed forces). "It just grows on you here." You got that right. But for a mortgage, student loans, two cats, clients I'm loyal to, and a church family that is, well, family, I think I really would come down here and stay a while. A long while.

Sherry, who reminds me of a younger sister of the actor Tommy Lee Jones, goes about the business of making coffee for the locals (and people like me who have managed to find it) each day with a weary pride. Weary, because she sorely needs help.

Seeing how much people love coming here, I wondered why she hasn't been flooded with applications by jobless folks. I overheard at least one answer when some customers were discussing the same issue--unemployment comp pays more. And has "bennies" (benefits) that Sherry probably cannot afford.

The line can be long--Sherry individually brews each cup except for the "House Coffee"--but no one seems to mind. I sure don't. I've been harboring a little secret which I'm outting myself on today--I LOVE the breakfast biscuit they serve here. Oh my. The biscuit is large and flaky and fresh and made like it is supposed to be, and like few have tasted northward of the Mason-Dixon. The egg, cheese, and sausage are probably little different than elsewhere, but putting those ingredients on that biscuit, and having it served to you by Sherry, well you feel like a princess.

Today, I know I've become part of the local scene, as I rate having my biscuit on a cut glass salad plate. Reminds me being at tea with my grandmother. Or at an afternoon wedding reception being held at a country church.

Yep. I live for that biscuit, even if it means waiting until well after 9 for it, having gotten up at 6.

I ask three of the "regulars" if I can take their picture, and they seem flattered and pleased. They've all lost everything they had except what little they took with them during the storm. One is now renting a house; the other two live in FEMA trailers on their respective properties. They have settled into a daily routine of going to Mass down the street, then walking somewhere for breakfast, then going for another walk along the beach. Sometimes for a change of scenery, they eat breakfast at the hospital. And they recommend the food there. But given that I've seen them here ever time I've been here, I have to think they prefer Sherry's food. Or coffee.