Ground Zero

Big day. Saw many things, some so difficult to see it made my head hurt and nauseated me. Buddy and I spent a couple of hours driving around the north shore of Lake Pontrachain. As we drove south from our command site the devastation grew. Roofs, cars, mattresses, refrigerators, all of the belongings of people's lives piled in huge stacks on the side of the road or scattered about in standing canal water. The debris fields are unbelievable.

We turned east on the road hugging the north shore of Lake Pontrachain. Stilt houses and lakefront property (restaurants, businesses, homes, you name it) completely reduced to pieces of lumber and sheetrock and roofing. Cars in the water. Boats flipped upside down on the side of the street. Children's toys strewn about. This to me was unbearable. So many pictures, so many stories. But there will be time to tell them later. We had arrived at Ground Zero for Slidell, LA.

As we crawled along this road taking pictures and video, we saw an older man with a crowbar and hammer working away on his stilt house. A stilt house with only shards of stilt left. But where was the house? No trace of a lakefront house. I stopped and asked him if I could take his picture. He allowed me this grace. As I talked to Charlie, I learned that he had lived on this lakefront for 31 years. He was devastated. We didn't know why he was working on the house because there was nothing left on the house to work on. But he knew he had to do something. And this was all that he could do. His dreams, life, future, security, and hopes were devastated
in the destruction caused by this hurricane. He shared more with me and Buddy than I ever expected.

Personal pain is so often protected dearly; we were offered a glimpse of his hurting heart.
I mustered the courage and said, "Charlie? Would you mind if I got out my video camera and asked you a few questions? Or would that be too much?" Charlie bowed his head and turned his face towards the lake. "Oh no," he said, "that would be too much." I'm certain that behind his glasses there were tears. Buddy wanted to hug him, but knew that might be too much as well.

Surely we had arrived at Ground Zero in Slidell, LA. And we might never be the same again.

Glen