from Will Perkins
With the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina upon us, I remember the myriad of feelings it wrought; the excitement of distraction from work as we waited for each National Weather Service update, the busy-ness of stocking supplies, storing or tying down items that would normally be leaning in the barn, stored against the greenhouse, or underfoot in the carport, the energy rush you feel when the barometric pressure drops and the winds pick up, the camaraderie and good times experienced when all the family came together at our house to ride out the storm…then, the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach as you realize that this isn’t “someone else’s” problem and it isn’t a matter of just cleaning up a few fallen trees or waiting for the power to come back on. The storm has destroyed what was our back yard, the beaches walked in summertime, the historic city visited in the spring and fall, towns where we once lived and had friends. Also seriously damaged was our family’s sense of security, our friends’ optimism, and to a degree our way of life.
We were one of the few areas in southeast
Of the less obvious impacts (to those residing outside of southeast
Thursday night I attended a Town Hall meeting with the developer of the golf course that, two years ago, was constructed around and behind our little farm. The developer envisions a very upscale community of 600 houses on 70-100 foot wide lots. The number of houses being built will exceed all of the houses currently served by the road that passes in front of our property. Litter, noise, pollution, and opportunity will abound. This is not what we moved out here for. As Lyle Lovett said at one of his concerts, “I used to live in the country. Now I live in town…and I haven’t moved.” We have an eight-year plan that goes like this: pay off the house, sell, move further out, and start over. Nothin’ like a little incentive.