Irish-British Province

USA
Escaping Katrina

Almost three months after hurricane Katrina wreaked havoc in Bay St. Louis, a very slow rebuilding is taking place.

A group of theologians and novices from Techny led by Jim BERGIN and Adam McDONALD helped out in clearing up the mess left by Katrina. The retreat center has to be entirely gutted. Apparently the structure is sound but the 8 feet of water that came in left behind so much mud that practically everything has to be replaced.

The cemetery was swamped by water but the graves are safe but for some tombstones toppled over. With all the damage, the confreres from the Bay are put up at different places and some are enjoying extended holidays. It is not clear when they will be able to return.

Fr. Robert FISCHER (Bob), the director, who was in the Retreat House on the night Katrina struck, narrated his ordeal and the eventual escape to the SVD Residence:

"We had just celebrated the feast of St. Augustine, the patron of the Residence at Bay St. Louis. Little did we realize what was to transpire that day as the winds from Hurricane Katrina built up a mighty force during the night."

"We always stick it out,’ the old veterans of many hurricanes boasted. ‘Besides, it never floods here. Our buildings sit on the highest ground in Bay St. Louis.’ Sunday night everyone went to bed confident it would not be different this time too. After brushing off some rain and picking up a few branches torn from a few trees, life would get back to normal…"

But by late afternoon, the weather forecasts got more and more ominous. Katrina was heading straight for Mississippi. It was too late for Bob to escape! He had only a quarter of a tank of gas in his car. The highways were jammed with escapees. The only thing he could do was hunker down at the Retreat Center, which had been in operation for a little over two years.

Bob was confident the new house would stand up firmly against a Category 4 or 5 Hurricane. He was alone in the administration building. He had his flashlight and some food nearby. In a building nearby his cook and housekeeper with their families and a few of their friends huddled together waiting for the long ordeal of wind and rain.

During the night, the force of the wind grew in strength and in velocity. Bob woke up a few times realizing that the winds were not just gusting like the other hurricanes he had endured. They were up against a horrendous power of nature much like a tsunami of wind.

The lights went out early in the morning. Peering out through the darkness a bit of the dawning light shone on a silver of something behind the guest buildings. Bob realized that the creek was rising and had become a raging torrent!

"What will we do?" I thought they said the stream never overflows its banks. "I tried to gaze through the dawn’s early light to capture the scene unfolding outside. The oaks and the pines were bowing so deeply they seemed to genuflect before the mighty power of God manifest in the storm. I thought of Psalm 29…"

Water came in through the cracks under the doors. Bob tried to mop it up. "The water’ll ruin the carpets," he had reasoned. Suddenly, the torrent rushed toward the storm drains. Instead of gushing into the ground, the water bubbled up. Looking around, Bob quickly grasped the situation. Something enormously disastrous was about to occur.

"Water rushed into the building through the seams between the foundations and the superstructure. No way to plug that up to save the carpets, I thought. What was happening, it occurred to me, was that not only had the creek overflowed, but we were in the midst of a storm surge. Before I could count to ten over a foot of muddy water was engulfing the building."

"Better find a high place," Bob told himself and thought of picking up the computers to a higher location. (Later, that did not make much difference). Then he decided to run over to the chapel. He waded through two feet of the fast rising torrent.

In the chapel, there was a high ladder and he thought of climbing into the attic. He set up the ladder and climbed up, but his arthritic legs did not let him reach the attic. Looking down, the water now seemed about three feet deep. Dashing down the ladder, Bob rushed to the chapel door.

The pressure outside was so great he could not push the door open. But the window at the back cracked open under the same pressure letting in a huge surge raising the water level to about 3 and a half feet. He could now open the door.

"Now I had reached critical point. I weighed my options which were rather slim. I decided to swim to the residence. I quickly walked through the rising, muddy torrent past the dining room and kitchen. Now it was a matter of literally sink or swim."

As he reached the water level over his head, he prayed: ‘Lord, you picked up St. Peter when he sank into the sea. Save me. Pick me up, too.’

Thanks be to God, Bob managed to reach the back door of the residence where Fr. Tony HEMPHILL drew him up on to the stairs. Questions and joking greeted him. He smiled and just asked for some dry clothes.

"I was just happy to be there with the community. Even as we all suffered loss and damage, we were all alive. Thanks be to God. I thought of Psalm 124…"

Source: Arnoldus Nota