That's still going on, as the creeks and rivers here crest, and emergency crews strain to reach stranded residents who built just a little too close to the picturesque streams that flow through this section of Mississippi and down to the Pearl River and on to the Gulf of Mexico 30 miles south.
I sat in my living room Wednesday night, reading and surfing the Internet, waiting for my old home to spring a leak. I had my pans and buckets ready.
But nothing happened. As I read, I was lucky that my electricity had not gone off. My daughter’s electricity was out, and I was keeping up with her by phone to make sure she and my grandson were OK.
About midnight I realized I had for hours been sitting in my living room, listening to torrential rains lash the side of my home and windows, with no let up.
How could nature be so cruel? I felt a queasy feeling because I was afraid of a high gust ripping shingles off the roof and the torrents of rain pouring through the ceiling. I prayed. I prayed for myself and for my town and the people I know in it.
You really can’t explain that feeling unless you have lived through one of these great events of nature.
David Farrell writes for the Picayune, Miss., Item.