GULFPORT — When Louis Skrmetta finally gets back in his home, he'll have his 1970 Chevrolet Corvette to thank.
"I really miss that car," he said.
The erstwhile vehicle - restored to near-mint condition - was a casualty of Hurricane Katrina, which muscled ashore a year ago today. Skrmetta netted $35,000 on the insurance policy, more than twice the amount the insurance company that covered his home offered him.
He and his wife, Beth, have used that settlement as seed money to replant themselves on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Their 1960s home is unique in that it's practically the only thing standing in their neighborhood, which sits near William Carey University's satellite campus.
A year removed from the nation's most devastating natural disaster, "For Sale" signs are more common along the Coast's beachfront than rebuilding projects. In some areas, weeds and sea grass have overtaken the concrete slabs that were early symbols of Katrina's power.
The frustrations are common. Once homeowners get past insurance companies, FEMA trailers, Small Business Administration loans and resign themselves to an indeterminate waiting period for a state grant, they then face the juggling act of getting the correct permits and the planning it takes to coordinate plumbers, electricians, HVAC installers and wallboard finishers.
Skrmetta owns Ship Island Excursions, a business begun by his grandfather 80 years ago to take tourists to the barrier Islands a few miles into the Gulf of Mexico. He never considered leaving, even when Katrina swamped his home with 6 feet of water, blowing out doors, walls and windows - and not to mention wrecking a perfectly good automobile.
At the time Katrina made landfall, Skrmetta was worried about his three 300-passenger ferries. On Aug. 28, 2005, when it became clear that Mississippi would not escape the storm, Skrmetta and his crew piloted the boats into Biloxi's Back Bay and into an inlet called Bayou Bernard.
Then Katrina lifted the water so rapidly that safety lines tied to nearby trees began popping like rubber bands.
In hair-raising detail, Skrmetta recounts how his crew salvaged a Jet ski that floated by, then braved the winds to run additional lines to keep the ships from being dashed into the submerged rooftops around them.
Tedious months of rebuilding followed.
Skrmetta is being forced to sell one of his boats to keep his business afloat.
"Our business is 70 percent off from pre-Katrina," he said.
WAITING ON GRANT
With no money coming in and little in insurance money, the Skrmettas are among the tens of thousands of Coast residents waiting for word on a federal grant from a program administered by the Mississippi Development Authority.
The program is part of the more than $5 billion in money from the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development approved by Congress in December.
But only a handful of people have received the money. MDA officials said they are working as fast as they can but cite the complex nature of individual claims.
The Skrmettas have done all they can with their home. Its unique architecture forms a horseshoe around a courtyard that is home to a sprawling live oak believed to be centuries old.
With the help of volunteer labor, the holes in the roof and walls have been fixed and doors blown away have been replaced, but much more needs to happen before they can move in.
"Beth and I will not be able to rebuild this house without the grant," said Skrmetta, who along with his son and wife have been living between Beth's parents and the FEMA trailer outside their home.
The Skrmettas are what the state had in mind when the grant program was designed. They live close to the shore, but their house is on a bluff 20 feet above sea level and outside the federal flood zone. Their insurance company offered less than $20,000 on a $250,000 policy, blaming water for the damage instead of Katrina's mighty wind.
The Church of the Good Shepherd in Long Beach has helped the Skrmettas and dozens of other families, dispatching volunteers to help gut flooded homes and begin rebuilding. Michelle Hammons, administrator for the church's recovery operations, said the past year has been exhausting for everyone.
"We have so many people who still have slabs," she said. "But, you know what? It's going to be OK."
OPTIMISM ABOUNDS
Hammons said she has seen grown men weep when a volunteer crew shows up and asks to help.
Even through the frustrations, many like the Skrmettas are reclaiming the coastline. On Monday, neighbors gathered in the Skrmettas' driveway to talk about the possibility of convincing the utility companies to install their lines underground when rebuilding begins in earnest.
The conversation stopped briefly when President Bush, who was on the Coast on Monday to commemorate the anniversary of the storm, blew by on U.S. 90 in a massive motorcade.
Despite the near-total destruction of their neighborhood, most are optimistic.
Richard and Jan Salloum own the pile of broken concrete two doors down from the Skrmettas. They plan to break ground on a new home in September. Jan Salloum said 14 members of her family lost their homes.
Structures much older and larger tumbled down around the Skrmettas' oddly shaped house. Dragging his hand across the salt and pepper stubble on his face, Skrmetta stared at the structure. "A lot of these houses were plowed under," he said, "but they didn't have the integrity of this house."
"I really miss that car," he said.
The erstwhile vehicle - restored to near-mint condition - was a casualty of Hurricane Katrina, which muscled ashore a year ago today. Skrmetta netted $35,000 on the insurance policy, more than twice the amount the insurance company that covered his home offered him.
He and his wife, Beth, have used that settlement as seed money to replant themselves on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Their 1960s home is unique in that it's practically the only thing standing in their neighborhood, which sits near William Carey University's satellite campus.
A year removed from the nation's most devastating natural disaster, "For Sale" signs are more common along the Coast's beachfront than rebuilding projects. In some areas, weeds and sea grass have overtaken the concrete slabs that were early symbols of Katrina's power.
The frustrations are common. Once homeowners get past insurance companies, FEMA trailers, Small Business Administration loans and resign themselves to an indeterminate waiting period for a state grant, they then face the juggling act of getting the correct permits and the planning it takes to coordinate plumbers, electricians, HVAC installers and wallboard finishers.
Skrmetta owns Ship Island Excursions, a business begun by his grandfather 80 years ago to take tourists to the barrier Islands a few miles into the Gulf of Mexico. He never considered leaving, even when Katrina swamped his home with 6 feet of water, blowing out doors, walls and windows - and not to mention wrecking a perfectly good automobile.
At the time Katrina made landfall, Skrmetta was worried about his three 300-passenger ferries. On Aug. 28, 2005, when it became clear that Mississippi would not escape the storm, Skrmetta and his crew piloted the boats into Biloxi's Back Bay and into an inlet called Bayou Bernard.
Then Katrina lifted the water so rapidly that safety lines tied to nearby trees began popping like rubber bands.
In hair-raising detail, Skrmetta recounts how his crew salvaged a Jet ski that floated by, then braved the winds to run additional lines to keep the ships from being dashed into the submerged rooftops around them.
Tedious months of rebuilding followed.
Skrmetta is being forced to sell one of his boats to keep his business afloat.
"Our business is 70 percent off from pre-Katrina," he said.
WAITING ON GRANT
With no money coming in and little in insurance money, the Skrmettas are among the tens of thousands of Coast residents waiting for word on a federal grant from a program administered by the Mississippi Development Authority.
The program is part of the more than $5 billion in money from the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development approved by Congress in December.
But only a handful of people have received the money. MDA officials said they are working as fast as they can but cite the complex nature of individual claims.
The Skrmettas have done all they can with their home. Its unique architecture forms a horseshoe around a courtyard that is home to a sprawling live oak believed to be centuries old.
With the help of volunteer labor, the holes in the roof and walls have been fixed and doors blown away have been replaced, but much more needs to happen before they can move in.
"Beth and I will not be able to rebuild this house without the grant," said Skrmetta, who along with his son and wife have been living between Beth's parents and the FEMA trailer outside their home.
The Skrmettas are what the state had in mind when the grant program was designed. They live close to the shore, but their house is on a bluff 20 feet above sea level and outside the federal flood zone. Their insurance company offered less than $20,000 on a $250,000 policy, blaming water for the damage instead of Katrina's mighty wind.
The Church of the Good Shepherd in Long Beach has helped the Skrmettas and dozens of other families, dispatching volunteers to help gut flooded homes and begin rebuilding. Michelle Hammons, administrator for the church's recovery operations, said the past year has been exhausting for everyone.
"We have so many people who still have slabs," she said. "But, you know what? It's going to be OK."
OPTIMISM ABOUNDS
Hammons said she has seen grown men weep when a volunteer crew shows up and asks to help.
Even through the frustrations, many like the Skrmettas are reclaiming the coastline. On Monday, neighbors gathered in the Skrmettas' driveway to talk about the possibility of convincing the utility companies to install their lines underground when rebuilding begins in earnest.
The conversation stopped briefly when President Bush, who was on the Coast on Monday to commemorate the anniversary of the storm, blew by on U.S. 90 in a massive motorcade.
Despite the near-total destruction of their neighborhood, most are optimistic.
Richard and Jan Salloum own the pile of broken concrete two doors down from the Skrmettas. They plan to break ground on a new home in September. Jan Salloum said 14 members of her family lost their homes.
Structures much older and larger tumbled down around the Skrmettas' oddly shaped house. Dragging his hand across the salt and pepper stubble on his face, Skrmetta stared at the structure. "A lot of these houses were plowed under," he said, "but they didn't have the integrity of this house."