The Last Perfect Night
|
08/18/2015 J. L. Steele |
Friday, August 26, 2005 was a perfect night to be at
Bristol. I'm not just remembering it that way, I vividly remember
thinking that at the time. Life was good. As a Realtor, it had been a
great year for business. I actually finished putting a deal together
over the phone while walking toward the track. There had been three
hurricanes in Florida that summer and I was helping a couple from
Lakeland, FL find a new home in east Tennessee. They'd had enough. As
our conversation ended, the gentleman mentioned the latest storm that
had gone through south Florida a day earlier. Fortunately it was south
of them and it was only a Category 1 hurricane now heading out to the
Gulf and appeared to be weakening. He said it was named Katrina.
This was the first time my brother Eddie had been to Bristol. I was proud of the fact I could introduce him to this great track in the way I could. We had hot passes courtesy of David and Diane Green. David was driving the Kleenex/Scott Brand Ford for Brewco Motorsports. I'd known the Green's for a few years and they were always gracious with their hospitality at the track. It was also the first time I'd seen Diane for a few years and additionally, all three Green brothers were racing that night. It was a typical east Tennessee late summer, muggy night, a perfect night for racing. As Eddie and I watched practice from the top of the transporter, he nudged me. Looking at the roof of the hauler next to us, I saw he was motioning to Richard Petty who was also taking it in. Life is good and this night is perfect, I thought. I was also now sporting what I thought was a great looking khaki Kleenex Racing hat, courtesy of David's team. This was going to be one of those "special occasion" hats, the ones you wear to the races. It wasn't a hat for everyday wear that might actually get it dirty.
The race didn't go as well as we'd hoped for. David finished 27th but being able to stand behind the concrete wall at the bottom of turns one and two, knowing we were closer to the track than anyone not in a race car, only reminded us again of how lucky we were to be there. As the track emptied, we stood there and watched that unique dance of semis that takes place at Bristol. The Busch Series trucks were leaving to make room for the other Cup haulers who were parked outside due to the lack of room. Instead of taking the tunnel out, we walked up the track and out the gate in turn three with David and Diane. I enjoyed listening to all the comments fans yelled down to drivers as they were exiting. We all visited for a few minutes in the parking lot then Eddie and I thanked them (again!), said our goodbyes and walked to our cars.
Eddie lives two states away so our time together is limited. Our time at the races is even more limited so being able to share Bristol the way we just had was special. We continued talking and walking until we got back to the big parking lot on the south side of White Top Road where we parted. He was heading north while I had just a short drive less than two hours to the south. Making my way back to I-81 well after midnight, I turned on the radio in time to catch the news. Apparently that storm my buyer told me about earlier was heading toward the Gulf Coast now. I knew people in Jackson County, MS and thought about them but was relieved to hear the announcer say it was just a Category 2 storm. Still elated about the perfect night I'd just enjoyed, I told myself that those folks would be alright. After all, don't they always prepare for the worst case scenario with these storms? Then when they pass, everyone has a big laugh about how worried they were.
This was the first time my brother Eddie had been to Bristol. I was proud of the fact I could introduce him to this great track in the way I could. We had hot passes courtesy of David and Diane Green. David was driving the Kleenex/Scott Brand Ford for Brewco Motorsports. I'd known the Green's for a few years and they were always gracious with their hospitality at the track. It was also the first time I'd seen Diane for a few years and additionally, all three Green brothers were racing that night. It was a typical east Tennessee late summer, muggy night, a perfect night for racing. As Eddie and I watched practice from the top of the transporter, he nudged me. Looking at the roof of the hauler next to us, I saw he was motioning to Richard Petty who was also taking it in. Life is good and this night is perfect, I thought. I was also now sporting what I thought was a great looking khaki Kleenex Racing hat, courtesy of David's team. This was going to be one of those "special occasion" hats, the ones you wear to the races. It wasn't a hat for everyday wear that might actually get it dirty.
The race didn't go as well as we'd hoped for. David finished 27th but being able to stand behind the concrete wall at the bottom of turns one and two, knowing we were closer to the track than anyone not in a race car, only reminded us again of how lucky we were to be there. As the track emptied, we stood there and watched that unique dance of semis that takes place at Bristol. The Busch Series trucks were leaving to make room for the other Cup haulers who were parked outside due to the lack of room. Instead of taking the tunnel out, we walked up the track and out the gate in turn three with David and Diane. I enjoyed listening to all the comments fans yelled down to drivers as they were exiting. We all visited for a few minutes in the parking lot then Eddie and I thanked them (again!), said our goodbyes and walked to our cars.
Eddie lives two states away so our time together is limited. Our time at the races is even more limited so being able to share Bristol the way we just had was special. We continued talking and walking until we got back to the big parking lot on the south side of White Top Road where we parted. He was heading north while I had just a short drive less than two hours to the south. Making my way back to I-81 well after midnight, I turned on the radio in time to catch the news. Apparently that storm my buyer told me about earlier was heading toward the Gulf Coast now. I knew people in Jackson County, MS and thought about them but was relieved to hear the announcer say it was just a Category 2 storm. Still elated about the perfect night I'd just enjoyed, I told myself that those folks would be alright. After all, don't they always prepare for the worst case scenario with these storms? Then when they pass, everyone has a big laugh about how worried they were.
Ocean Springs To Biloxi
Sonny
is the perfect name for a big man from south Mississippi. The Sonny I
got to know watched that same Busch race from the comfort of his home
just outside of Ocean Springs in Jackson County, the easternmost of
Mississippi's three Gulf Coast counties. It sits directly across the bay
from Biloxi to its west and it is 675 miles southwest of Bristol. He
told me later that from his view, he also believed it had been a perfect
night. His family had cooked out earlier and although he heard reports
of Katrina changing directions and heading their way, he had a hard time
believing it could really be as bad as what some reports were
predicting. He and his wife talked about evacuating but decided to wait.
As Katrina strengthened the next day however, they decided that
although they lived three miles from the coast, they shouldn't take a
chance; so they left.
The attention New Orleans received in the days and weeks after Katrina struck was extraordinary and not always for the right reasons. Because of the media coverage that received, a lot of people didn't realize and maybe still don't know that the Mississippi Gulf Coast suffered much more destruction. Katrina made landfall twice there and spawned at least two tornadoes. The storm surge was 20 to 30 feet. Sonny's house three miles from the coast had been filled with over six feet of water. A young Vietnamese couple in their neighborhood, knowing very little English, didn't know to leave. By the grace of God, they and their infant son survived by standing on their kitchen counter for several hours as the water rose.
The attention New Orleans received in the days and weeks after Katrina struck was extraordinary and not always for the right reasons. Because of the media coverage that received, a lot of people didn't realize and maybe still don't know that the Mississippi Gulf Coast suffered much more destruction. Katrina made landfall twice there and spawned at least two tornadoes. The storm surge was 20 to 30 feet. Sonny's house three miles from the coast had been filled with over six feet of water. A young Vietnamese couple in their neighborhood, knowing very little English, didn't know to leave. By the grace of God, they and their infant son survived by standing on their kitchen counter for several hours as the water rose.
It was the afternoon of Tuesday, August 30 before I spoke to my friend Al who also lived in Ocean Springs. His home was gone but his family was safe. When I asked what I could do, what they needed, after a quiet pause he said, "Anything, everything. There's nothing. There's just nothing here." It took a few weeks to make arrangements but my first trip to the Gulf post-Katrina was on Friday, September 23. Kevin, a friend of mine and I took my Ford Expedition and a U-Haul trailer, both of which were absolutely crammed full of donated cleaning supplies, bottled water and canned food. What we saw as we made our way from Interstate 10 to Highway 90 was so shocking that even now, ten years later, I'm not capable of adequately describing it. That was a full month after Katrina had struck. I truly cannot imagine what it was like in the hours and days immediately after, let alone what it smelled like. As much of a cliche as it is, you truly had to see it to even begin to believe what your eyes were seeing but your mind was having difficulty in comprehending and having actually seen it, you wished like crazy you never had.
That's when I met Sonny. Although this also never got the media attention it deserved, the people of the Mississippi coast banded together completely opposite to what we saw and heard from New Orleans, 88 miles to the west. People were helping people. Black, white, rich, poor, it didn't matter. With the help of outside volunteers, crews would tackle the cleaning and rebuilding of a house. Once that house was complete, they'd move to the next and those that had been helped, were helping their neighbor, creating a forward moving domino effect. My friend Al introduced me to Sonny. It was his turn to be helped and we were going to spend the weekend tearing out moldy sheet rock and bleaching the wall studs in his family's house. Sonny was quiet at first. As a matter of fact, everyone was quiet on that first day. It wasn't until Saturday that I was told everyone had been nervous about what direction Hurricane Rita was going to take in the previous days. She had brought rain on that Friday night but had gone well west into Texas. I thought it was a bit funny that Kevin and I had driven from Tennessee based on reports that Ocean Springs would be spared by Rita. It wasn't funny though to those who feared any more substantial rainfall, let alone another hurricane.
The first thing Sonny said to me when we got to the shell of his house on Saturday morning was, "Nice hat." That's when I realized I'd worn that new Kleenex Racing hat. I thanked him but couldn't believe I'd been such an idiot. Why had I grabbed that nice, new hat when I knew I'd be working and sweating all day? As vain as I was, I discreetly took it off as soon as I could and laid it on the console of the Expedition. That was the beginning of how we got to know each other and begin to share our love of racing. The Red Cross people and recovery coordinators warned us to not initiate a lot of small talk. These people were still shell shocked and in a lot of ways just focused on the immediate task at hand. It's all they could handle after what they'd been through and were still going through. That's how they got through a day. Complete one task at a time until you've filled a day. That takes you one day further from the hell of Katrina and as small as it may seem to outsiders, every step is a positive. We were told not to ask about that August weekend. If someone wants to talk about it, listen because it will help them but let them talk it out on their own terms. Kevin and I realized what we were a part of was truly a war zone on American soil.
I got to know Sonny on his terms that day, through the bits and pieces of questions and conversations he'd throw at me. As the day of work progressed, someone turned on a Dewalt Jobsite radio. MRN was coming on with the Busch Series race from Dover. As big of a fan as I was, I'd not even thought about the race until then, not with so much going on. That's also when Sonny and I got to really know each other. We just became two races fans working the same job. He'd been an Earnhardt fan until 2001. Now that Dale was gone, he was trying to support Junior but wasn't sure. He'd lost all his memorabilia, jackets, shirts and hats along with every other single thing he and his family had left in that house a month before. He said he might get back into it once they found their new normal but for now he just wanted his house back.
Ryan Newman won the Dover race that day. He'd also won that night in Bristol a month earlier on that perfect night. Unfortunately David Green was caught up in an early wreck and finished 32nd. Sonny made a joke that since Newman had won the last race he'd watched before Katrina and the first one he'd listened to after, that maybe he should be a Newman fan. I gave an insincere laugh then Sonny stopped and looked straight at me. "I just joked about something" he said. I watched at him as he looked around the house, his house that all these strangers were working in. "I just joked and listened to a race like everything was normal and I didn't give a damn about Katrina." Sometimes in life there are moments when we should shut our mouths because there is nothing we can really add yet too often, we think we'll somehow enhance the occasion by talking. To this day, I'm thankful that I didn't try to say anything then. There simply wasn't anything TO say. I could talk to Sonny about racing or any other topical subject he'd bring up but I knew absolutely nothing about destruction and sanity or uncertainly and emotions like he and his family faced.
There was nothing else to do in Sonny's house that weekend. After all the wood was bleached, large fans were turned on to help it dry before new sheet rock was hung. That wouldn't happen until I was back in Tennessee. Sonny started to thank everyone as we began leaving. There were tears and laughs, hugs and handshakes. When he got to me, he asked if I was coming back. I told him I planned to and he asked me to come by if I did so I could see the progress. I told him I would but he'd have to do something for me. He couldn't for any reason become a Ryan Newman fan. That made him laugh, we both laughed and at some point it made us cry. Two filthy, sweating, exhausted men who had been strangers 10 hours earlier, stood on a street where yards were filled with every item that had once been in those homes and cried from laughing, or maybe just cried.
The Ocean Springs YMCA was open to volunteers who needed a place to take a shower. As Kevin and I got in the Expedition to head that way, we asked Sonny if there was anything else we could do for him before we left. He told us no, we had done more than enough. As I got behind the wheel, I said, "Then Sonny, you can do something for me." I picked up my nearly new Kleenex Racing hat off the console and handed it to him. "Here, we don't need Ryan Newman winning any more races." We were both laughing as I pulled away.
The first thing Sonny said to me when we got to the shell of his house on Saturday morning was, "Nice hat." That's when I realized I'd worn that new Kleenex Racing hat. I thanked him but couldn't believe I'd been such an idiot. Why had I grabbed that nice, new hat when I knew I'd be working and sweating all day? As vain as I was, I discreetly took it off as soon as I could and laid it on the console of the Expedition. That was the beginning of how we got to know each other and begin to share our love of racing. The Red Cross people and recovery coordinators warned us to not initiate a lot of small talk. These people were still shell shocked and in a lot of ways just focused on the immediate task at hand. It's all they could handle after what they'd been through and were still going through. That's how they got through a day. Complete one task at a time until you've filled a day. That takes you one day further from the hell of Katrina and as small as it may seem to outsiders, every step is a positive. We were told not to ask about that August weekend. If someone wants to talk about it, listen because it will help them but let them talk it out on their own terms. Kevin and I realized what we were a part of was truly a war zone on American soil.
I got to know Sonny on his terms that day, through the bits and pieces of questions and conversations he'd throw at me. As the day of work progressed, someone turned on a Dewalt Jobsite radio. MRN was coming on with the Busch Series race from Dover. As big of a fan as I was, I'd not even thought about the race until then, not with so much going on. That's also when Sonny and I got to really know each other. We just became two races fans working the same job. He'd been an Earnhardt fan until 2001. Now that Dale was gone, he was trying to support Junior but wasn't sure. He'd lost all his memorabilia, jackets, shirts and hats along with every other single thing he and his family had left in that house a month before. He said he might get back into it once they found their new normal but for now he just wanted his house back.
Ryan Newman won the Dover race that day. He'd also won that night in Bristol a month earlier on that perfect night. Unfortunately David Green was caught up in an early wreck and finished 32nd. Sonny made a joke that since Newman had won the last race he'd watched before Katrina and the first one he'd listened to after, that maybe he should be a Newman fan. I gave an insincere laugh then Sonny stopped and looked straight at me. "I just joked about something" he said. I watched at him as he looked around the house, his house that all these strangers were working in. "I just joked and listened to a race like everything was normal and I didn't give a damn about Katrina." Sometimes in life there are moments when we should shut our mouths because there is nothing we can really add yet too often, we think we'll somehow enhance the occasion by talking. To this day, I'm thankful that I didn't try to say anything then. There simply wasn't anything TO say. I could talk to Sonny about racing or any other topical subject he'd bring up but I knew absolutely nothing about destruction and sanity or uncertainly and emotions like he and his family faced.
There was nothing else to do in Sonny's house that weekend. After all the wood was bleached, large fans were turned on to help it dry before new sheet rock was hung. That wouldn't happen until I was back in Tennessee. Sonny started to thank everyone as we began leaving. There were tears and laughs, hugs and handshakes. When he got to me, he asked if I was coming back. I told him I planned to and he asked me to come by if I did so I could see the progress. I told him I would but he'd have to do something for me. He couldn't for any reason become a Ryan Newman fan. That made him laugh, we both laughed and at some point it made us cry. Two filthy, sweating, exhausted men who had been strangers 10 hours earlier, stood on a street where yards were filled with every item that had once been in those homes and cried from laughing, or maybe just cried.
The Ocean Springs YMCA was open to volunteers who needed a place to take a shower. As Kevin and I got in the Expedition to head that way, we asked Sonny if there was anything else we could do for him before we left. He told us no, we had done more than enough. As I got behind the wheel, I said, "Then Sonny, you can do something for me." I picked up my nearly new Kleenex Racing hat off the console and handed it to him. "Here, we don't need Ryan Newman winning any more races." We were both laughing as I pulled away.
