(Ed’s note: The following is Standish resident Joan Hawkes’ eyewitness account of Hurricane Katrina as it landed near a vacation home she and her husband George recently purchased in Gulfport, Mississippi.)

The Mississippi Gulf Coast changed from a picture-perfect paradise to a miles-wide swath of destruction created Monday, Aug. 29, during the ten hours Katrina pummeled Gulf Coast residents.

The television warnings before landfall indicated some of the fury the approaching Katrina might have. Finally an evacuation for Zones A and B was announced within 24 hours of Katrina’s arrival. There wasn’t a mandatory evacuation in our Zone C house in Gulfport, so we stayed. During Hurricane Ivan last year, after occupying the house for only one month, we had to evacuate to Jasper, Texas, returning to find a storm door had been tugged.

We had purchased things on the “lists” prior to Hurricanes Cindy and Dennis. We had the battery-operated television (I didn’t realize I would need a case of C batteries!) We had water, a first aid kit, crackers, a little canned food, a hand-operated can opener, matches, peanut butter, jelly, fresh bread and numerous toilet paper rolls. But nothing would be enough for Katrina!

Many evacuees left our newly established neighborhood around 3 p.m. Sunday, Aug. 28. That was also the hour the skies darkened and light, sporadic rain began. Twelve hours later winds showed Katrina’s arrival. At four o’clock Monday morning, the power shut off.

At 8:15 a.m. I awakened to Katrina in full force. Peeking through the blinds I saw a fence slat peeling away. I went to open all blinds so I could see without standing in front of windows. The basketball hoop that had been placed on the ground was lying across our neighborhood “loop” road. I watched it travel across the street, in between two houses. (Ten hours later I saw it at its final resting place, at the edge of some trees far, far away.)

I returned my focus to the fencing that lines the perimeter of our yard and the first section had already fallen. Sensing imminent danger, I encouraged my husband to wake up remembering how he slept through a Westbrook fire at his mom’s house years ago. For the next ten hours we moved constantly throughout the house. Deafening winds estimated at 135 miles per hour seemed to concentrate on our kitchen wall from east to west. There was a loud cracking noise and we scurried to an inner bathroom, remembering often how the prospective buyer’s literature described it as a “unique master bathroom” without windows at the center of the house.

Looking into our backyard through the bedroom windows, siding would land then vanish quickly. Blue, gray and white colors would fly past. Huge BFI trash bins blew to other houses or landed in drainage culverts with loosened, unbagged trash blowing freely by.

Because the storm lingered so very long, our shingles started to tear, the yellow siding began to unfold on the kitchen’s outside wall. Inside, afraid to go outside, it was difficult to determine what the damage was. The image of our garage being torn to pieces frequently filled our thoughts.

Checking inside the dark garage with not-too-bright flashlights, we discovered water on the floor. We thought it might be from the ultra force of the rainwater where the garage wall meets the slab foundation. Then we heard another of those crashing, tearing, cracklings at the kitchen wall. Scurrying for the bedroom we discovered water was dripping down the wall near the bedroom windows and coming in the bottom of the back door. We had a package of white utility towels that we started placing on the floor and sills.

I bagged up receipts and important household papers since I felt the kitchen wall, shifting in and out by the force of the Katrina, would open and our personal mail would litter the streets. I also decided to move the glass-topped table into the living room near the center wall. I didn’t want to have jagged daggers of glass flying outside, or inside at us, if the wall gave way.

The kitchen wall tried very hard to pull away and collapse. Katrina’s first attack pulled the cabinets away from the wall; subsequent wind would move the dining room windows, exposing Sheetrock screws. Wall plaster cracked around the cabinets, and a 14-inch crack opened in the wall, the glass piece floating behind the sink.

But now the noises from the garage were giving us the impression there wouldn’t be a garage. Walking around in the darkened garage, with flashlights pointed inwardly toward the wall, we found the water in the garage had been caused by the ceiling falling. The finished garage ceiling was falling on the car. Our precautions for putting the car in the garage to avoid wind, rain and hail had placed it under totally soaked, water-filled drywall. After the storm, the garage looked as though we had plucked some chickens. Mushed drywall, blown in insulation and regular insulation combined to look like a room of feathers! Cars parked outside in our area didn’t appear damaged, with the exception of a guardrail that slid down the street and dented a car as it came to a halt.

Boarded-up windows didn’t protect the houses from extensive roof and water damage. Not too many were boarded; a couple had aluminum hurricane shutters. The only windows broken were in the house across the street because their porch collapsed bringing the porch roof into their living room window. An older house lost the attic and second floor. The debris made a mess and much danger for neighboring homes.

Around 2:30 p.m. we heard local radio station WLOX say the storm would be over in four hours. We had hoped for the previously announced 3:30 p.m., so that was so disappointing. The intensity of Katrina never lessened. Katrina changed direction – the front of the house now was receiving the wind and rain’s full force. Water entered under the door. I compared it to a child having a squirt gun and continually shooting water. I was on my hands and knees trying to keep it away from the rug. (Memories of stories of mildew, rot and mold ruining similarly built homes came rushing back.) More pieces fell in the garage and the shingles were wanting to lift off. The ones that held were shingles where contractors had peeled the sticky strip.

Sun began to shine but the wind was still about 50 miles an hour. Jagged pieces of colored siding wrapped around streetlights and mailboxes. Now we knew our siding had been torn away because Tyvek plastic was hanging like I saw on the neighbors’ homes.

Thought we’d never see yellow ones flying through the air! Shingles began to accumulate on the lawn just as the many sections of fencing were. Fortunately, shingles and fencing don’t get picked up by the wind. Once they’re down, they’re down.

Water was showing on the ceilings within the house now. It would continue to get damper right up until Friday, September 2 when we left Gulfport. When the rain subsided, neighbors appeared. It really was too dangerous with the wind but gradually more doors opened and more people were filling the streets and surveying the damage.

I talked to a man who had many plants. He told me most everything was destroyed. His shed and other sheds were demolished. He mentioned his lime tree was just two sticks now.

Our neighborhood had sturdy houses, but the common thread was water damage. Unshingled roofs had allowed high-pressured water to get inside the rafters. Ceilings fell and water damaged interiors.

The girl across the street reported the BP Fayard’s gas station was leveled. Each word from someone returning from their mom’s or a shelter was extremely welcome. Her friends arrived from two different shelters reporting car windows being blown out while they were inside the shelter.

No communication is a real worry. Relatives that you could e-mail or call Sunday didn’t hear until brief text messages Tuesday indicated we were fine, “OK, no utilities.” I wrote the messages in the early morning and walked toward the development entrance, and better reception, to try sending. Finally at 11:26 a.m. on Tuesday three brief messages finally transmitted to Maine, New Hampshire and California. They were the first links to tell family and friends we were alive! The cell tower so close by must have been running on a generator because its power wouldn’t recognize service. But the tests arrived successfully at their destinations nevertheless.

When I awoke Tuesday, I was like a very tired, weary, cross-country traveler wondering where I might be as the silver moon pointed its light into my eyes. I got up and looked through the blinds. The reality of Katrina slapped my face. I saw the sections of scattered fence, the bird bath top in my yard, the blue pool and messy yard that was hidden from my view previously.

And then there was the beginning of a gorgeous Mississippi Gulf Coast sunrise. All I thought of repeatedly was “what a cruel joke, what a cruel joke.” Then I realized, “this was the day God made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

My attitude changed from needing to save everything untouched for insurance adjusters and FEMA, to the idea that authorities don’t expect you to sit in a mess. So, I went outside to pick up asphalt shingles, and the very, very many tree branches that littered our yard at six o’clock Tuesday morning.