Travels with Kurt(aka "Kurt's Katrina Journals and other observations")Journal Day 1 - 9/01/05:
Hi all Journal Day 2 - 9/02/05:
Hi all I started in Mountain Home, Arkansas this morning as my friend and I shared a breakfast at McDonalds. You know, there is something down home, with a close feeling when one dines at the golden arches. It is something familiar and almost family-like. No matter where you travel, most all McDonalds are the same. Big breakfasts are still big breakfasts and their benchmark coffee is still some of the best coffee on the road. Somehow in this changing world, that is refreshing and quite comforting. Some things, thank God, just do not change. When I was driving through Arkansas on route 412 toward Memphis, I noticed that the gas prices had shot up overnight again. Most places I came across were $3.24 with some at $3.39 per gallon. I know, I forgot to add that famous and archaic nine-tenths of a cent. That system was devised when we had mills to pay a percentage of a cent. Now it is simply used to jack the price even higher without us seeing it. Anyway, that went on for many miles until suddenly I found gas at $2.99, then $2.94, on down the road not very far it was $2.86 and just a little ways further it was $2.77. I found a station in Mississippi at $2.75. The fine art of price gouging is alive and well in the good old U. S. of A. The gas retailers have done it for so many years that they should be VERY good at it. Of course there is a catch to some of the lower priced gas. I stopped at a Mississippi station to refill and was told that I could only spend thirty bucks on gas. That is just a little over 10 gallons of regular gas. I went ahead and prepaid, (that is becoming the normal, rather than the exception now), took my allotted amount of fuel and then drove across the street and did the same thing until I had a full tank. I believe everyone else was doing the same thing. On the way here I received a call from Douglas Holland, the creator of the Branson Critic website, who now lives in Ft.Myers, Florida. Doug told me that there is NO gas at all in southern Florida. None!! He also said that the delivery trucks for everything from lumber to groceries are not making deliveries because they might be able to get there, but they would not be able to make it back. Doug went out yesterday and bought about a three weeks' supply of groceries. They can't go anywhere, but they still have to eat. So, in light of that, I felt lucky to have gas rationing after all. At least I did get gas. Incidentally, that was the only gas rationing that I ran into the rest of the trip.
On the
way through Arkansas I witnessed the Arkansas National Guard as they
were mustering their equipment and getting ready to hit the yellow
brick road to New Orleans. They were quite an impressive sight and I
have no doubt that they can and will handle anything thrown at them.
In this letter you will find a photo of myself taken this morning Journal Day 4 - 9/05/05: Dear Friends So, the game plan is this. We are waiting to find out the status of our office in Mobile now. The bigger problem is that there are NO operating motels yet in the Mobile area. Therefore, we are having to travel 390 round-trip miles to do our work. That is not a pretty picture, especially with escalated gas pricing. The gas here, believe it or not, is $2.99 per gallon just about anywhere, with dollar caps on the amount you can get. So, instead of really rationing gasoline, one can pull across the street and fill up the tank. They are not rationing, they are being aggravating. I actually filled up today at $2.89 per gallon at a Shell station. There is no real damage here in Prattville or Montgomery for that matter. The damage is further south. I plan on waiting until I have a load of loss files and then head south for Mobile. I can and will sleep in my van. Having a van with a bed is a real plus right now. The only things I do not have are facilities in the van for showering, etc. So I think it is a plan that will work. Just as long as I park in a rest area or a service station. The Hank Williams Museum is just down the road from here, actually at the second exit from where I am. I intend to see it before I get busy with the claim business. Larry Burton Crocker, who most of you will remember as the greatest Hank Williams Tribute artist, e-mailed me and reminded me where the museum is located. I will also be sending a couple of photos. Bear
with me on the photos. I have had a problem with the JPEGs being
renamed on sending to some of you. If you do not receive them
properly, please write and I will resend them to you. I think I have
found the bug, but it may take more than Roto-Rooter to get the
bugger out of my computer. Hope you all are doing well and have the
good people of Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana in your prayers
and thoughts. I want to thank each of you who have sent me personal
notes. They are always Journal Day 6 - 9/07/05:
Dear Friends So, back to the ranch and the drawing board. I came back to my original motel in Prattville, got my old room back and set to the task of using Internet and phones to secure lodging. As of this evening, I have secured two pretty-sures that I am to call in the morning to confirm. What that boils down to, is that I have nothing for sure. Some of the motels were not even answering their phones, but instead
had recordings that said they were booked solid through December.
Yikes! My watch says it is now the first part of September. They are
telling the public, of which I am a member, they are booked solid
for four months. FEMA and other government agencies are footing the
bill for the evacuees and the hotel-motel industry is making out
like a bandit. Some of the other motels are taking full advantage of
the situation and are gouging with a capital "G." When I ask the
price for a single room, with one bed for one person, I am told by
some that it will be, like, $587 dollars per week. Now bear in
mind, that DOES include the tax. Let's do the math. Let's consider
that there are 4.3 weeks per month. That boils down to $2524.10 per
month. What kind of a room, or suite, will that buy any place In any case, with the two maybes and/or pretty-sures, I
will be leaving the Another note of interest. I filled up today at 2.79 and
have seen gas at 2.78. Gas prices seem to be stabilizing now, even
lowering. Considering the fact that my van gets about 14 miles per
gallon, I am quite thankful. Maybe we should put a requirement that
only vehicles that are paid for could be on the highways. Then the
highways would be pretty empty and we would have gas coming out our
ears. Sounds a bit like Will Rogers, don't cha think? Well people, I
am ready to go out to supper now. I hope you are all thankful for
the warm, dry place you have to sleep at night. Many others, even
today in the south central US, do not. I know after watching TV
coverage of this horrendous disaster, I am truly thankful for what I
have. I am truly thankful for the small things in life that we take
for granted. Speaking of the price of gasoline, a friend of mine,
Julie Grant from Michigan, sent me the following link. I think you
will enjoy it and get a kick out of it: Journal Day 8 - 9/09/05:
To all my friends and scalawags (you
know which one you are) The first thing I began to notice was
that there was an extraordinary amount of bug splashes on my
windshield. My first gas stop at Evergreen, confirmed the bugs and
what the bugs were. The "LOVE" bugs are back for their semi-annual
visit. They normally visit in September and May. The first time I
encountered them was also around the first part of September in
Louisiana as I was working Hurricane Andrew in 1992. The official
name for the little critters is Plecia nearctica. However, the
unofficial names are the honeymoon fly, telephone bug, double-headed
bug, united bug, March fly and of course, the love bug. The people
in Cajun country call them Pas-Pa-Toot. I am not sure of the
spelling, but phonetically that is the way it is said. They are
called love bugs because of a particular trait they have, they are
always mating. They are mating while they fly and so you do not get
just one Nothing too exciting happened on day seven. I went off the beaten trail from Evergreen to a small spot off the road called Whatley, Alabama. There was a lady there who had a claim that I was to adjust. The hamlet of Whatley has no real way in or out of the place and no city limit signs. You just sort of pick a trail and go, hoping that you have picked the right one. The town has seen much better days and very few buildings have survived the ravages of time. I stopped at the post office to find where this person was located. Down here, most of the people assume you know where you are going, so why go to the expense of marking every road. Right? There was a very nice, cultured and extremely pleasant lady in the post office who helped me find where this person was located and told me the inside scoop on how to get there. That same lady was also, interestingly enough, checking her lineage because there is a possibility that she may be related to Hank Williams. Yes folks, this is definitely big Hank Williams country.
Incidentally, there was a building,
beaten up with the passage of time and dis-use, setting I am now in Foley, just south of Mobile and just north of Gulf Shores, Alabama. I am about 15 miles from the Gulf of Mexico. Places here are hard to find and the real work today, day 8, is finding a more or less permanent place to stay. If one can make it until the lodging feeding frenzy settles, there will be a lot of places to stay. Right now everyone is making out like a bandit and they could care less if they have your business or not. Incidentally, with the exception of the occasional blown out commercial sign or billboard, I am not seeing much damage where I am sitting. The damage is more to the west and south. Also, this might interest you. The further south I came, the cheaper gas became. Just across the street it is $2.49. Now this is gonna sound awful, but to me now, that seems cheap. That is exactly what the oil companies want us to think while they are pocketing huge profits. That is another story for another time. Also in a future
journal, learn how to not only understand southern talk, but you may
also learn how to speak it yourself. It is like an entirely new
language. So until next time. In honor of one of my boyhood western
heroes and also my good friend Roy (Dusty) Rogers Jr., I would like
to wish every one of you Journal Day 10 - 9/11/05:
Friends and neighbors I have found the young people here completely respectful of anyone older than they are. It is such a joy to hear them talk to you. Yes sir, no sir, thank you sir, that is very nice sir. One does not hear that kind of respect very often in other parts of this country. They are also such a genteel people. Most of the people I have talked to, so far, were not only born here and raised here but chose to spend their lives here close to their family. It is so nice to see that happen, especially when you don't know of a single family that has done that in our generation in the Midwest. I am sure there are a few, I am just not aware of them. This journal will be short because it is Sunday and I, just as every one else, would like to spend the rest of the evening either watching a movie or just plain relaxing.
OK, I told you in the last journal that
I would teach you how to talk southern. Actually, I
Well, once you get on a southern diet
your voice changes and also the cadence of your delivery. Once they
have eaten, there is a revolution taking place in the stomach and
the gastro-track that causes them to draw out their words slowly and
carefully. It also changes the pitch of their voice somewhat.
Imagine gas from your stomach rumbling toward your mouth as you are
talking. Does something to the tone of your voice, right? I know that some of you are receiving
the photos attached and some are not. Please write and let me know
if you did not get them and I will mail them to you separately.
Partners, I am about to call it a day, jump into my comfys and
either just relax or try and find a good movie. Journal Day 12 - 9/13/05:
Howdy Friends, Neighbors, Family and
a couple of Rascals............ Now let me explain one of the major reasons I moved. First, let me point out that lodging in the Mobile area is at a premium. I pointed that out in a previous journal, but unless you are here, you really have no idea of the feeding frenzy that has been taking place. I was talking with a lady who owned a trailer court yesterday. While I was actually talking to her, less than thirty minutes, six different people drove in and asked if she had vacancies. It was eerie. It is a renters world here No deals, no long term discounts, no nothing. Just plain hard rent and that is at the premium price. Oil companies gouge and now the housing industry is doing the same thing. FEMA and other government agencies are throwing our dollars at these people to house the evacuees. Why would they want an ordinary person's money when dreams of fortunes are dancing in their heads. Someone made an estimate that it was going to run 300 BILLION to repair the storm damage that Katrina bestowed upon the south. Friends, that is as much as the wars in the Middle East have thus far cost. Don't sound right, but maybe it is. Now, back to the ranch. Sometimes I get sidetracked and that was one of them. The drive from Foley, though long, was a pleasant drive, except for a mile of that drive. A large part of the drive, several miles, was on an elevated highway crossing the bay at Mobile. One crosses the bay and thinks the city is there with normal streets and all. Wrong!!! Right after the elevated highway, there is a tunnel. Now I have gone through tunnels, when they occurred in my path, most of my life and have never had one bother me. This tunnel just happens to go under the very end of Mobile Bay. The problem lies in the fact that it goes DOWN. It goes down. The tunnel goes down. The damned tunnel goes down. That is an eerie feeling, believe me. I had no idea that I was in the least claustrophobic, but I guess there is a wee bit in me. I was almost clawing the windows of my van trying to get out. I had the feeling I was being submerged under water. Guess what? I was. Anyway, I do not, unless OSU wins a national championship or hell freezes over, whichever comes first, ever have to go under Mobile Bay again. Incidentally, I do not think OSU is going to ever win that elusive championship, so I believe I am fairly safe. It has been said that the day they win the national championship, that is the same day Hell will freeze over. To my friend Weird Wanda who lives in Branson, I am not sorry for the remarks made about OSU. OK, maybe a little bit. Wanda is a dyed in the wool, die hard OSU fan. She may never speak to me again. The south, especially the Deep South, is a colorful place to be. I am now in the land of all sorts of funny town names and the businesses here are strictly southern. Fasttrack gas, Loves Gas, Rite Aid and Wynn Dixie. There are a lot more, but those are the ones that readily come to mind. Oh yes, for those of you who really love seafood, this is the ultimate paradise. Tomorrow I start adjusting in a town called Prichard. I wonder is this is an omen, but that is the same spelling as my first wife's maiden name. Hmmm, it does make me wonder. I looked Prichard up on the Internet and found that in all crime categories, Prichard was usually at least three times the national average. Not a good place to live and certainly not a good place to adjust losses. Well, I
have moved today, set up an office for work and done the necessary
things one has to do to get the show on the road. Now I am going out
to eat. I hope this finds each and every one of you hearty, hale
with all limbs attached.
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