Finally, Things Are Looking Up

By LINDSAY PETERSON lpeterson@tampatrib.com

Published: Nov 25, 2005

EDITOR'S NOTE: This story is part of an occasional series following four families uprooted by Hurricane Katrina who are trying to build new lives in the Tampa Bay area.

TAMPA - Jimmy Phelps waited for the call.

It didn't come on Tuesday. Or Wednesday. "Yeah, I'm nervous," he said on a Thursday afternoon this month.

After losing nearly everything when Hurricane Katrina obliterated their Waveland, Miss., home on Aug. 29, he and his family are trying to build a new life in Hillsborough County.

Staying first with relatives in Sun City Center, they found an apartment near Brandon, with the American Red Cross and government agencies helping out with rent, food and other expenses. But time is running out on that help.

The food stamps could stop any day. The rent assistance ends in December. And as Phelps, 41, waited for the call, the three bedrooms, kitchen and living room off Causeway Boulevard became smaller and smaller.

"Some days I hate this place," he said. "I need to get out. I need to start working."

He'd been a manager for a lumber company in Waveland, and he needed a similar job here. He could grab something for minimum wage, but even combined with his wife's income, it would barely support them and their 14-year-old son. Their daughter, her boyfriend and the couple's 7-month-old baby came with them from Waveland and now live a few doors away.

Two months ago, he was the one urging his wife, Denise, 39, to move forward, away from her persistent thoughts of everything they had lost. The comfortable living room couch. The family pictures. Every shirt, shoe and earring.

Everything they hadn't packed before the storm hit was blasted into the Gulf of Mexico or across the Mississippi countryside.

Soon after they arrived, they tried to go back, thinking they had to see what had happened to their home just steps from the Gulf. But they got about 50 miles up the road and turned back, realizing there was nothing to see but rubble. "I loved it there," Jimmy said at the time. "But what's to love when it's all gone?"

At times, Denise could barely stand the loss, she said. Without warning she would break down crying.

It wasn't just her stuff. She missed her life, the people, the neighbors who would check on their house when they weren't there or come and help if their car broke down. A few remained in Waveland, but most were gone, scattered like the Phelpses in the panic of the hours before Katrina hit.

"It's like the whole community was just taken apart," Denise said.

The generosity of the people here pulled her through it, she said. The family received new clothes and furniture. But the thing that buoyed her most came when they attended a service at Bay Life Church in Brandon, not long after they arrived. A little boy approached her and said he had sold his toys to raise money for hurricane victims, and he handed her his $15.

Normalcy Returns

As the weeks went on, Denise was hired to work part time at a Brandon pet store. An entertainment center replaced the red cooler that had served as a television stand. Dishes began to fill a new hutch.

But the bills came, too. The electric company in Waveland located the family in Florida and said they owed about $300. A representative said the company had found their home's electric meter in some nearby woods.

Denise continued to call the Federal Emergency Management Agency to find out about reimbursement for their losses. At the end of October, two months after Katrina, the agency still had no answers for them. She spent two hours on the telephone one afternoon waiting for someone to explain what was happening.

A frustrated Jimmy e-mailed the White House.

Meanwhile, he continued to search for work, applying at department stores across Brandon, holding out for something in management. In Mississippi, he'd pulled ahead on the bills, and he and Denise could finally afford a home of their own. But not now, Jimmy realized when he scanned the real estate advertisements here.

"There's no way a working person could afford those prices," he said as he waited for job news. "I don't know if we can stay here. I don't know what we're going to do."

Sitting across from him on the couch, Denise said she had faith they'd be all right. "You just need to get out," she said to Jimmy.

"Where?" he shot back. "Where do you go when you don't have any money?"

To give him a break, Denise's father arranged for a golf game the next day in Sun City Center. Jimmy didn't expect it to be much of a relief, but before he walked out the door the phone rang. It was the manager at Bealls department store in Sun City Center.

They wanted to hire him. He passed a background check. All that was left was for his driver's license to check out. It did.

Hassles Without End

On Nov. 15, Jimmy started training as a manager at Bealls.

He's relieved - "hugely," he said. But hassles keep coming. He sent a check to Mississippi to renew his car tags about a month ago, but he hasn't received them. He received a warning last week from the apartment management that without renewed tags, his GMC pickup could be towed.

He and Denise recently learned FEMA was working on their case but then checked their file on the Internet and saw it had been closed. They learned their eligibility for payment had been withdrawn because they couldn't be located. Funny, they thought. The electric company had no trouble finding them. By this time, because of their earlier complaints, they had a personal contact with an administrative assistant in the White House. Their case was reopened. "It's just one thing after another," he said. "But it's getting better." He likes his new job, and believes that they'll have their own house, one day.

For the moment, he just needs some good shoes. He dropped an iron gate on a foot several years ago and needs a good pair for standing all day. He had some in Mississippi, but Katrina blew them away.

Reporter Lindsay Peterson can be reached at (813) 259-783