As a little child, I can picture in my mind, standing in my Uncle James’s shop eating raw oysters as quickly as my Meme and Papa could open them. Oh the taste!
THE OIL IS SO BLACK GOD PLEASE HEAL OUR LAND.
I remember walking out to the end of my Papa George Zirlott’s driveway waiting for him to come home carrying his lunch box up to the house after his long day on the oyster reef.
THE OIL IS SO BLACK GOD PLEASE HEAL OUR LAND.
I remember long hot days spent on the beach playing in the sand and taking a nice cool dip in the water at Aunt Katie’s beach house on the bay. Oh, the memories!
THE OIL IS SO BLACK GOD PLEASE HEAL OUR LAND.
I remember walking along the shoals picking up oysters building a huge driftwood fire and roasting and eating them. Oh, how good they tasted!
THE OIL IS SO BLACK GOD PLEASE HEAL OUR LAND.
I remember as a young girl going with my mother to cedar point tying a rock and a chicken neck in the bottom of a crab pot and pulling it up with just a few crabs in it. Oh, the excitement!
THE OIL IS SO BLACK GOD PLEASE HEAL OUR LAND.
I remember taking a boat ride out to Cat Island getting off on shore walking the beach seeing gull eggs hatching out. Oh, so much fun!
THE OIL IS SO BLACK GOD PLEASE HEAL OUR LAND.
I remember digging through the pile of oyster shells on my father's cull board finding a small crab, putting it on a hook and hanging it over the side as Daddy culled off, feeling a tug on the line and pulling up a big sheep head. Oh, the feeling!
THE OIL IS SO BLACK GOD PLEASE HEAL OUR LAND.
I remember standing on the small wharf in front of Uncle Milton’s house watching Uncle Rink throw the cast net over and over pulling up mullet putting them in the bucket. Oh, what fun!
THE OIL IS SO BLACK GOD PLEASE HEAL OUR LAND.
I remember waiting till midnight till the tide was low walking Alabama Port beach picking up soft shell crabs always hoping they were soft when we picked them up. They weren’t always. Ouch!
THE OIL IS SO BLACK GOD PLEASE HEAL OUR LAND.
I remember piling into the car going to the dock seeing the shrimp boat coming up the bayou waving at Daddy with excitement watching him throw the rope over the huge pilling to tie the boat up. Running up the wharf and watching each box of shrimp being unloaded from the hold. Oh, what memories!
THE OIL SO BLACK GOD PLEASE HEAL OUR LAND.
I remember standing watching daddy and mama open oysters seeing each one slide into the bucket then watching Mama dredge each oyster in corn meal and frying them until golden brown. Oh, what a wonderful smell!
THE OIL IS SO BLACK GOD PLEASE HEAL OUR LAND.
Last, I remember standing in a crab shop picking crabs to pay for a long white gown, flowers and a wedding cake; not much money made hard work. But thankful for each dime.
THE OIL IS SO BLACK GOD PLEASE HEAL OUR LAND.
I know each and every person here has memories of their own. How our lives have depended on this place, the water, and oh what it means to each and every one of us. Maybe sometimes we have taken it for granted thinking it will always be here, but as we have seen in the last few months we should never take it for granted again. Our beautiful water, beaches, bayous, our way of life has been spoiled. We want them back! So please continue to pray and ask God TO PLEASE HEAL OUR LAND!
Written by Amanda Zirlott Megginson
If my people, who are called by My Name, will humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways then will I hear from Heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land. 2 CHRONICLES 7:14
