How I Met Hurricane Camille

By Jonathan Edwards

Hurricane Camille 300 mi. W. of Key West, Fla. 16 Aug. 1969 (Graphic by NOAA)

It was the Summer of ’69 and I was a little boy living in Memphis, Tenn. My father was in the U.S. Coast Guard, assigned to the USCGC Sycamore.

There came a day when the big people were talking about rough weather coming in. There was an empty field across the street and I was out there with my father and brother, and we were flying a kite. I looked up in the sky and didn’t see anything other than a clear blue sky. Then I turned around and I saw this one dark little cloud. I must have missed what was casting the shadow. I remember thinking how unusual it was that this little cloud was all by itself and dark.

We all went inside and I don’t know how much time passed, but it was probably right after lunch. My father had one of his Coast Guard buddies over, and I was in the kitchen nook, which had a view overlooking the lake. Right then Camille showed up. While I was looking out over the lake and at the blue sky—I’ve never seen anything like it before or since—the cloud came in like a dark window shade that stretched across the entire sky. Literally with the speed of a wave of the arm the sky went dark. The storm was tremendous. Lightning seemed to dance off the wood panneling. My parents moved me away from the window. It was so scary that I was just looking at that wall, and it seemed that there was some kind shape being reflected onto it by the lightning. I remember them talking about a tornado. I really thought this might be it.

Fortunately, the only damage I remember seeing was a large sycamore tree that was just down the road had been hit by lightning, and it was shattered and splayed out in all directions.

Camille was still a tropical storm when she passed right over Memphis. The name ‘Camille’ still strikes terror in the hearts of those who lived through it on the Gulf Coast. For years afterward Camille defined what it meant to be a land-falling Category 5 hurricane.