This is an opinion column

There were piles of storm debris on all sides of the streets. Street after street. Rows of piles. Piles so high they looked like ragged fences, outlining windblown yards and tarp draped houses.

The scale of destruction is overwhelming weeks after the storm. Not much looks the same. I had to go down the same street twice, double checking, just to prove to myself Sturdivant Hall is still Sturdivant Hall.

Things look different. It takes a longer pause at stop signs to recognize familiar streets. It was at such a pause that through the piles of massive tree trunks, and limbs I noticed a door. A front door on a typical house in a row of typical houses, decked to the nines with Mardi Gras décor.

It was a grey day. But the gold and green and purple metallic sparkled. It was the only bright spot I could see anywhere in the radius at the four-way-stop where I was sitting.

My first thought was why would anybody bother to decorate a door in the midst of all of the destruction, but even before I could finish the thought, I knew the answer.

Behind me a young guy was crouched beside his car parked on the side of the street, working on the left front tire. A white Red Cross bucket served as a tool box. Out of state crews were stringing power lines. Life in Selma goes on. It must. Even within the enormity of the destruction, the devastation, and the loss, time ticks forward. Residents have no choice but to follow suit.

Selma’s dominant role in the Black Belt cannot be dismissed. It is why tour busses visit. It is why people drive through parts of the city just to appreciate the natural beauty of the oaks and admire the architecture of the historical homes and churches of the Old Town Historic District. It is the largest historic district in the state that spans from long before the Civil War to beyond the 1960s Voting Rights Movement and marches.

Even before the storm, Selma had its struggles. Crime is high, there are vacant buildings, and abandoned homes. Poverty is prevalent.

That is all shielded for now in the wake of the storm and will not be noticed over the next few days as tens of thousands of people are expected to pour into the city to celebrate the annual Bridge Crossing Jubilee. There will be dignitaries, politicians, celebrities, and the national media.

They are going to be initially overwhelmed by what they see.

There will still be music though, and hopefully the vendors will still come. Downtown will become a festival. And some may wonder why. Why is Selma celebrating? There may even be lifelong residents questioning, how can we celebrate amidst such destruction?

The Battle of Selma…was lost. The city burnt in 1865.

Selma, is not new to setbacks.

But out of those ashes, a new city emerged. A city strong enough to win the battle of African Americans to have the right to vote, exactly 100 years later.

Struggle has a way of creating a beautiful, resilient character in a place and its people.

Celebrate, Selma. Decorate your doors, come out, commune as one with your community.

There is no battle to fight. No struggle to overcome. There is a lot left to clean up. It was a strong storm, but Selma…is much stronger.

Amanda Walker is a columnist and contributor with AL.com, The Birmingham News, Selma Times Journal, Thomasville Times, West Alabama Watchman, and Alabama Gazette. Contact her at [email protected] or at https://www.facebook.com/AmandaWalker.Columnist.