homecoming
Thought I'd share this:
"When September Ends" debuted right before Katrina. I couldn't listen to it without crying for a long time.
This was good.
Thought I'd share this:
"When September Ends" debuted right before Katrina. I couldn't listen to it without crying for a long time.
This was good.
I didn't forget about part three of my Katrina posts, I just got a little derailed. Honestly, between the death of Steve Irwin and the 5-year 9/11 anniversary, I just didn't really feel like writing about Katrina. But here goes the "One Year Later" post.
One year after Katrina is pretty much a mixed bag. The key word for everything in the affected areas is "Patience." A close second is "Waiting." The biggest and most difficult hurdle for residents and rebuilders to face is the red tape. Some areas have come a long, long way in only a year. By January, most areas of Jefferson Parish (Metairie, Kenner) were allowing rebuilders to hook up FEMA trailers in the their front yards while they rebuilt. Orleans Parish was, and still is, a whole different matter. Due to yards and yards of red tape, residents are not allowed to hook up their FEMA trailers because the power isn't on. In order to get the power on, you have to have a power permit. The parish/city government is not issuing power permits, however, until they know how many people will be returning. People aren't returning, though, because they government won't issue power permits for them to move FEMA trailers into their yards and start rebuilding. There is a huge power struggle going on. Despite the absolute foolishness of some of Mayor Nagin's statements recently, he has produced some very good ideas about getting the city moving again, getting FEMA trailers into the Parish, getting residents moved back in. Unfortunately, the city council has been fighting him tooth and nail. Apparently, any idea they don't come up with can't be a good one. Or at least any idea they can't take credit for. In some areas, like St. Bernard Parish, residents are still waiting to find out the plan: will their house be a candidate to rebuild? will it be removed in order to strengthen levees? will it be a park? Slowly, but surely they are finding out and are finally able to make real decisions and plans for the future.
When my grandmother finally moved back into her house in July or so, she was the only person on her street back in. Now there are a number of people back into their houses. The main problem everywhere is just the waiting. Waiting for permission. Waiting for supplies. Waiting for workers. It takes weeks to get an electrician. The demand is so much higher than the supply. Some people are waiting to get FEMA trailers now that they have the permission to hook them up; others are waiting for FEMA to come pick up the ones they aren't using anymore. And everyone is waiting for enough people to move back so that the area will be stabilized.
The scariest problem now is, of course, the crime. Gang warfare has escalated phenominally in recent months as they fight over territory that was either abandoned by gangs who left or was theirs before and must be reclaimed. In the abscence of many older gangs and gang members due to evacuation, the gang members murdering each other in the streets are so young: 12, 13, 14. These kids need prayer and guidance. Business owners and police officers need support and prayer themselves. There is so much territory to patrol that when something does happen, it just takes too long for officers to get to the scene.
There are a lot of problems left to deal with. Katrina was devestating to this area. But good things are happening. The city is taking baby steps back to where it was, and hopefully beyond that to where it ought to be. I added some links after this. The first is to the city's website, the second to a map of the rebuilding. Though ya'll might find that interesting.
First of all, this post was hard for me to do. There are so many pictures to choose from. I tried hard to pick the ones that will mean the most to my readers--ones that tell the story for those of you without personal experience of the area. I haven't put captions on the pics because I lost track of which ones I uploaded when, but you won't need them, really. The pictures speak for themselves. A few things I'd like to point out: the pictures cover Slidell, New Orleans, and Plaquemines Parish; in one shot you will see a large boat on the side of the Interstate, about 2 miles from the north shore of the Lake;the indoor shot with the panelling walls is the house our aquaintances lived in in Slidell; the shot of the inside of the house (with the mauve furniture) is from the house where my dad grew up, in Gentilly; a couple of shots show the rescue marks, they also show where the water was at the time they were made; a couple of shots show the water lines as the pumps were finally brought back on line and slowly moved the water out of the city; one shot shows a house on stilts surrounded by other stilts--there used to be a group of houses there over the water, only one was left; one shot from Plaquemines shows a bridge with a group of masts pushed up against it; finally, everything that you see that's brown ought to be green--the saltwater destroyed most of the vegetation, including very old oak trees, in the city.
So. Here you go. To start you off, I put a link below to an area map.
So it's a year later. Watching films of Katrina and "Year Later" news coverage is not easy. It's so hard to convey the way it makes me feel. The only thing that I can use as an analogy that even resembles it is 9/11. For New Yorkers, the feeling of seeing a huge hole in the skyline has got to be similar to seeing a city you love and are close to completely inundated by water. These are places I have been many, many times. These are streets I have driven down. This is a city in which member of my family have lived and do live. A year later, many things are better than they might have been; many things are not as good as they could be. So, I think that I should break this into more than one post, for the sake of my reading public. haha. This post will be a...collage of what I wrote at the time, of some deeper thoughts in looking back. I'll post later on what I see happening now. I'll do a separate post of pictures. It is very hard to write about this without seeming melodramatic or apathetic. I will try to just be honest about what it was like here, less that 80 miles away, the closest city on the evacuation route, a city also wounded by the storm but trying to help.
August 28th
The day after my 27th birthday. I don't feel 27. How is one supposed to feel at 27? I still feel 20 and unsure of myself so much of the time. At any rate, my sister and her friends (some of whom are on the basketball team I coach) spent the last two weeks planning a surprise party for me that was held during youth group tonight. They were upset that more people couldn't come--they invited a ton--because Katrina is now headed our way. In fact, it started wind-ing and raining during youth. This one is big--N.O. has been evacuating since yesterday, today they're under a mandatory evacuation.
No one really thought the storm would be as dangerous as it was. After all, most of the people there have grown up weathering storms in the city without evacuation. Why should they worry now? The southern Parishes--Plaquemines and St.Bernard--have been steadily emptying the last couple of days. Most New Orleanians probably figure they'll just get stuck on the highway anyway. There aren't many rooms left in Baton Rouge.
At some point Sunday night, I really got into it with some guys on a forum. They were all full of ideas about what ought have been done, and when people ought to have evacuated. They've never even been here.
They have no idea what it's like here--that there's only one way out of south-east Louisiana and it's through New Orleans. A mandatory evacuation too soon would just clog the roads with people doomed to ride out the storm in their cars on the side of the road. And many New Orleanians are like New Yorkers--their identity comes from where they live, they don't want to leave, and kick up a fuss when forced to; it's better to let the southern parishes get out first.
August 29th
The storm started in the night--wind just whipping through the trees. If we had had a tornado, you'd never hear it over the wind that's pummeling everything around. I can't imagine what it's like near the eye. These are just 80ish winds with gusting--155 is hard to comprehend. The power went out early this morning; this afternoon we discovered it's because the line is down. In case you are wondering, it isn't because we didn't look out the windows, it's because with the wind and rain, we couldn't see out the windows.The wind is just fierce--it never stops. This evening it started dieing down. The silence is unnerving. Once you get used to the sound of the wind, not hearing sounds ominous. Power is out all around. Mom is listening to the battery operated radio that all good south-Louisianians have. We just want to hear word of New Orleans. Maw-maw is in Maryland at my aunt and uncle's, but we're worried about her house. Dad picked up her car on his way here Saturday after they shut the oil field in, but we don't know--she lives only two blocks from Lake Pontechartrain and with a storm like this, we're really afraid her neighborhood might have flooded.
It is so hard not to know anything. Sitting in the dark, listening to newscasters who only know what people call in and tell them. One woman called and complained for 20 minutes that her Cox Cable was still out. We were just flabbergasted. Here no one knows if an entire city has managed to survive the storm, and this woman is complaining about her cable being out. Frankly, the rest of the country probably knows more about what's happening in New Orleans than we do.
August 30th
This morning we learned that the levees broke. The city is just inundated. We don't know where Tommy is. Danny and Lynn went to Houston, but we haven't heard from Tommy at all. We don't even know where exactly the flooding is. We heard that French Quarter and Chalmette is flooded. We aren't sure about Bywater.
Later. From what we're hearing, not only is Metarie flooded (thanks to the 17th Street canal levee, etc.), but the 9th ward is flooded, too. I'm sure he evacuated, but without word. . . .There's no power anywhere, trees over roads, all of St. Bernard and Plaquemines parishes are under water. St. Tammany may be, but nobody has heard since there isn't any communication. All the cell phones are dead and land-lines are gone.
You don't really realize how important cell phones have become until you can't use them. All of these people who managed to grab their cell phones before evacuating, or climbing to the second floor, and it won't do them any good bacause all the towers are gone. Fragile. It's all so fragile.
September 1st
Tommy is in Arkansas, soon to be in North Carolina. My whole family breathed a collective sigh of relief.
September 2nd
My brother and sister and I went to a movie tonight. We've been sharing a two-bedroom, one bath trailer with a couple we vaguely know who evacuated Slidell (their house is on the north shore of Lake Pontechartrain). There is a lot of news watching--basically all the time--and I just can't take it anymore. My heart is so sickened at what people are having to endure. I'm just so overwhelmed. I needed a movie. I feel so selfish wishing for power; complaining at having to share this trailer with practical strangers. At least we have that. At least we have our own home to return to once the power goes back on. But I can't help it. Human nature winning over better impulses. I can't even imagine what it would be like to share to shelter with thousands of complete strangers; to only own a masked off square and the clothes on my back. Even for those who have homes to return to, I can't imagine the frustration of knowing that everything you own is in a flooded house that you won't be able to get back to for at least a month. Today was the day I boiled over. I reached the end of my heart. Watching these people go through another day of heat and confusion and desperation was too much for me. I stood in the shower this morning and just sobbed. What really kills me is the should-have-dones and the would-have-dones. Right. Because standing outside is just like being there. Everyone, looking back or in, has the best vision, the best plan, the best strategy.
I understand that for many people conjecturing and proclamating is the only way they can process what they are seeing. But it just makes me angry--especially when the people yipping have no idea what's really going on and who we really are. You know, the people who think Louisiana= bayous and moss, and New Orleans=Bourbon Street and jazz. It seems to be a sickness of sorts: nobody jumps on the downed cities and leaders of other places when disasters happen, but when it happens here the fault is obviously because we're stupid and don't plan anything. Of course, my response is to want to curl up in a whole, watch the news, and cry.
I've discovered through this that the news media, even to a certain extent the local news media, is like a pack that jumps on a wounded animal. There is some kind of perverse pleasure gained from only showing the bad angle, the mistake, the bad judgment call, the consequences of not planning for whatever minute detail they think should have been planned for. It would, in many ways, be much different had this not been a natural disaster. Then there would be some type of excuse, I guess. it is jsut so disheartening, though, to see the "kick 'em while they're down" attitude. Perhaps if you aren't from here, you couldn't see it so well. Instead you would see the look of sorrow and pity while a somber newscaster listed the horrible atrocities that were or might be occurring. But think about it: how many times did you hear about ineptness and then ensuing personal disasters, as opposed to things that did go right and would have gone right had the levees not broken. What few realize is that New Orleans did survive the storm. The pumps kept the city from flooding throughout the storm. Forseeing the levee breaks was beyond the powers of anyone concerned, so newscasters and others can sit around and preach what they would have done had they been there, but in reality, they would have done the same thing because they aren't psychic either.
September 4th
It appears that Tommy's house is definitely flooded. We heard that Metarie and Kenner are "drying up." That pretty much means that Maw-maw's house has had water in it. The question is how much. My aunt and uncle keep bugging Dad about them coming down with Maw-maw to check things out, etc. Dad keeps telling them there isn't anything we can do right now anyway. And no-one is going to be let in unless they have a Jefferson Parish i.d., so what exactly is the point? Plus, there isn't any power. I think it really bothers Dad that he's trying to help keep Maw-maw out of the worry zone and Ted and Lisa aren't helping. LIke any of us need the hassle of family arguments right now. Danny and Lynn have decided to go back to Maryland for now--hopefully he can get into a college up there to finish out the semester.
It seems to me that people's ideas of what has happened are either hyperbolic or understated. Either they have no idea the magnitude of the disaster, or they think it was the Apocalypse and riots of murderous gansters are roving through the waters taking over everything. Can I find someone to blame for that? Probably not. I have a feeling that a large part of that is that people often hear/see what they do through their own desired perceptions. Ted and Lisa want to believe that this was no big deal and Maw-maw will just have to air things out abit and then she'll be able to come home, so that's what they hear. After two rather long conversations, I still don't think Dad has convinced them how wrong they are.
September 6th
Well. Yesterday my siblings and I went to help out at a shelter here. We played with kids so parents could catch a break. I have so much respect for the people in this shelter. They've got nothing--many are from the inner city--yet you can see the hope and new-found pride they have. The realization that so many people want to help them has made an impact in their lives.
I was talking to a friend the other day (who was very glad that every one in my family was okay) and noting how so many poor black people have been robbed by their own "leaders." For so long they've been told that they deserve the government's help, that any problems they have are not their fault and the goverment should fix them, instead of being taught how to pick themselves up and make their own way. Now I know there are poor of all ethnicities, and many of them don't do for themselves as they ought--but black leaders have spent years crippling their own people with this dogma. Now, in a time a terrible disaster, all many of them know to do is just wait for the government. Not all, though. My favourite story is of a black man who saw an empty 18-wheeler sitting by the road, "commandeered" it, loaded as many people as he could into the back of it, and drove to Baton Rouge. That's leadership. Like he said, he knows you aren't supposed to steal a truck, but he had to start getting people out. And that if the owners wanted to get the truck back, it was right here at the gas station, they didn't need it anymore.
I continue to get so angry with the media footage--how many times can they show the same exact footage of the same looters? And you know what--most of the people are just taking food and necessities, why continuously show the ones who aren't? Why not show people grabbing water and sharing it with others over and over? Why not show the footage of volunteers with boats helping old ladies off of balocnies over and over? Why not show the 4,000 National Guard troops that have been there since the day of the storm helping people? Why do they always have to show the bad stuff over and over? Why do they only talk about the problems over and over? suddenly the media illness that has plagued the troops in Iraq (lets talk about dead bodies instead of troops helping and being helped) has struck here. I'm ranting a little I know. I'm just fed up.
September 8th
God bless every single person around this country who has given money, goods, and time to the people here and on the Gulf Coast. Americans are so giving. So giving.
Remember what I said earlier about stubborn New Orleanians? Notice that even now there are about 10,000 people who have refused to leave though given several chances. Nagan is pushing for a forced evacuation to prevent disease from breaking out. The water in the city. . .well, you only have to see a couple of pictures to figure it out. Search and resue is beginning to become body recovery, mainly on the gulf coast. The National Guard is still picking people off of roofs.
I have never ceased to be astonished and heart warmed by the massive influx of people with boats who rushed to the city to help rescue people. This is what humanity can be capable of when given grace. I watched the most unlikely heroes help families and individuals off of roofs and out of attics with no thoughts of race or economics. That is beautiful, and that is what we ought to be seeing more of. That is what brings me to my knees thinking about it every time.
September 10
We have power in our house again, thanks to some electric workers from Arkansas. They put up a new pole, restrung our line, and fixed the transformer. Bless them.
October 17
Two Saturdays ago I helped people from the shelters register at the FEMA trailer park in Baker, Louisiana. After five weeks in shelters, these people were ready to have their own space, even if it is just a travel trailer. There were, of course, a few people who were unsatisfied with anything they have been offered--finding fault in the trailer, wanting something different--but that is to be expected, really. For many, they are so frustrated with everything that they just don't feel like being nice about anything. And then there are just those who are never grateful no matter what happens to them. But for the most part, people were just genuinely happy to have something that is theirs--a space for them and their families, some privacy most of all. Some of these people were just heartbreakers--many people, including blacks (regardless of media frenzy), had to leave behind middle class jobs and middle class houses, decent schools for their kids--not that the losses of porr people are less dark for them, but somehow seeing a family used to a roomy house, people who had jobs to go to where they were useful, relegated to travel trailers was really hard. Maybe that makes me a classist, I don't know. Of course, I get very bothered by the media attention on only poor blacks. I'm not trying to deny that there is a segment of New Orleanian population that is poverty stricken, and that much of that population is black. That's true. The problem is it does such a disservice to the many--and I mean many--working class and upper class black families that have lost everything. You'd think black "leaders" would want to show the tragic losses of succesful black families instead of characaturing all black in N.O. as poor. But then, I suppose I'm execting too much. It's just irresponsible to ignore a large segment of the population as though their losses aren't important. Some of the greatest destruction was in working class and upper class subdivisions--where not only white, but asian and black families lived. And regardless of what the media seems to think, these losses are the worst for N.O. After all, these people live in these neighborhoods because they own businesses there. They are the employers of the city. Anyway, enough of my little rant. The poverty of N.O. is a terrible reality, but it isn't the only part of reality, either.
My parents went to check on my grandmother's house. It had had baout 2 and half feet of water or so in it. It won't need to be gutted, but it will need extensive work; and, she will need all new furniture. They also drove through the neighborhoods where they grew up (both of my parents grew up in N.O.). Dad said it was like a plague movie. Everything is dead--trees, grass. He said there weren't any cats or dogs, very few squirrels (which is really bizarre) and almost no birds. The water line on the house where my dad grew up in Gentily was just over the eaves--this is a house up on about three feet of pilings (like most houses there). The "no people, no pets" designation was spray painted on the top of the gable--because that's where the boat was when they got there to hack open the roof. The house had just been purchased and renovated by a young man for his soon-to-be wife. Now everything is gone, covered in mildew and bold. The house my great-grandmother used to live in is almost as bad--it was about a foot higher than my grandmother's old house. He said they drove through Lakeview and Bucktown--everything is covered in inches of mildew and dust. He said he seriously expected zombies to start appearing from behind the houses. Everything was just a bleak wasteland.
When I drove through New Orleans later, and Slidell, it was so surreal. The only way to conceivable describe the way it felt to me was to say that it seemed like everyone had suddenly vanished about ten years before. Like, "poof," they had just disappeared and left the city abandoned, that it had sat empty for years, and just now a few people were daring to return. Even that doesn't really catch it. It's the time factor. What I saw felt like it had happened over years--years--but it had happened in mere days. The creepiest of all was something my dad told me once he had returned to work. He drives up the west side of the Mississippi river from Venice, La., and crosses the river to go through New Orleans (that's the hurricane evacuation route for the southern parishes, as well). I don't know if any of you have ever seen a picture of New Orleans at night. It's beautiful--the curve of the river is so full of lights. I'll try to find a picture for you. He was coming back early in the morning, around 4, so it was dark outside. This time, he drove over the bridge to nothing. The city was completely dark. He said it was the most unsettling thing he had experienced in a long time.
I know this was a long post. But it was the best I could do. There is so much in my head and heart that I can't express. Perhaps more will come out later. I think it's very important for people to read what residents and neighbors went through--get a rounded picture. I'm out of words for now.
For some local news stories:
The Baton Rouge Advocate
http://www.nola.com
Here are some more post-Katrina pictures of Slidell New Orleans. I was talking with my mom the other day, lamenting that it's impossible to share with people who haven't spent time there, what it's like to see these cities so eerily devestated. She said it's even harder/more bizarre when you've grown up there. She told me that one of the guys my dad works with drives down I-65 through Slidell and N.O. to work every week and said that as he drove by the city, it was dark. The city isn't supposed to be dark. I can't really imagine seeing that--like a great black hole where there ought to be life.
Here are some pictures from New Orleans and Slidell. They pretty much speak for themselves.
article from the Washington Post
By Donna Brazile
Saturday, September 17, 2005 12:00:00; Page A21
New Orleans is my hometown. It is the place where I grew up, where my family still lives. For me, it is a place of comfort and memories. It is home.
Now my home needs your help, and the help of every American. Much of my city is still underwater. Its historical buildings have been wrecked, its famous streets turned to rivers and, worst of all, so many of its wonderful people -- including members of my own family and my neighbors -- have lost everything.
On Thursday night President Bush spoke to the nation from my city. I am not a Republican. I did not vote for George W. Bush -- in fact, I worked pretty hard against him in 2000 and 2004. But on Thursday night, after watching him speak from the heart, I could not have been prouder of the president and the plan he outlined to empower those who lost everything and to rebuild the Gulf Coast.
Bush called on every American to stand up and support the rebuilding of the region. He told us that New Orleans and the entire Gulf Coast would rise from the ruins stronger than before. He enunciated something that we all need to remember: This is America. We are not immune to tragedy here, but we are strong because of our industriousness, our ingenuity and, most important, because of our compassion for one another. We are a nation of rebuilders and a nation of givers. We do not give up in the face of tragedy, we stand up, and we reach out to help those who cannot stand up on their own.
The president called on every American to reach out to my neighbors in New Orleans and throughout the Gulf Coast. The great people of this country have already opened their hearts in the immediate aftermath of the storm, and their tremendous generosity has done more than just provide extra comfort -- it has saved lives. Now the crisis of survival is over. But the task of rebuilding remains, and the president made it clear that every single one of us has a role to play.
Each of us belongs to some group -- a church, a union or a fraternal organization, or even a book club -- that can make a difference. It is those groups that can pool resources and then reach out to their counterparts in the stricken states and ask, "What can we do?" Schools, Girl Scout troops, Rotary clubs -- this is the time for every community group to step forward to lend a helping hand. We need it.
The president also laid out the federal government's goal for rebuilding. It is unprecedented in its scope and ambition, matching destruction that is unprecedented as well. He made the challenge clear: This will be one of the biggest reconstruction projects in history. But he also made it clear that we can and will do this. New Orleans, Biloxi, all of the Gulf Coast will rise again. And the residents are ready to pitch in and do their part.
I know, maybe better than anyone, that there are times when it seems that our nation is too divided ever to heal. There are times when we feel so different from each other that we can hardly believe that we are all part of the same family. But we are one nation. We are a family. And this is what we do. When the president asked us to pitch in Thursday night, he wasn't really asking us to do anything spectacular. He was asking us to be Americans, and to do what Americans always do.
The president has set a national goal and defined a national purpose. This is something I believe with all my hearTITLE: When we are united, nothing can stop us. We will not waver, we will not tire, and we will not stop until the streets are clean, every last brick has been replaced and every last family has its home back.
Bush talked about how we bury our family and friends. We grieve and mourn. We march to a solemn song and then we rejoice and step out and form the second line. That line is now open to every American to join us in rebuilding a great region of this country. New Orleans will rise again. My hometown is down but not out, and with the help of every American, it will be back on its feet, bigger and brighter than ever.
Mr. President, I am ready for duty. I am ready to stir those old pots again. Let's roll up our sleeves and get to work.
The writer, a Democratic political consultant, managed Al Gore's 2000 presidential campaign
Well, it's been a little while since I posted, mostly because I've been buried in the Iliad. Not that it's bad to be buried in the Iliad, but I do get myself overwhelmed in research, etc. Since my last post, here's the main news:
Two Saturdays ago I helped people from the shelters register at the FEMA trailer park in Baker, Louisiana. After five weeks in shelters, these people were ready to have their own space, even if it is just a travel trailer. The facility is actually going to be quite nice--almost like an apartment complex. A catering company is providing three meals a day to the residents, they have a small building with washers and dryers set up, and soon will have a small community center for the residents. There were, of course, a few people who were unsatisfied with anything they have been offered--finding fault in the trailer, wanting something different--but that is to be expected, really. For many, they are so frustrated with everything that they just don't feel like being nice about anything. And then there are just those who are never grateful no matter what happens to them. But for the most part, people were just genuinely happy to have something that is theirs--a space for them and their families, some privacy most of all. Some of these people were just heartbreakers--many people, including blacks (regardless of media frenzy), had to leave behind middle class jobs and middle class houses, decent schools for their kids--not that the losses of porr people are less dark for them, but somehow seeing a family used to a roomy house, people who had jobs to go to where they were useful, relegated to travel trailers was really hard. Maybe that makes me a classist, I don't know. Of course, I get very bothered by the media attention on only poor blacks. I'm not trying to deny that there is a segment of New Orleanian population that is poverty stricken, and that much of that population is black. That's true. The problem is it does such a disservice to the many--and I mean many--working class and upper class black families that have lost everything. You'd think black "leaders" would want to show the tragic losses of succesful black families instead of characaturing all black in N.O. as poor. But then, I suppose I'm execting too much. It's just irresponsible to ignore a large segment of the population as though their losses aren't important. Some of the greatest destruction was in working class and upper class subdivisions--where not only white, but asian and black families lived. And regardless of what the media seems to think, these losses are the worst for N.O. After all, these people live in these neighborhoods because they own businesses there. They are the employers of the city. Anyway, enough of my little rant. The poverty of N.O. is a terrible reality, but it isn't the only part of reality, either.
At any rate, I was thoroughly blessed by my day at the trailer park. What never ceases to amaze me is the fellowship of believers. Not only were there several believers there from the area volunteering, there was a church group from New Jersey that had come down for the week to help at the park. I am always fascinated that you can meet believers from anywhere in the world and it doesn't really seem like you've just met. The common bond of Christ is fascinating. Working with these people was such a blessing. And meeting evacuees was a blessing, too. Such a reminder to me of what God has given me.
This past Saturday, my parents went to meet my uncle, aunt and grandmother in Metarie. Dad said her house isn't too bad. All the floors are a loss and most of the furniture (only a couple of peices were salvageable). The appliances and bottom kitchen cupboards were destroyed (and gross). My uncle's friend, Jack, is going to renovate for her--he wants to update the floorplan while he's at it and she's a little unsure--frankly, I think she's still in shock about everything. They also drove through the neighborhoods where they grew up (both of my parents grew up in N.O.). Dad said it was like a plague movie. Everything is dead--trees, grass. He said there weren't any cats or dogs, very few squirrels (which is really bizarre) and almost no birds. The water line on the house where my dad grew up in Gentily was just over the eaves--this is a house up on about three feet of pilings (like most houses there). The "no people, no pets" designation was spray painted on the top of the gable--because that's where the boat was when they got there to hack open the roof. The house had just been purchased and renovated by a young man for his soon-to-be wife. Now everything is gone, covered in mildew and bold. The house my great-grandmother used to live in is almost as bad--it was about a foot higher than my grandmother's old house. He said they drove through Lakeview and Bucktown--everything is covered in inches of mildew and dust. He said he seriously expected zombies to start appearing from behind the houses. Everything was just a bleak wasteland. The Baptist Seminary was completely flooded. All the crepemyrtles that used to line Elysian Fields avenue are just gone--killed by the saltwater floods of Katrina, blown down by Rita. I was afraid to ask about the oaks in City Park. Dad has to go back to pick up his truck (he left it at Jiffy Lube to get the fluids changed--it flooded up to the transmission)--I hope to go with him and take pictures. Ya'll have to understand, these are places I grew up around. I can't really even fathom it all being dead, houses with water lines at the eaves, mud covering everything. It's just unbelievable. I'm not even sure that seeing it will make the pieces fit.
On a far lighter note--a survey I stole from a friend
1. What is your full name? renee annette doiron
2. What color pants are you wearing? denim
3. What are you listening to right now? local news
4. What was the last thing you ate? goldfish
5. Do you wish on stars? yes
6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? silver, it's glittery
7. How is the weather right now? absolutely lovely
8. Last person you spoke to on the phone? my uncle David
9. Do you like the person who sent this to you? of course
10. How old are you today? 27
11. Favorite drink? cherry limeade
12. Favorite sports? soccer and baseball
13. Hair color? mousy blonde
14. Do you wear contacts? no
15. Siblings? younger brother, younger sister
16. Favorite month? august
17. Favorite food? my mom's jambalaya
18. What's the last movie you have seen? troy
19. Favorite day of the year? halloween :)
20. What do you do to vent anger? if sarcasm doesn't work, yell
21. What was your favorite toy as a child? my little pony
22. Summer or winter? summer
23. Hugs or kisses? hugs, usually
24. Chocolate or vanilla? chocolate
25. Do you want your friends to e-mail you back? sure thing
26. Who is most likely to respond? i skip this question
27. Who is least likely to respond? ditto
28. When was the last time you cried? saturday night at A Chorus Line
29. What is under your bed? crap, and my design files
30. Who is the friend you have known the longest? ummm, and still contact regulary? margaret villagomez
31. What did you do last night? helped my brother with papers
32. What are you afraid of? being useless, hights, rejection
33. Plain buttered or salted popcorn? buttery (but kettlecorn is even better)
34. Favorite car? bentley two-door
35. Favorite flower? lily-of-the-valley
36. Number of keys on your key ring? 7 or 8, i think
37. How many years at your current job? some months
38. Favorite day of the week? tuesday
39. What did you do on your last birthday? pitched my literature co-op at a home school meeting
40. How many states have you lived in? 2: Louisiana and Florida
41. How many cities have you lived in? 5: Lafayette, La.; Baton Rouge, La.; Walker, La.; Denham Springs, La.; Pensacola, Fl.
42. What is your favorite football team? if i really cared about football, i guess i'd have to go with LSU
43. What is your favorite candy? reese's pieces, or dots
Just a quick update--I'll write a longer entry later. Please be in prayer: Nagan is allowing residents of the 9th Ward to return during the day to begin clean-up, etc. I can't imagine what it must be like--many of these people's homes flooded twice: Katrina, and then again during Rita (it rained around 9 inches in less than 24 hours). For many people, that first sight it is very discouraging. Also, it's now been a month--for many people frustration and discouragement will begin giving way to depression. Please pray for them--for strength, for courage, for a clear path. They need prayer now as much as ever before.
Times Picayne (New Orleans daily newspaper) writer Chris Rose wrote the following editorial:
DEAR AMERICA - a letter from our Louisiana brothers and sisters displaced due to Katrina
Dear America,
I suppose we should introduce ourselves: We're South Louisiana.
We have arrived on your doorstep on short notice and we apologize for that, but we never were much for waiting around for invitations. We're not much on formalities like that. And we might be staying around your town for a while, enrolling in your schools and looking for jobs, so we wanted to tell you a few things about us. We know you didn't ask for this and neither did we, so we're just going to have to make the best of it.
First of all, we thank you. For your money, your water, your food, your prayers, your boats and buses and the men and women of your National Guards, fire departments, hospitals and everyone else who has come to our rescue.
We're a fiercely proud and independent people, and we don't cotton much to outside interference, but we're not ashamed to accept help when we need it. And right now, we need it. Just don't get carried away. For instance, once we get around to fishing again, don't try to tell us what kind of lures work best in your waters. We're not going to listen. We're stubborn that way.
You probably already know that we talk funny and listen to strange music and eat things you'd probably hire an exterminator to get out of your yard. We dance even if there's no radio. We drink at funerals. We talk too much and laugh too loud an live too large and, frankly, we're suspicious of those who don't. But we'll try not to judge you while we're in your town.
Everybody loves their home, we know that. But we love South Louisiana with a ferocity that borders on the pathological. Sometimes we bury our dead in LSU sweatshirts.
Often we don't make sense. You may wonder why, for instance - if we could only carry one small bag of belongings with us on our journey to your state - why in God's name did we bring a pair of shrimp boots? We can't really explain that. It is what it is.
You've probably heard that many of us stayed behind. As bad as it is, many of us cannot fathom a life outside of our border, out in that place we call Elsewhere. The only way you could understand that is if you have been there, and so many of you have. So you realize that when you strip away all the craziness and bars and parades and music and architecture and all that hooey, really, the best thing about where we come from is us. We are what made this place a national treasure. We're good people. And don't be afraid to ask us how to pronounce our names. It happens all the time.
When you meet us now and you look into our eyes, you will see the saddest story ever told. Our hearts are broken into a thousand pieces. But don't pity us. We're gonna make it. We're resilient. After all, we've been rooting for the Saints for 35 years. That's got to count for something.
OK, maybe something else you should know is that we make jokes at inappropriate times. But what the ----. (McKnightly editorial change)
And one more thing: In our part of the country, we're used to having visitors. It's our way of life. So when all this is over and we move back home, we will repay to you the hospitality and generosity of spirit you offer to us in this season of our despair.
That is our promise. That is our faith.
Chris Rose an be reached at noroses@bellsouth.net.
In a week and a half, my city has become a new place. And I'm not about to complain about it. In fact, in many ways I think it will be a good thing both for the city and for the people we have added. For those of you who don't know, I live in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. My parents grew up in New Orleans. My grandmother lives in Metarie. My dad's cousin lives in the 9th Ward (in Bywater). My cousina and his wife live in Kenner and he goes to UNO. So this disaster is truly home-hitting. My family was out of power until yesterday, so I typed out some thoughts on my laptop as we shared the church's extra trailer with a couple from the Slidell northshore. I've attempted to place them into an order.
August 28th
The day after my 27th birthday. I don't feel 27. How is one supposed to feel at 27? I still feel 20 and unsure of myself so much of the time. At any rate, my sister and her friends (some of whom are on the basketball team I coach) spent the last two weeks planning a surprise party for me that was held during youth group tonight. They were upset that more people couldn't come--they invited a ton--because Katrina is now headed our way. In fact, it started wind-ing and raining during youth. This one is big--N.O. has been evacuating since yesterday, today they're under a mandatory evacuation. I got into it a little with some guys on the message board about whether or not Blanco and Nagan were taking this seriously enough. They felt that they weren't, that a mandatory evacuation should have been called on Friday when the path model changed. They have no idea what it's like here--that there's only one way out of south-east Louisiana and it's through New Orleans. A mandatory evacuation too soon would just clog the roads with people doomed to ride out the storm in their cars on the side of the road. And many New Orleanians are like New Yorkers--their identity comes from where they live, they don't want to leave, and kick up a fuss when forced to; it's better to let the southern parishes get out first. One of the guys is from coastal Florida and does know a lot about hurricanes in Florida. Hurricanes in south Louisiana are a very different matter. Nagan and Blanco are doing everything they can right now. Everything beyond is up to God.
August 29th
The storm started in the night--wind just whipping through the trees. If we had had a tornado, you'd never hear it over the wind that's pummeling everything around. I can't imagine what it's like near the eye. These are just 80ish winds with gusting--155 is hard to comprehend. The power went out early this morning; this afternoon we discovered it's because the line is down. The wind is just fierce--it never stops. This evening it started dieing down. The silence is unnerving. Once you get used to the sound of the wind, not hearing sounds ominous. Power is out all around. Mom is listening to the battery operated radio that all good south-Louisianians have. We just want to hear word of New Orleans. Maw-maw is in Maryland at my aunt and uncles, but we're worried about her house. Dad picked up her car on his way here Saturday after they shut the field in, but we don't know--she lives only two blocks from the lake and with a storm like this, we're really afraid her neighborhood might have flooded.
August 30th
This morning we learned that the levees broke. The city is just inundated. We don't know where Tommy is. Danny and Lynn went to Houston, but we haven't heard from Tommy at all. We don't even know where exactly the flooding is. We heard that French Quarter and Chalmette is flooded. We aren't sure about Bywater.
Later. From what we're hearing, not only is Metarie flooded (thanks to the 17th Street canal levee, etc.), but the 9th ward is flooded, too. I'm sure he evacuated, but without word. . . .There's no power anywhere, trees over roads, all of St. Bernard and Plaquemines parishes are under water. St. Tammany may be, but nobody has heard there isn't any communication. All the cell phones are dead and land-lines are gone. Stefan called the house this afternoon. He and his wife have been living in Slidell. They evacuated, but now they don't have anywhere to go. We invited them to stay with us. Of course, we don't have any power, but. . . .They're really worried about their house and his job. Their house is right on the north shore of the lake--it's an old fishing camp--so they are pretty confident that it's just gone. He works in Covington which we've heard has flooded. There isn't power anywhere.
September 1st
Tommy is in Arkansas, soon to be in North Carolina. My whole family breathed a collective sigh of relief.
September 2nd
My brother and sister and I went to a movie tonight. We've been sharing a two-bedroom, one bath trailer with Stefan and Amanda. There is a lot of news watching--basically all the time--and I just can't take it anymore. My heart is so sickened at what people are having to endure. I'm just so overwhelmed. I needed a movie. I feel so selfish wishing for power; complaining at having to share this trailer with practical strangers. At least we have that. At least we have our own home to return to once the power goes back on. But I can't help it. Human nature winning over better impulses. I can't even imagine what it would be like to share to shelter with thousands of complete strangers; to only own a masked off square and the clothes on my back. Even for those who have homes to return to, I can't imagine the frustration of knowing that everything you own is in a flooded house that you won't be able to get back to for at least a month. Today was the day I boiled over. I reached the end of my heart. Watching these people go through another day of heat and confusion and desperation was too much for me. I stood in the shower this morning and just sobbed. What really kills me is the should-have-dones and the would-have-dones. Right. Because standing outside is just like being there. Everyone, looking back or in, has the best vision, the best plan, the best strategy. I?m not excusing the obvious malfunctions all along the line. I'm not excusing the lack of co-ordination and the need for a faster, better response. I'm not. The fact is all those things are true--there ought to have been more done faster. But the fact is also that there wasn't. And sitting around telling the t.v. what ought to be happening changes nothing. Reporters bemoaning the state of affairs and finding some way to question the President and blame Mayor Nagan (the best mayor the city's seen in a long time) because of it does nothing. The only thing that can be done now is to get off respective asses and change things now. I know it's just a frustration of the part of some--like my dad and Stefan, because the only way they know to respond is to discuss the better way to do things. Like how they critique movies by "If he really shot both barrels, he would've gone through the wall . . ." But it just makes me angry--especially when the people yipping have no idea what's really going on and who we really are. You know, the people who think Louisiana= bayous and moss, and New Orleans=Bourbon Street and jazz. It seems to be a sickness of sorts: nobody jumps on the downed cities and leaders of other places when disasters happen, but when it happens here the fault is obviously because we're stupid and don't plan anything. Of course, my response is to want to curl up in a whole, watch the news, and cry. That doesn't help, either. I just don't know what to do. I'm so close, but there's nothing I know to do. I want to help people rebuild or clean out, but they aren't even all out of danger yet. I want a flat boat and a truck so I can go down and help with search and rescue. I want to be able to give money to help people. But I can't do any of those things. I feel completely useless. The last times I felt that way the disasters were far away: Turkey, New York, Indonesia. This is in my own backyard and I can't do anything.
September 4th
Tommy's house is definitely flooded. We heard that Metarie and Kenner are "drying up." That pretty much means that Maw-maw's house has had water in it. The question is how much. My aunt and uncle keep bugging Dad about them coming down with Maw-maw to check things out, etc. Dad keeps telling them there isn't anything we can do right now anyway. And no-one is going to be let in unless they have a Jefferson Parish i.d., so what exactly is the point? Plus, there isn't any power. I think it really bothers Dad that he's trying to help keep Maw-maw out of the worry zone and Ted and Lisa aren't helping. LIke any of us need the hassle of family arguments right now. Danny and Lynn have decided to go back to Maryland for now--hopefully he can get into a college up there to finish out the semester.
September 6th
Well. Yesterday my siblings and I went to help out at a shelter here. We played with kids so parents could catch a break. I have so much respect for the people in this shelter. They've got nothing--many are from the inner city--yet you can see the hope and new-found pride they have. The realization that so many people want to help them has made an impact in their lives. The realization that you can't depend on the government to help you may make a change in their lives. Frankly, I think for so many of the people who have depended on gvment assistance for so long, this may be just the opportunity they need to see that they can do for themselves. I was talking to a friend the other day (who was very glad that every one in my family was okay) and noting how so many poor black people have been robbed by their own "leaders." For so long they've been told that they deserve the government's help, that any problems they have are not their fault and the goverment should fix them, instead of being taught how to pick themselves up and make their own way. Now I know there are poor of all ethnicities, and many of them don't do for themselves as they ought--but black leaders have spent years crippling their own people with this dogma. Now, in a time a terrible disaster, all many of them know to do is just wait for the government. Not all, though. My favourite story is of a black man who saw an empty 18-wheeler sitting by the road, "commandeered" it, loaded as many people as he could into the back of it, and drove to Baton Rouge. That's leadership. Like he said, he knows you aren't supposed to steal a truck, but he had to start getting people out. And that if the owners wanted to get the truck back, it was right here at the gas station, they didn't need it anymore. In this horrendous situation, people are learning that they can do for themselves. At any rate, the military has moved in and squleched the bad element that was making everyone else look bad. I got so angry with the media footage--how many times can they show the same exact footage of the same looters? And you know what--most of the people are just taking food and necessities, why continuously show the ones who aren't? Why not show people grabbing water and sharing it with others over and over? Why not show the footage of volunteers with boats helping old ladies off of balocnies over and over? Why not show the 4,000 National Guard troops that have been there since the day of the storm helping people? Why do they always have to show the bad stuff over and over? Why do they only talk about the problems over and over? suddenly the media illness that has plagued the troops in Iraq (lets talk about dead bodies instead of troops helping and being helped) has struck here. I'm ranting a little I know. Im just fed up.
September 8th
God bless every single person around this country who has given money, goods, and time to the people here and on the Gulf Coast. Americans are so giving. So giving. I was so impressed by a team of doctors from the Carolinas who have set up a trauma unit in the Bay St. Louis tent city to help. And I know that we don't always think so highly of the personal lives of our celebrities, but so many of them are doing so much down here. Things are turning around. And what I said earlier about stubborn New Orleanians? Notice that even now there are about 10,000 people who have refused to leave though given several chances. Nagan is pushing for a forced evacuation to prevent disease from breaking out. The water in the city. . .well, you only have to see a couple of pictures to figure it out. Search and resue is beginning to become body recovery, mainly on the gulf coast. The National Guard is still picking people off of roofs. Stefan and Amanda got to Slidell and saw their house--they'll be trying to find a new place to live. But he does still have his job. That's a real blessing.
I'm so proud of the help everyone is giving. I'm so proud of the cities who have taked in the evacuees. I hope the evacuees take advantage of every new opportunity they are given by this--the silver lining. I pray that separated fammilies find each other. I pray that we all can adjust as we need to (the traffic is terrible here now!) and become better people because of this change. I hope everyone who read this will find a way to give.
www.shareyourhome.org
www.redcross.org