Katrina - Four Years Later (Part 4)

Mark and I got into the city on September 28, 2005. It was almost exactly a month from the day the levees broke. He had a military ID card that allowed us to gain entry from the interstate in Gentilly. Jefferson Parish was bustling with activity. Orleans Parish was quite the opposite. Some areas were still flooded. We tried to move across the city down Canal Boulevard, but the low lying areas were impassable.

We wound through the streets dodging limbs, cars, boats and other debris. Off of Elysian Fields we passed a home with a handicapped ramp. The mark outside indicated that a body had been found inside. We stopped for a moment to let the idea sink in. As we moved on we watched the marks move from the area near the front door on some places to the roofs of others. The water was too high at the time these houses were checked to enter through the door so holes had been cut in the roof and marks left behind. Coming over one bridge in Lakeview we found a boat still tied to the bridge in the roadway. It reminded us to be much more careful as we moved forward.

When we made it to my neighborhood the news wasn't good. A large home on the corner had burnt to the ground. I'm still not sure what happened and it left the area less recognizable. It was similar to the first time I went to my parents' house after the storm. The area looked so different with pine logs stacked 8 feet high along most of the highway. I passed the entrance to their neighborhood without even realizing it. I'd lived there for 8 years, but nothing looked the same. Nothing at all.

At my house, my car sat in the driveway covered in a gray film. Items that had been on the seats were now on the dashboard. It had a fuzzy covering of mold everywhere and lines indicating how the water receded. Mark removed my diver's flag license plate that he had given to me and tried to clean it up a little. I took some pictures, closed the door and left the car key on the windshield. The insurance company would have their proof.

Opening the front door was no easy task. The wood had swollen shut and we had to use a sledgehammer to enter. Inside, it looked as though a bomb had gone off. Despite being three feet off the ground, two feet of water had still filled the house. Mold had begun creeping up the walls and there were tiny brown frogs everywhere. Furniture had collapsed causing the destruction of even more things. I took the comforter off of my bed and the sheets below were mildewed.

I was an emotional wreck as I went through photo albums to salvage what I could. We worked for hours and it didn't feel like we made any progress. We drug the refrigerator to the front of the house being careful not to let the black sludge touch us. An hour or so before dusk we took some sentimental things that had survived and left for Mark's house.

It was like night and day, the differences in the two neighborhoods. Mark lived closer to the river than me, but only about four miles away. While my neighborhood was gray and lifeless, his was vibrant with blooming hibiscus and power! Holy crap, he had power! Most of the city didn't have power. His Mardi Gras lights lit up the entrance way as we walked into the sweet air conditioning. One second later we were hit with the most nauseating stench imaginable.

One major danger of losing power as a south Louisiana resident is the danger of losing your freezer contents. For example, it would be really bad if you had 50 pounds of beautiful Louisiana brown shrimp in your freezer that liquefied in the heat. Yes, it would be very bad. And it was.

More black sludge to avoid and another refrigerator to drag outside. Ew.

The water wasn't potable but I did hop in the shower to rinse off the crud from the day. We gathered a few of Mark's things headed out of the city as the curfew was going into effect. The National Guard took pity on us and just let us go. We were emotionally and physically exhausted.

The only way to describe what we saw is to think of every end-of-the-world movie you can imagine and make your city the star. Darkness, lifelessness, abandoned structures, stench - it was all there. That's the picture that I try to remember when I look at where we are today. That's the main image that helps me to see how far we've come in these last four years.

Katrina - Four Years Later (Part 3)

I realized over here at part 3 of my story that I have named these "Four years later" and I haven't said anything about how things are today. I guess this is one of those time where you have to know where you've been to figure out how far you've come.

Back to the story...

A lot of things were happening all at once. While we were at my sister's house in New Jersey we were trying to track down unaccounted for friends, relatives and still, the pets. A friend of my Dad's was notorious for riding these things out at his home in Violet, Louisiana in St. Bernard Parish. We knew that every structure in St. Bernard had flooded, but couldn't find out any details about the family friend.

We scoured sites looking for and posting updates. It was exhausting trying to find people you knew and trying to let people who were looking for you know that you were okay. I can't even remember how many web sites I visited. I just know it was something we would do for hours at a time for days on end. We finally found my dad's friend in a small town in Texas. He decided to leave at the last minute. Thank God.

When I arrived in Houston my company had allowed me to rent a car on my corporate card and had set up a furnished apartment for me to share with a co-worker.

I know that the world looked on in horror not only at the devastating toll this storm took on New Orleans and her citizens, but also at how people can behave like animals in the absence of law. I cannot deny that I was sickened by what people in my hometown did to each other in those days. I'm not talking about the people who stole out of desperation, I'm talking about the people who used this horrible event as an opportunity to behave like the animals they apparently are. However, I would be remiss if I did not tell you that the storm renewed my faith in humanity as well.

The tremendous outpouring of love and generosity that I experienced was mind boggling. For a very long time (and sometimes even now) the weight of it all would make me cry at the drop of a hat. During this time, there was always someone willing to offer a hand, a hug or a gentle word. New Orleanians who didn't know one another would meet and embrace out of a tragic common bond. If you did know them, well, the hug would last longer and there were usually tears too. Time here is still referenced by "before the storm" and "after the storm."

Some people just couldn't understand the enormity of it all. I had a prescription waiting for me at a drugstore in New Orleans for the day we were to return. When I went to have it filled at another branch of the chain in Denver, the associate couldn't understand why she couldn't call the original drugstore. "Do you mean they're all closed? Are you sure?" Yes. I'm sure. And I'm sure they'll be closed for a while.

My car insurance company wouldn't help me out until I could prove that there was damage to my car. You see, the problem was that the storm happened on August 29, 2005 and the city didn't even reopen until September 29, 2005. It was supposed to open earlier, but a little hurricane named Rita pushed things back. (By the way, it always amazed me how active that hurricane season was. In one month we went from K to R in the hurricane name list. Wow.) I was fairly certain my car was dead, but I couldn't prove it so there was nothing they could do. We were somewhat certain that Mark's car was fine, but we couldn't prove that either. It was still stuck in the New Orleans airport's parking garage.

About three weeks after the storm, I walked into my Houston office to find a message from the veterinarian who was boarding Mark's pets at the time of the hurricane. The pets were at the LSU Ag Center and needed to be picked up ASAP due to extreme overcrowding. My heart fluttered and I immediately called Mark to tell him the good news. We couldn't believe that we would be able to see them again. A coworker was making a regular drive between Baton Rouge and Houston and offered to pick them up. He had no idea what he was getting into.

Chaos reigned at the site and the pets had no identification and were in the wrong carriers. For some reason the previous practice had been to return the collars to the owners when the pets were left so there was no way of identifying them except by sight. I sent him some photos and descriptions and through some sort of divine intercession he found the right animals. I was scared to death when I met him in Houston to pick up the animals. On his drive over he mentioned how quiet they were. I can tell you this, no one has ever used the word "quiet" to describe Mark's cat. But lo and behold, he did great and our babies were back. They had ridden out the storm at the vet's office in Metairie and been evacuated the following day. I cannot even imagine how terrifying all of this was for them.

My corporate apartment was maxed out with my two cats (my parents took the outdoor kitty as their own) so I had to find a place for Mark's babies. The wonderful people in Humble kept them for a little while and gave them the love they needed after their ordeal. I visited every night after work to get them re-acclimated to not living in cages. I arranged with Continental airlines to have them flown to Mark's dad's house in North Carolina. Mark would be able to pick them up from there. Everyone really was great and it all worked out. I still can't believe they were safe - traumatized, but safe.

Around the time Rita decided to visit on September 24th, my parents had made several round trips between Humble and Lacombe. The hardwood floors were ripped up, the refrigerator and freezers cleaned out (an incredibly disgusting job that many people in the area had to complete and are now bonded by) and the house was mostly livable. The hole in the roof impacted the kitchen/den portion of the house so they could be relatively comfortable in the bedroom portion. They decided to move home to continue cleaning the house and the land. I ended up packing up the kitties and evacuating from Houston back to their house to ride out Rita.

Mark's company needed volunteers to head into the city to pick up the equipment that was salvageable to bring to their alternate location. He volunteered to help out so that he could see the city firsthand and check on our places too. There was so much work to be done everywhere.

Katrina - Four Years Later (Part 2)

Mark was called to work in Virginia as soon as he could get there. My company hadn't made a determination yet, but it was time to give our friends their home back. With the Labor Day weekend only a few days away, my parents (through the amazing generosity of a friend with frequent flier miles) and I decided to meet at my sister's house in New Jersey. My niece was only 9 months old and would definitely be the distraction I needed. There was the additional benefit of being with family. Mark and I each took our waiting ticket from Frontier and decided to leave Denver on Wednesday morning.

To say that it was hard to leave Mark after all of this would be an understatement. So much uncertainty loomed over us. We didn't know what had happened to our homes, many of our friends, the pets, my car or our beloved city. We didn't even know when we would see each other again. I think I cried most of the way to New Jersey.

Most of our time spent with my sister consisted of trying to find out what was going on back in New Orleans. Looking at satellite maps from Google and trying to piece together bits of information led me to believe that my car might be toast, but my apartment would be okay. The apartment was 3 feet off the ground and 5 1/2 miles away from where the levees failed. I held out hope that all would be alright.

We couldn't find out much about my parents' house at all. They live on the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain which meant they were likely spared the flooding that the city of New Orleans experienced. However, their home was surrounded by tall pine trees that could have snapped in Katrina's high winds.

While it wasn't a great idea to go exploring, my mom's brother had stayed behind during the storm and drove by their house on Saturday. The only message we got was "Drove by your house. Bad." Finally, a neighbor of my parents made it into the neighborhood and called us with the news. Four trees had fallen on their home and broke the roof beam. He was trying to put a tarp over it to stop further damage. Not the news we wanted but I can't tell you the value of just knowing what's going on. It's the not knowing that has the greatest chance of driving you bat-shit crazy.

Mom and Dad made preparations to fly back to Texas to pick up their car and the kitties. They had flown with my old girl, Magie, who was the most phenomenal traveling kitty ever. She never made a peep in the car and it turned out she was a fantastic airplane traveler as well. Not to mention, she soothed my soul and that was the best part.

Some friends in Humble, Texas - the same ones who gave my parents their airline miles - offered to host my parents and the herd of cats while they figured out what to do next. The Humble house would become a base camp for trips to get the house livable again. They decided to leave on Tuesday. My company set the New Orleans employees up in temporary housing in Houston so that we would have a place to stay and a job to go to.

I left Newark on Monday afternoon entirely unsure about my new life and armed with the only possessions I would have for another month. All I had fit in a 24" roll aboard suitcase.

Katrina - Four Years Later (Part 1)

On Friday August 26, 2005 Mark and I arrived at the Denver airport to visit our great friends who are also from New Orleans. As we picked up our luggage to load into the back of her car, B said to us, "Did you see that the hurricane has turned toward New Orleans?" And from there, our lives would never be the same.

Earlier that week I was traveling between Houston and New Orleans. As I headed home on Thursday to get ready for our long weekend in Denver, I sent Mark this text: "What's up with this Katrina chick?" She had formed on Tuesday 8/23 and made landfall in Florida on 8/25. His response was "Who's Katrina?"

We packed our bags and met at my house on Friday morning. A spur of the moment decision was made about who's car to leave at the house and who's to take to the airport. His car was in the back of mine in the driveway so we decided to leave it in the airport garage. At the time, it was such a small decision.

As was my usual procedure for short trips, my neighbor was going to check on the two indoor and one outdoor cat each morning to make sure they had food and water. We dropped Mark's cat and dog off at the vet for their yearly shots. No big deal. After all, we would be back on Monday afternoon, right?

The television in the airport still had projections for Katrina pointed toward Apalachicola, Florida - about 400 miles to the east of New Orleans. Obviously, the storm took a jog to the west.

While in Denver we tried to proceed with the plans we'd already made. We relaxed on Friday night and had plans to take a train up to Winter Park on Saturday for a day in the mountains. Mandatory evacuations began to spring up for parishes all over the greater New Orleans area. I started to panic. I was stuck on a train heading through rock tunnels and up a beautiful mountain with limited cell phone service. I was totally ignoring the majesty of it all and instead spent the whole time trying to find someone to pick up my kitties and take them to safety.

Winter Park was beautiful but it's beauty was marred by the stress of the events happening far away from me. I had the thought of going home to get my kitties but Mark convinced me that was insane. I knew it was, but I felt the need to do something, anything. I got sick in the train's bathroom as I tried to come to grips with what was about to happen.

My Mom - the greatest woman who ever lived - drove into the city as everyone else was leaving and found all three cats and packed them up to take with her and my Dad on their evacuation. We couldn't reach the vet to find out about Mark's pets.

Saturday night the four of us sat glued to the television as we watched the mayor of New Orleans call for a voluntary evacuation. He urged people to leave but wasn't sure if he could call for a mandatory evacuation. Katrina got stronger. On Sunday she became a category 5 storm. We called the airlines and canceled our flights. We didn't know where we would go or when so we simply suspended our tickets. Frontier Airlines was incredibly understanding and helpful. Thank God for companies like them or I may have lost my mind really early on.

At 6 a.m. Katrina made landfall in Buras, Louisiana and caused major wind damage and flooding. St. Bernard Parish and Plaquemines Parishes were hit hard from the water pushed up from the Gulf of Mexico. Monday afternoon the levees broke and so did our spirit.

I was luckier than many in that I didn't lose any loved ones and I didn't have to deal with deciding what to do. I was already away from home so all of the normal stresses surrounding a hurricane evacuation were a non-issue. I didn't prepare my home or move my car. I didn't gather important paperwork and pictures or move trash cans or make sure that I had battened down the hatches. I just left for a three day trip. The New Orleans that I passed through on Friday on my way to the airport was gone.

We all were glued to the television for hours at a time. We didn't know the fate of our homes or, in Mark's case, the pets. Since cell phone service to anyone with a 504 area code was non-existent we managed to keep in touch with my parents by text message and found them a hotel on the Internet. They had been stopping at every exit since Shreveport to check for openings. There weren't any. We sent them directions to the room we booked them in Arlington, Texas via text. It took them 17 hours in the car with 5 cats to get there, but they made it. Our little Denver support group finally headed out for dinner to pull ourselves away. Many beers later (for everyone but my friend who was pregnant - even harder for her) we headed back to their home for our last day of commiserating.

Since I didn't find the need for work clothes or dress shoes on a hiking trip, C and B made arrangements for us to use one of their cars for the day and Mark and I headed to the mall to get just a few outfits to wear when we reported to work. My job had an alternate location in Houston and Mark's was looking for him to head to Reston, Virginia. End of season sales are wonderful things, so for only $200 I got one pair of pants, three dress shirts and a pair of shoes.

I was impossible to be ready for what would come next.

Political Prisoner or Prisoner of Politics

Recently, New Orleans' Mayor Ray Nagin was quarantined in China in order to prevent the possible spread of the swine flu from a passenger near the mayor on his flight to China. The story itself is not particularly entertaining unless you have felt held captive by the mayor like some of us have.

First, let me say that I don't wish any ill health upon our mayor. I hope that he comes through this with flying colors. However, I can tell you that some of us find a smile spreading across our faces at the idea of the of the Chinese government's actions. It may sound mean or cruel, but it is what it is. It feels like he's gotten a little taste of his own medicine.

I moved back to New Orleans one year after Katrina because it is my hometown and the city that I love. I only left because the company that I worked for at the time relocated to Houston. The job I took to come home was a step down from what I was doing before, but that was a price I was willing to pay to come back. I had no way of knowing what was in store for me.

The upside is that I'm home. The downside is that being home means having to deal with certain unpleasant circumstances. Crime is horrible, recovery is slow and jobs are lacking. Add to that the fact that some of us feel constantly duped by our mayor. Never mind semantics and stupid speeches, a lot of us are forced to live under less than ideal circumstances while we wait for our government to permit us to be released.

Mind you, I know I live here by choice, but I still feel held captive by a man I think has his own agenda. I'm not sure exactly what his agenda is, but there must be something else there. His speeches are more like sermons and he constantly tells us how we pick on him. Well Mr. Mayor, guess what? We feel picked on too. Sure, you don't check my work schedule, but my boss does. And you know what? We're your bosses. You work for each and every one of us. We have the right to know your daily activities. Certainly I don't think I have any right to know what you do in your personal time and you are definitely allowed to take a vacation, but don't tell me that I don't have the right to know what you do on a daily basis to make my life better. That's not true. It's my duty to hold you accountable. That's what makes this a government of the people, by the people and for the people. I know that I could leave, but I love my city and I want to be part of the solution.

So pardon me, Mr. Mayor, if I am apathetic about your quarantine. I feel like I've been quarantined in my own hometown for the last three years. You don't have any control? Well, neither do we. You aren't happy with the way the government is handling this? Well, neither are we. Is the Chinese government leading you astray? Gee, I hope not. It really sucks when government officials tell you what you want to hear without regard for what is actually true,

I guess the upside for New Orleanians is that at least we know our release date.

Riding High

Nearly ten years ago I started riding in a Mardi Gras parade in New Orleans called the Krewe of Tucks. I had resisted it for a long time due the expense of it all, but once I was convinced to do it, I was hooked.



It's really hard to explain the experience to someone who has never done it. I enjoy the fact that we roll the Saturday before Mardi Gras, during the day and on the uptown route. Those three things mean that the route is heavily populated from start to finish. What that really means is that for a couple of hours a hell of a lot of people treat you as though you are a rock star. Now, I'm not usually the type of person who likes a lot of attention, but somehow this is different. Maybe it's the mask, maybe it's the fact that I'm part of a larger group, I don't know. I do know that people will tell you almost anything to get the $1 pair of beads.



You would be amazed at how many people love me. I know it must be true because countless of them tell me that all along St. Charles Avenue. They wouldn't lie to me, right? You would also be amazed at how many people are in desperate need of toilet sunglasses, plungers, squirting toilets and special toilet paper. As a matter of fact, one gentleman was also in desperate need of a small stuffed turtle that I was about to toss off of the float. I would hate to deprive someone of their much needed turtle fix.



Truth be told for both the float riders and the spectators, it's a moment in time when nothing else matters. All of the problems that we deal with in our every day lives fade away. I find myself smiling for most of the ride and I love the look on someone's face when eye contact is made and the throw is delivered. Kids are the best. They aren't picky like adults are. They are happy with anything that you throw them and they pick up anything that drops on the ground. It's a good feeling because everything that leaves my hands cost me some amount of money and I'd rather not see it left for the street sweepers.



I wish that everyone could see the good side of Mardi Gras. It doesn't have to be all about boobs and alcohol. Don't get me wrong, plenty of people drink on the floats, but that's not the part of the experience that makes you do it over and over again. As a float rider, you get to put smiles on the faces of countless parade goers and as a spectator, you truly get something for nothing. How often does that happen in our day-to-day lives?



I'm already saving up for next year.

Whew

Well, I made it through another Mardi Gras. I'll admit it was touch and go there for a little while. I thought I was going to have to hurt a few people along the way but the good news is that everyone made it out alive and no relationships were ended in the process.

It's interesting that such a fun time can have the potential of causing huge problems, but it's true. It usually has something to do with alcohol and loss of patience, but the truth is that, in general, Mardi Gras can be stressful. I always want to make sure that people have fun and stay safe and those things don't always go hand in hand. We all survived, though, and that counts for something.

Now it's time to return to worrying about what happens next with what's left of my retirement savings. Thank goodness I wasn't looking to call it quits any time soon. I feel sorry for my parents and other people their age who had hoped to earn some extra cash in the stock market before turning in their notice and taking things easy.

Work isn't stable and that's stressful too. Add to all of this the recession and the general direction we're headed as a country. I'm not talking about Pres. Obama, I just think we're on a slippery slope and I'm nervous about what happens next. If history repeats itself things will have to get worse before they get better. The last time the world was in this kind of shape we needed World War II to pull us out of it. What will it take this time? So many countries have atomic weapons now that I'm really scared about where all of this is headed. People are doing horrible things to themselves and their families because they can't deal with the stress of it all. Where does it end?

All of this is a little weighty for my first post in almost a month, but it's on my mind so now it's on "paper." Lighter fare later.

Our Mayor Just Stinks

There's been a rather ridiculous problem going on in New Orleans lately. The city council and the mayor have been fighting over the budget. That's not really the problem. If there wasn't a fight I would be worried. The problem is the subject that has caused more debate lately than our murder statistics - trash pickup in the French Quarter.

If you visited New Orleans pre-Katrina and spent any time at all in the French Quarter, you will probably remember it for the architecture, strip clubs, alcohol and stench (not necessarily in that order.) The New Orleans economy has been tourist-based for some time now. Not since the early 70s, when oil left here for Houston, have we had much of anything else to hang our hats on. We still have the port which brings the rest of the country seafood, coffee and other taken-for-granted goods, but for New Orleans, tourism is where the money's at.

When entrepreneur Sidney Torres couldn't find a decent debris hauler after Katrina, this businessman/developer started his own company. That company (SDT Waste and Debris) and Sidney himself have turned into heroes for the city. We have something to be proud of - something that was done right. The French Quarter didn't smell like a giant garbage can. It smelled fresh and it was clean. You could look at the beauty of the Quarter without holding your nose. Locals started going to the Quarter again. We're talking big changes.

So the city council started discussing the budget and made some poor choices on where money would come from for certain things. I'm not denying that some bad decisions were made while trying to even things out. The budget was rejected by the mayor, reworked by the council, then seemingly accepted by the mayor and then, he told SDT to stop doing the fantastic job that they've been doing.

Okay, so I have a little spin on it, but our mayor is smug. He made people think that things were worked out on one side and then flipped and cancelled a lot of services. He doesn't want to get rid of all the vehicles that city employees are allowed to take home, but clean streets? They have to go!

The mayor made statements suggesting that Orleanians found it unfair that the French Quarter should get a larger piece of the waste disposal budget than the rest of the city. Now, I wouldn't call myself a supporter of Nagin so I would appreciate if, when he says he's speaking for New Orleanians, he checks with us.

I don't live in an area of town that triples in population (or more) every weekend. People don't drink all day on my street and then throw their beer bottles down before they vomit. I'm not saying everyone who hangs out in the Quarter does this, but our visitors tend to not treat our historical district very well. So do I think the French Quarter should get a bigger piece of the pie? Absolutely. This is our bread and butter. This is our calling card to most visitors. It should look as good as we can possibly make it.

The mayor has accused Mr. Torres of political posturing. You know, maybe he is, but he has a contract with the city that the city wanted to violate. Maybe that posturing is what he needed to do so that we heard the other side of the story. Otherwise, we would only have heard the bickering between the mayor and council. I will tell you this, after leaving Jackson Square one Sunday afternoon, I stepped over a pile of poop left by one of the carriage donkeys. Sidney pulled up in one of the little SDT trucks and shoveled the poop up himself. Let me repeat this - On a non-special-event Sunday, the owner of a large waste disposal company (not to mention a hotel on Royal Street and other investment properties) was driving around making sure that everything was neat and shoveled crap off the street. He didn't call someone to do it. He didn't just drive past. He took care of the problem. I think that says something about the man and his commitment to the city.

Following the agreement to restore services, the mayor actually said (and I'm paraphrasing here) "I knew we could let the trash sit for three days or so before rodents and roaches became a problem." Excuse me? Is it even possible to say this with a straight face? Oh, I'm sorry. He was flashing his usual smarmy smirk. Yesterday he made a statement indicating he didn't expect to face this much heat for being fiscally responsible. That statement only proves that he still doesn't get.

Like many other Orleanians, I'm counting down the days until the mayoral election. I'm not saying that the man didn't try, but something snapped when Katrina blew in. He was never the same after that. Let's hope the next person doesn't find the need to be right all of the time. Let's hope that he puts the needs of the city and her citizens before his need to prove a point. We have to fight enough with insurance companies and thugs to make our lives here better. We don't need to fight with city leaders while they break things that were fixed. It's exhausting.

So I can say to those thinking of coming to visit - Please come. It's a beautiful place with wonderful people. The Quarter is clean and we're getting ready to throw a huge party. Stay on well-lit streets in well-populated areas. Don't walk through areas you don't know when you can easily catch a cab. Be smart and you'll be fine.

Come on down. The weather is great and the air is clean. As it turns out, so are our streets.