DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT MEANS? - PART 2

First Draft Krewe Before

It's truly difficult for me to write about my weekend, because New Orleans is my city and will always be my city, although I have not lived there for nearly 50 years. It's my home. I have lived in my town for 37 years, and it's a good town. My children grew up here, and it was a fine place to raise a family.

The New Orleans which I loved the most did not exist even before Katrina. The NOLA which I grew up in and lived in fof the first 24 years of my life is the city that I loved the most. Over those 24 years, it seemed to change very little, but during the years that I lived away, it changed greatly, unfortunately not always for the better. But it was still there, and I continued faithful to my love who had gone somewhat bad. We visited and enjoyed the goodness which remained.

I had already met Scout on one of her previous trips to New Orleans, but it was great to meet Athenae and Mr. A., Ray in New Orleans, Sinfonian, Cynthia, Mike Danablog, Cheri and Harry (archeop), and Spork. I will forever picture Spork with three heavy cameras hanging around this neck as we took the tour of the devastated areas. You can see some of his terrific pictures at his blog.

Gutting a house is hard work. The house we worked on was on 1773 Sere St next to the London Avenue Canal, which breached about a mile away from the house and flooded a wide area. I will read about those who volunteer to help gut a house with great respect in the future, especially those who work in the heat of July and August. The suits are hot, the respirator is a scary-looking thing which I was not sure I would be able to wear since I have claustrophobia, but it was OK once I got it on. Wearing the hooded suit, the respirator, the goggles, and two sets of gloves - work gloves over rubber gloves - you sweat before you even start to work. Many of the other - ahem - much younger folks did heavier work than I did for a longer time, but I did my little bit for the cause, sweeping debris that fell when the walls were knocked down into a pile, shoveling it into wheel barrows, and picking up boards with nails in them so no one would step on them. The others worked with crowbars and hammers. Some of us found a certain satisfaction in knocking out sheetrock as you can see from Athenae's post.

Inside the house it was dusty and dark; our goggles fogged up and we were drenched in seconds, but it was satisfying, in a situation in which you feel there's so little you can do, to slam a crowbar into some drywall. And that's for the convention center, and that's for fucking Geraldo having smarts our government didn't have and that's for every right-wing nutball who said people should just pull themselves up by their bootstraps and that's for everybody who ever told me America was a Christian nation. That's for Gentilly and that's for St. Bernard and that's for New Orleans and that's for my country, you fucking fucks, as Ashley would say. [Sadly, Ashley Morris, who blogged brilliantly and prolifically about New Orleans, died unexpectedly on April 2, 2008.]

The retired couple who lived next door appreciated what we did. They are well along in fixing their house but still have their FEMA trailer parked in front. They very kindly allowed us to use the bathroom in the trailer as we worked. Later, the gentleman bought us two cartons of fried chicken wings, which quickly disappeared as we devoured them.

We had a great crew of college students from Elon University working with us as part of a requirement for a class. Good for their teacher for having them do this. I'm sure they learned a great deal from this time out of the classroom.

On Sunday, we took a tour through the devastated areas, some of which I had not seen yet. My husband and I had gone twice before to view the ruins, but at some point I had to ask him to stop before we saw certain areas, because I just could not take any more, but yesterday I saw parts of the city that I had not seen before. Block after block of wasteland, with the only visible progress being the removal of the huge piles of trash and vacant lots where houses had been bulldozed. Occasionally, in the midst of the wasteland, we'd see one house fixed and inhabited. I wondered how the folks could live there alone, surrounded by vacant lots and ruined houses.

We saw the breaches in the levee, which had been repaired, but adjacent to the repaired and reinforced areas were the same old levees that failed after Katrina. No one in the area believes that the US Corps of Engineers has fixed much of anything. The same disaster could repeat itself once again.

Remember that it was not Katrina that caused the major disaster in New Orleans. The city came through the storm pretty well, but the subsequent failures of the levees, built by the same US Corps of Engineers, caused the city to go under water.

Enough for now. I'll probably write more later.

First Draft Krewe After

UPDATE: Many thanks to lb1303 and Dangerblond for their wonderful New Orleans-style hospitality in opening their homes to us, and thanks to all who contributed the delicious food for the gatherings.

UPDATE 2: If you'd like to read an account of a New Orleans all-nighter, go read Mike Danablog at Detached Retina. Keep in mind that the all-nighter came after a hard day's work of house-gutting.

UPDATE 3: A happy ending: Sinfonian, a member of the group who worked with us, returned to 1773 Sere St, which we thought was a lost cause and likely to be demolished.  Pictured below is the termite- and roach-infested kitchen as it looks today.  I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw the beautiful new kitchen in the picture.  A young family purchased the house and lives there now.

  Below is a photo of the exterior of the restored house from Google Maps.