Katrina, one year later

A moment to remember.

Not that anyone born in the city is likely to forget.

A few articles for a little reading ..........

A Five Part series on conditions at Memorial Medical Center:

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
http://www.nola.com/search/index.ssf?/base/news-6/115640588150270.xml?NP1&coll=1

I promise to post about happier things ... eventually ... it's hard to let go.

I like the way Chris Rose calls it "The Thing".

All of the NO pictures ...

are located here.

Enjoy.

If that's the right word.

Days 9 and 10

The last two days.

Took me a while to get around to finishing this; I'm glad I did the rest of it "as I went" otherwise it'd never get done.

Day 9, Thursday. We got up and, after coffee, went to the NO Museum of Art. Aside from the usual stuff they had on display, they put together an amazing Katrina photo display. It was amazing. (Just as a side note, they still don't have phones there at NOMA. For entrance into the museum, they can't take credit cards; for the museum store, which obviously collects much higher sums of money, the woman who runs the store takes home the credit card machine every night and runs it from home. ONE YEAR LATER.)

Sigh.

Anyway, after that, we headed to the Quarter to finally get a meal at the Gumbo Shop. Love that place.

That evening, to the Shakespeare Festival at Tulane to see the first preview of ROMEO & JULIET. There to see my friends Randy and Sean and Donald and director, Gary ..... it was old home week. It was nice. I didn't know everybody, but I did enjoy surprising some people. Reall good production, although it did make me flash back to our college production quite a bit. Back when Randy played Benvolio (and here playing the Friar). :)

Afterwards, we headed back to Cooter Brown's, where we were joined by Sean's girlfriend (who I'd been hearing about for years, and was so thrilled to finally meet!) and of course, the fabulous Michael Sullivan, with whom I was able to squeeze in one more night.



It was so nice, just hanging out and talking over a beer. Or two. It really sort of forced a flashback of my life. I mean, this really used to be my life. And it still fits, kind of. I cannot begin to tell you how weird that is. Because it IS still comfortable. It's the one thing I'm missing here. After a show, people go home. Sometimes, maybe, to a restaurant that MIGHT still be open. But there aren't any good quiet talking bars. I miss sitting for hours after a show and dishing everything.



And in particular, reconnecting with both Randy and Sean was pretty fabulous. :)

Day 10, the final day.

Bittersweet.

Happily saying goodbye to the crappy little motel room (it turns out that they're clearly refurbishing the place, and we were in an unrenovated room ... grr.) ... out we went into the world. Lunch with dad ... I even got a hug. (Impressive, as you may have gathered, he's not your warm and fuzzy guy).

From there, one more drive through the city to see a few more sights. We started with Lakshore Drive, where most (if not all) of the palm trees are on what look like crutches. Or maybe more like the equivalent of dogs being in those cone collars.



Next, a quick drive onto my college's campus, where there were so many new buildings I could barely recognize the place!


From there, one more jaunt into NO East, where I wanted to get a shot of the gas station(s), frozen in time (gas was $2.35 there in August 2005!) ... it's got this sort of ghosttown quality to it.



While we were there, we saw a stairway that led to nothing ... with the house it was presumably once attached to many feet away.



We contemplated going to the Ninth Ward, but ultimately decided not to go. From my perspective, I didn't know that part of town terribly well so I wouldn't know what I was looking at. Plus, I feel that the media has covered the Ninth Ward so thoroughly that I suspect that the average citizen of the US would not be familiar with the destroyed neighborhoods of Lakeview, Lake Terrace, New Orleans East - to name but a few - and that's what I wanted to document.

On our way back out of the city, we passed something in West End that kind of caught my eye. Somehow, as many times as we'd passed it over the previous week, it finally just hit me. A drive-through fast-food burger joint (Checkers) ... where everything was standing (signage, menu, picnic tables) EXCEPT the actual building. Mind-blowing. Still.



We concluded we were done with the sight-seeing portion of the trip, and stopped in for the final family "obligation", a visit with my aunt. I have to say, in spite of her difficulties with aging (she has trouble finding her words ... she can describe what she wants to say, but can't remember the actual word) it was one of the most deightful visits we've ever had. We've never been close. Actually, that's probably an understatement. A vast, vast understatement.

But yet, here we were. In watching my father and her in the same day, I finally - for the first time - viewed them as siblings, with simiar speech patterns, attitudes and mannerisms. And I saw a woman who had a much harder life than she'd signed on for, and yet survived. And I saw a woman honestly trying to reach out to me.

I'm glad we went.

That's true of both the visit with my aunt, and New Orleans as a whole.

I do love my city. I'd forgotten how much.

Days Seven and Eight

I'm starting to lose track of the days. In many ways, I'm glad I'm keeping this blog, otherwise I'd have no sense of time any more. :/

Day Seven. Tuesday. Decided to keep the day a bit low key; beignets and cafe au lait at Morning Call (not worth the drive to the Quarter to go to Cafe Du Monde, especially as Dick has been there before). After that, a trip to the bookstore for some local color books (including the Chris Rose book I've been meaning to buy).

A little time at dad's place to be the Good Daughter. Taking care of some family business; also trying to help him get his computer functioning. It's quite ill; I'm quite sure it's virus-ridden. I downloaded Norton for him and got that set up but told him if it doesn't find anything, to please take it in for repairs.

I doubt that he'll do that.

My dad's new place is all beige. I realized, since the last time I was here three years ago was to help him pack up the house in the East, I never did see the place he moved into from there. But post-Katrina, he has a little townhouse in a gated community. It's entirely beige. Beige carpets and walls and blinds and appliances and trim. Beige. And of course he doesn't help with the fact that he's never hung a single picture - and he's got some great paintings.

And I have to admit, it was weird to see the family furniture I'd grown up with in some other location.

It was weird to see things my mother picked out in some other location.

Maybe part of me is glad she didn't have to go through this. On the other hand, had she been living, they would still be living in the house in the East, and he might have convinced her to stay. Then again, perhaps she would have convinced him to go.

It's amazing how worked up you can get over events that didn't actually happen.

On with the day. Dick's friend Erin works in the kitchen at the Court of Two Sisters, where she promised they would "take care of us". My friend Sheila was able to walk over from where she works in the Quarter to meet us and enjoy with us. Did they ever take care of us! We didn't even need the menu ... they did the "small dishes" (a "tasting menu", I suppose) where they just keep serving small portions of an assortment of dishes. It went on and on and on ... some of the things weren't even on the menu. But oh my God. It was insane. And wine, we also had some lovely wine. And coffee and dessert. Wow.

After that we rolled down the street to Molly's on Toulouse where - and God I miss this about New Orleans - we were able to just sit quietly and talk over a drink. There are no good talking bars in LA. And, I'd missed this so much this week, we were there til 1:30am and they were still going strong. I was glad to not be kicked out because they were closing. It was really nice to have the time to visit with Sheila.

Sheila and I

Dick and Erin



It's a dog-friendly bar. I didn't get the dog's name, but the toy is a stuffed cow.

It was a lovely, lovely evening.

Day Eight. Got up and met my "little brother" Leon for lunch. I haven't seen him since I left town, because he spent several years off getting his MFA, so he was never in town when I was here visiting. Finally, we got to catch up! I miss that boy.



The "little brother" thing goes back to college. We reconnected years later as we were both a big part of the New Orleans theatre scene; we were the people we always counted on to tell the truth. We'd see each others' shows, we'd hug and say "great show", and then under our breath "we'll talk", and then on Monday one would call the other and say "OK, so what did you really think?" and we'd call it like we saw it.

Wednesday evening, we accidentally left the camera in the hotel room, so we were not able to record photographically the fact that we had a lovely dinner with Byron and Lisa Mauthe. Two friends of mine from high school and college who had been best friends since they were in high school ... and only figured out that they needed to be together about two years ago. They seem blissfully happy and it's wonderful to see them ... TOGETHER. Wow.

I was seriously blessed in the Friend department.

From there, we went on to a gay bar called Cowpokes in a part of town that usually makes me nervous ... but was practically deserted. Plus there were National Guard troops down the street. Still weird figuring out what's more safe and less safe these days. Michael had been so good about going wherever we wanted all during the week, we thought it only fair to go play on his turf for an evening.

I do love that boy too.

Sigh.

Driving home, I was filled with so much sadness yet again for the city I mourn. And I'm frustrated and angry and all those other things ... but here's something interesting. Pre-Katrina, if you had asked me if I'd ever consider moving back, I'd have laughed you up and down the block. Between the heat, the rain, and the mediocrity of some of the arts scene, I just didn't see the point. The city was dangerous and depressing and not something worth returning to.

But post-storm? I see its beauty all over again. I'm not blind; I see the flaws, same as they ever were. But I also see the potential for greatness. If only the politicians in charge could stop thinking about themselves and the "correct political moves" and actually make a plan ... it could be amazing. It could be a beautiful, thriving, vibrant city, better than ever. And I suddenly WANT that! One day when Dick and I are done with LA and we're contemplating where to go next (or retire to), I WANT to be able to look at how wonderful New Orleans is and consder coming home.

And I have to tell you, that's about the last thing I expected to feel. And I didn't feel it until I got here. Until I saw it in its wounded state.

Go figure.