New Orleans August 2006

Chris (my husband) and I set off on Friday morning, August 4 out of Lewiston, Michigan in a car filled with blankets in the back cargo area, suitcases in the middle seat and our desire to get of town as quickly as possible. It's that old vacation mentality--we have to leave NOW before someone calls us, and we cannot leave.

At any rate, we spent the first night in Columbus, Indiana--the home of some incredible architecture (apparently, an inventor/innovator, left all his money to the town to commission the best architects worldwide to design and construct buildings)--and for all you NASCAR fans, the home of Tony Stewart.

The following day we wound our way through Kentucky, Alabama and into Mississippi where we spent the night in Meridian. I hadn't been to Mississippi since 1963 when I traveled through with the Girl Scouts and saw Civil Rights workers marching into Jackson, flanked by National Guard tanks. A great deal has changed since then politically (thank goodness), but the state remains green and beautiful.

Sunday morning, we headed into New Orleans via the causeway and saw the skyline from the distance. We couldn't help but imagine what it was like for the people we saw less than a year ago walking across that road trying to get out of New Orleans. Egrets, herons flew over, fishing boats in the distance told us life was back to normal on the waterways, but I wondered about the city and surrounding area --what would it be like.

Traffic picked up as we neared the city center, and we saw our first signs of the hurricanes. Two-story homes wrapped in blue sheets of plastic, home missing corners, windows--we thought how awful and had no idea it was going to get worse--much worse--in the days ahead as we saw the damage in the Ninth Ward and Slidell.

 

We passed the SuperDome which proclaimed opening day in September for the Saints. It's eerie to see the building--my image of it will forever be of the people outside pleading for water, medical help, formula for their babies. Apparently, many residents wanted the entire structure razed, but the city decided to remodel and reopen. It's truly a haunting presence--looming over the other buildings in the area.

Arriving at our hotel, the concierge asked us, "How long y'all staying," and then he, the parking attendant--Mason, and the receptionist all thanked us for coming--in fact theirs were the first of many offers of gratitude we received this week. "Thanks for visiting New Orleans,"they said, "thank you so much."

After getting to our room, we called our son David, and after the initial "catching up," headed on foot to the French Quarter for some oysters, cold drink and music--it was the last day of the Satchmofest. As we walked, David pointed out the watermarks on buildings from when the levee broke, and as I looked up, I saw buildings destroyed by storm damage; some high rises still missed windows. But with the foot traffic, the streetcars, taxis, the life in this area, the scope of the damage was lessened a bit. David said, "This isn't the bad section, Mom--in fact there was only a few feet of water here--Wait until you see the Ninth Ward." Needless to say on that first day in New Orleans, we caught up with our kid, enjoyed oysters, a cold beverage, more oysters, more beverages and then some great jazz. Each place we went, we were thanked for visiting New Orleans. From the attendants in the rest rooms to the servers, "We need you," everyone proclaimed. "New Orleans is alive, but we need more visitors."

The next morning after breakfast (great New Orleans coffee) I called Michel Brown of Catholic Charities, and we agreed to meet around 11:00 A.M. I was nervous, but with instructions in hand, Chris and I headed out. There's a bit of a problem in New Orleans as many of the street signs are still missing, but we managed to find Catholic Charities, passing home after home either covered in blue plastic, being renovated, or simply empty, missing roofs, missing windows, missing families.

 

 

 

 

 

We arrived at the Shelter--an old brick school, I believe, and buzzed through to Michel. She let me in, we introduced ourselves, grabbed a cart and headed back to the car. In the meantime, I made a connection with another group working in New Orleans, helping the homeless. A gal had pulled up as we were unloading and saw the blankets and asked what we were doing. "Please, please send us some if you can spare to," she requested--They are now our next project!

 

 

Michel was overwhelmed with the blankets, and after some false starts, we managed to get them into the shelter, which houses homeless families. And believe me, there are plenty because there is a scarcity of affordable housing and trailers. Each family will get one of our Close Knit Hugs for comfort and to take with them when they get into permanent housing.

The rest of our week was spent helping the economy (and we helped it), eating incredible food, visiting shops and museums , and being thanked everywhere we went for visiting New Orleans. The people are overwhelmed with emotions: happy the town is rising again, grieving for their losses and celebrating life. Everyone has a story about where they were when the hurricane hit--much like my generation which grew up remembering where we were during JFK's assignation as well as the present generations who remember September 11, 2001.

On Wednesday we traveled to the Ninth Ward and Slidell, Louisiana, where the eye of the storm passed. I cannot , nor can my husband, adequately describe the place: Row upon row of homes, gone--moved, rotting, moldy and still marked with hideous inscriptions, such as "2 rescued, 1 dog dead, 9/7/05 "

We passed houses with holes in the roofs where people obviously had chopped their way out and up to the peaks.

We saw row after row of trailers, very little construction and piles and piles of moldy, house interiors, stripped and stacked, waiting to be hauled away.

It simply took our breaths away. David had said, "It looks as if a bomb was dropped"; it does and worse. We went to the World War Two Museum now open in New Orleans and seeing post-atomic bomb pictures of Hiroshima and Nagasaki reminded me of the Ninth Ward. You can still see boats sitting in the middle of residential neighborhoods, and the city park and golf course are overgrown--there's no money to mow them.

But people are fighting to keep their homes and neighborhoods. They are going out to work , to dine and to re-create everything that makes New Orleans so special--the history, culture, music, food and resiliency.

Close Knit Hugs will keep making blankets, sending them south--the New Orleans spirit is contagious. We can only say visit for yourself, enjoy the French Quarter, Magazine Street , the Garden District. Eat at the Red Snapper Grill and Antoine's; shop for art, antiques and yarn. (I discovered an incredible yarn and needlepoint shop in the Garden District. Follow the link!) Chris and I, after traveling 2704 miles, confronted reality in New Orleans and it renewed our resolve. I am knitting and found seven boxes of squares waiting for me at the post office--Thank you all for helping Close Knit Hugs and the hurricane victims!

Wednesday, August 30, 2006 9:45 PM