A Visit To New Orleans

In addition to shelving and re-shelving our eight books at the library, I take on as much freelance writing as I can find. A recent email from a construction industry clearinghouse: Could I find places of worship in New Orleans, take pictures of storm damage and draft an article for the website? I certainly could, and am glad always for more work, but I was surprised to realize how reluctant I've been to go back. Yesterday's was my first visit to the city since mid-August, before the storms. Baton Rouge to New Orleans is an 80 mile drive I've made maybe 200 times. It's usually a happy trip, one I shell out good money for in gasoline and bar tabs. This time they had to pay me to do it.

On a tip from Steve's friend Andrea (now working as an insurance estimator), I met with the pastor of a Baptist church in the Ninth Ward area. That neighborhood, as we know from news reports, suffered some of the worst flooding. I drove around a bit, carefully between huge piles of debris and the clearing crews, not quite recognizing places I've seen for twenty years. I took my photos, some of building interiors obviously untouched since the waters receded---no footprints in the dried mud. Stuff still on top of stuff.

In Arabi, St. Bernard Parish, where my friends Tom and Jennifer once lived, the destruction was worse. Buildings I knew as landmarks were no longer there. I got lost. I had to ask directions to streets I've found many times in the dark and a little bit drunk. But there in Arabi, a distinctive neighborhood (as each is in New Orleans), I found a little humor, too. "Arabians" are known for poking fun at themselves---their idioms ("Where y'at, dawlin? How's yer mom an'dem?") and their blue collar roots. Some are still at it. I take that as a good sign.

Maybe someone was looking to relocate anyway...

"Like New..." Maybe true!

Weird effects (they were everywhere, even three months later):

A neighbor's water heater suspended on a fence.