Saturday, August 19, 2006

Initial Thoughts on St. Bernard's Parish

In the past twelve months since Katrina hit the coastal towns of Louisiana and Mississippi, news, photos and pleas for donations have inundated the airwaves creating a well-known moniker for one of the century’s most destructive storms. In its wake, several fund raising resources and grass roots orgs have sprung up in support; The Edge’s “Music Rising”, the Common Ground Collective, Dave Matthews, Harry Connick, Jr. & Branford Marsalis have been instrumental in the construction of Musician's Village, Bill Clinton & George H. Bush’s sprouting of a multi-million dollar Katrina Fund. Anderson Cooper even landed a Vanity Fair cover for his reporting of the crisis in New Orleans and Spike Lee’s four-part HBO documentary will air later this month.

Images of Oprah’s chartered helicopter circling the Superdome, while Gayle, on the ground, laments about staying at the 4 Seasons, are still fresh in my mind. And while my colleague Derek’s interpretation of Gayle sends me to floor with laughter, I can’t help but wonder if the actual state of things are tripping the light fantastic. Celebrity involvement has made the slow rebuilding efforts of Katrina wreckage seem, at least to me, out of proportion, bordering on the edge of what seems reasonable and even believable. However, although I had signed up with the Habitat NOLA office last year, it was Ellen DeGeneres’s impassioned plea during a guest spot on the Tonight Show that inspired me to pick a date and get my ass to New Orleans. In fact, I’ve never even watched her hit show, but the quiver in her voice as she relayed what she had seen moved me to action, so my sister and I set off in the new Element, heading south.

As we hit the I-59 towards Picayune, Mississippi, signs of Mother Nature’s wrath surrounded us as if a giant straddled the four-lane highway; arms outstretched and neatly halved the spindly pine trees bordering the route. From that moment, we were deadly aware of a force greater than ourselves.

A few days later, when asked whether I was taking lots of pictures, I had to think about why I had stopped snapping away. A 4 x 6 perspective cannot accurately depict the setting and, deep down, although the township of St. Bernard resembles a ghost town, it seemed disrespectful. Not even Ellen’s description could have prepared me for the wreckage and complete and utter devastation of this community. Neighborhood after neighborhood remains empty. Apartment buildings, stores, gated communities with their steel enclosures ripped open, telephone poles atilt and piles of debris, including cars, boats and appliances, line the sides of roads. Walk down the middle of any street and rarely will you encounter other people. Some houses that are due for demolition have graffiti like “Kiss My Ass Katrina and Levee Board” spray painted across the front of them. Closer to the delta, treetops entrap skeletal remains of mangled furniture and household items. It sounds bad. I’m here to tell you that it is bad.

One of Camp Hope’s frequent volunteers said that what we were looking at was 100% improvement from March. Imagining that, I found myself simultaneously depressed and overwhelmed. Described as one of Louisiana’s proudest and strongest communities, the Parish’s entrance sign declares “We’re Coming Back” but it’s hard to believe. Only 18% of the population has returned to the 27,000 homes that were damaged or destroyed by the storm. Equally disturbing was the lack of support from commercial entities with the money to rebuild. Wendy’s cement slab foundation sat vacant next to its nationally recognized red sign. Wal-Mart, McDonald’s and several local stores have stapled signs on boarded up windows, half-heartedly stating “We’ll Be Back”. It took seven full months after the water receded for Home Depot to open its doors. Grocery shopping is difficult and fast food trailers serving Po-Boys and ribs pull in and out every day. Car dealerships, curiously, are primed for business, stocked with new inventory. Transportation isn’t one of the three basic necessities, (food, clothing and shelter), but after seeing the pile of cars along side Route 46 on the other side of town, you understand that in order to get people back into their homes, they’ve got to be able to move around.

Residents who have relocated nearby or who live in FEMA trailers on their front lawns hurriedly try to salvage their houses in order for the deadline of August 29th, the anniversary of Katrina. I’m not exactly sure what this deadline means, either derelict homes will be bulldozed or the state will seize your property. Habitat for Humanity has taken on the enormous task of gutting to the framework approximately 7,000 residences that belong to the disabled and/or elderly. As of two weeks ago, 1,700 had been completed.

On most homes, the front door has been knocked down or removed. Furniture, having been afloat during the two weeks the parish was under water, has settled elsewhere in the house. As if to prove its point, a waterline permeates rooftops. Food has disintegrated in the cupboards and the refrigerator. You are warned multiple times at orientation to resist temptation and duct tape the fridge shut. There are hazards. We are advised to be on the lookout for rats, copperhead and rattlesnakes, brown recluse and black widow spiders lurking in dark, damp corners as well as shredded mirrors and hand grenades. Closets sprout black mold. The driveway and flooring is slick with muck; a combination of mud, silt and dust that literally cements to soles of your shoes and bottoms of your pants. The smell is vile; truly appalling; an odorous concoction of spoiled food, rotting wood, wet carpet and clothing. A full-face respirator mask was my constant companion.

Once a passage way is hollowed out and windows opened, you tread lightly through the darkness of this mess. You are now somehow the custodian of someone else’s things, trespassing with a sledgehammer. Furniture, Christmas decorations, official Louisiana Saints and Mardi Gras memorabilia, carefully collected by the owner, are now in your jurisdiction to be relegated to an enormous debris pile on the front yard or set aside, hidden from looters. It’s hard to know what a prized possession is or isn’t and after all, since it’s been sitting there for eleven months, I’d be lying if I said I spent a lot of time weighing the odds. Water and time have turned stuff into crap, easily shoveled away and it’s easy to adopt a Mad Max mentality. You begin to relish the sound of breaking glass as you return to the house with your wheelbarrow. Our original team leader listed our responsibilities with indifference. For him, it wasn’t about sifting through someone’s life; it was tearing walls down and smashing things apart and keeping an eye out for firearms ever present in these southern homes. Within two days of this intense work, bearing the brutal heat and humidity of Louisiana, focus is set on clearing out and moving onto the next one.

There is much to be done. (Click here for my slide show)

Everywhere, people ask us to send more volunteers down, to tell our friends about what we’ve seen, to spend our money because they need the business desperately. A resident gratefully told us; “Thank you for coming, it makes us feel like we’re part of America”. I was embarrassed that the feeling of being unprovided for in this country of wealth lingered on.

It’s not for lack of volunteers and private funds as listed above. I barely saw any government services in action with the exception of FEMA trailers, the likes of which families are exasperated at living in for so long, canned FEMA water (not a welcome sight at the Camp) and sporadic debris removal. I cannot begin to assess what process rebuilding this landmass would be; tune into the next blog for my opinion. I will say that I believe if this were a government priority, we would be looking one hell of an improvement.

What is clear in this quagmire of strategic planning boards and hoo hah is the enormous rebuilding effort, generously financed and compassionately completed by the people, including celebrities. Without their familiar faces keeping Katrina current, she would be just another name. Let’s face it. Most people don’t read the in-depth articles like Dan Baum’s Letter From New Orleans in this week’s New Yorker or Charles Mann's August 28th Fortune piece, but they do have time to scan a pop up blurb on AOL about
Matthew McConaughey’s charity eBay
sale of his 'Vette or
Brad Pitt’s recent design sponsorship of a 12 Unit green Apartment building for the lower ninth ward. And if bidding on a ’71 Stingray spreads the word that communities remain in need, well I’m on board with that.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

HELP & HOPE: St. Bernard Parish Recovery Project

As I was formulating my thoughts about my trip to St. Bernard's Parish, I wanted to share a video one of the volunteers produced. It truly explains what my sister and I were doing there. More to come... check this out.

Shameless Crushes...

find life experiences and swallow them whole.
travel.
meet many people.
go down some dead ends and explore dark alleys.
try everything.
exhaust yourself in the glorious pursuit of life.
-lawrence k. fish

Yoga For Peace

read much and often

Cleopatra: A Life
Travels with Charley: In Search of America
Never Let Me Go
The Angel's game
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
Bel-Ami
Dreaming in French: A Novel
The Post-Birthday World
A Passage to India
The Time Traveler's wife
To Kill a Mockingbird
The Catcher in the Rye
One Hundred Years of Solitude
The Kite Runner
Eat, Pray, Love
Slaughterhouse-Five
Les Misérables
The Lovely Bones
1984
Memoirs of a Geisha


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