3 years after Katrina, St. Bernard Parish fights uphill battle
CHALMETTE, La. (AP) - Nearly three years after Hurricane Katrina, shifting demographics and the loss of community touchstones have rendered tight-knit St. Bernard Parish almost unrecognizable to those who cherished life here before the storm.
By one estimate, less than half the 67,000 pre-storm population is back in this New Orleans suburb, and residents are now poorer and more reliant on services from the cash-strapped parish government, St. Bernard President Craig Taffaro said.
There is no hospital, shopping options are limited, and teachers are in short supply. Many returnees cling to the life they once knew at remnant neighborhood hangouts.
Broken streets, concrete slabs where houses stood and abandoned strip malls are the veneer. The unseen wrath of Katrina is its theft of the soul of St. Bernard.
Taffaro believes the clock is ticking on St. Bernard's future. His priorities: speeding up the pace of rebuilding homes, schools and other infrastructure, and taking the politically risky step of proposing a smaller habitation footprint.
"I want St. Bernard to be the hardworking, determined community it always was," he said.
Isolated in the Mississippi River delta between the Gulf of Mexico and New Orleans, St. Bernard always seemed a world to itself. Its residents liked it that way.
Canary Islanders who settled fishing communities in the 1700s, white flight to the suburbs of New Orleans in the 1950s and '60s and deep-rooted black communities created a blue-collar independence set amid oil refineries, alligator-infested swamps and the site of the Battle of New Orleans.
Generations of families lived within blocks of each other. They had what they needed - shopping, ball games on Friday nights, friends and crawfish boils.
Since Katrina, things have changed.
Henry Rodriguez Jr., longtime parish leader defeated by Taffaro last fall, remembers when he could walk into a store and know almost everyone in it.
"That's not true today," he said as he drove his pickup along streets so warped and broken that doing the speed limit can be risky.
Some residents, black and white, complain about Hispanic workers in the area now, many talk about crime, and it's hard to find anyone who says rebuilding hasn't been agonizingly slow.
"This whole entire thing is a joke," said George Tustin, who left Indiana to settle in Meraux because of St. Bernard's reputation as a good place for families.
At least $1 billion in federally funded infrastructure repair is being done. Taffaro said parish leaders have made strides in penetrating the recovery bureaucracy to get work moving on sewerage, fire stations, schools and post offices.
But the task is enormous. On Aug. 29, 2005, flooding from Katrina came from almost every direction. A survey showed virtually every building in St. Bernard was damaged. As in neighboring New Orleans, trucks rumbled through neighborhoods for weeks removing debris, and cultural and government chaos followed.
One of the biggest challenges, as in other areas lashed by Katrina across the Gulf Coast, is housing.
Red X's brand thousands of houses that parish leaders want demolished. The state plans to transfer to local control thousands more bought from homeowners who didn't want to return. Some might be renovated and attract new residents. Others may be torn down. Taffaro said he envisions neighborhoods with more green space and homesites with larger yards.
Few expect St. Bernard to reach its pre-storm population soon. A major obstacle is the lack of a hospital, though efforts are underway to build one. Parish estimates put the population at 32,000. Chief administrative officer Dave Peralta says he'd be happy to have 45,000 by 2013.
"Will we have as many schools? No. But certainly things will be a lot better and more progressive," he said.
Jeff Pohlmann hopes so. He's been doing a one-hour commute from north of Lake Pontchartrain to St. Bernard to work in his restaurant, Today's Ketch Seafood. "I hate the commute," said Pohlmann, who used to live nearby and worries about the next hurricane despite government assurances that levees are secure.
Pohlmann puts up with the drive because he feels a deep connection to Chalmette.
There are signs the St. Bernard he remembers is there. Some neighborhoods are ghostly quiet at night, but in others children play pick-up games in their driveways. Store clerks presenting your bill still tack "baby" onto their thank you in an unmistakable St. Bernard drawl. Softball leagues are back, and schools are re-establishing community hubs.
Still, Taffaro fears more serious day-to-day struggles could be overwhelming. He knows moving forward will take digging deep into St. Bernard's emotional reserve, and getting over a sense of being forgotten.
Just up the road from St. Bernard is New Orleans' Lower 9th Ward, where presidential candidates, volunteers, TV home repair shows and celebrities such as actor Brad Pitt have heaped attention. Such concern, St. Bernardians say, seems to stop at the parish line.
So they take out their frustrations by singing karaoke or shooting darts at hangouts like the Dog House, one of 15 bars, casinos and grills the local tourism bureau lists as nightlife. Others replant roots at the festivals that are quintessential St. Bernard.
A spring crawfish festival drew families and friends, many out of touch since Katrina.
Anthony Mendoza said he doesn't regret returning. He has a new neighbor, his only one, a woman from Florida. He's running on faith now.
"This is home," he said.
Copyright 2008 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.
Clint Maedgen and the Preservation Hall Brass Band made this video just a few months before Katrina. I love this video, because it reminds me of the paradox that is New Orleans: very complicated yet whimsical. The scenes are the scenes I grew up with, and yes, you really can run into strange circus types on a normal day in the city.
The 8/29 Commission Revisited
Current mood: Concerned
Category: Concerned News and Politics
I'm posting an email I rec'd from my cousin Carey with the hope that people will follow the links, read and respond. This affects any state that depends on the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers levees to protect them. And because your tax dollars build levees, and pay for the disasters that follow failed levees, this affects YOU. ~ Rhonda
Dear Family and Friends:
As hurricane season approaches in K+3, I am asking you to demand accountability from our elected leaders. The devistation of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita affected all of us, whether you lost it all to the flood, gained 20+ house guests or spent days and nights worrying (from 2,500 miles away) about our family members in Louisiana, Mississippi, and Texas.
Keep in mind that flooding can happen ANYWHERE. Just think of those poor people in Nevada.
After a 30-foot section of the levee broke along the Truckee Canal early in the morning some 3,500 residents were evacuated in frigid 26-degree weather.
Then click on the link to the Levees.Org website and voice your opinion to our elected leaders by sending them an email (click on the blue box "Send an Email") asking them to support the 8/29 Investigation.
Eddie’s first operation: TOMORROW
Current mood: anxious
Category: Life
As some of you know, my Eddie's been trying since last JUNE to get his health problems diagnosed and taken care of. Tomorrow, finally, he'll go through his first surgery to correct one of his urgent problems: an 85% blockage in his right carotid artery.
His kidneys, which had been failing steadily for about nine months, finally seem to be stabilizing. They will not get better, it's just that the kidney function seems to be holding at stage 3 failure for now. That's good news; the longer he can stay in stage three, the longer he can do without dialysis or transplant.
The aortic aneurysm has not increased in size, so the doctors are taking the "watchful waiting" approach. They just check it periodically to see if it's reached 5cm. 5cm seems to be the magic size when it suddenly becomes more dangerous and needs to be operated on. It's now 4.5cm.
This has been yet another long journey; healthcare down here is miserably insufficient since Katrina, and until they build a good healthcare corridor in downtown New Orleans, we'll all be waiting longer for tests and specialist visits and surgeries. And, some of us will die waiting. But, that's another blog. This blog is about Eddie.
Eddie is the kindest man I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. He's uncomplicated: what you see is what you get. He's unpretentious and humble. He's extremely loyal to friends, and to me. He can be a cranky old man at times, but with all he's been through since 2005, who can blame him? His wonderful sense of humor has been slowly returning and, every now and then, he grabs me in the kitchen and starts dancing with me. Why in the kitchen? We're still in a FEMA trailer. The kitchen and the living room and guest room are pretty much the same room.
He's wonderful, and I love him, and I want him to be around for a very long time. It took me a while to find him; I ain't ready to let go so soon.
Please, if you pray, pray that all goes well tomorrow. If you don't, HOPE that all goes well; if you're a cynic, don't think about us at all, please. We want only positive vibes coming our way! hah!
Thank you, friends. You've been through a lot with me the past couple of years. And to my family, I know I can count on all of you to pray and give me whatever moral support I need.
I'll post something this weekend to let y'all know how it all went. Love ya~ Rhonda
The Road To Nowhere has a phone number
Current mood: bullied
Category: Life
As I wrote in my previous blog, we were informed by a group of people calling themselves "The State of Louisiana Crisis Counseling Team" that FEMA would be taking our trailers out of here by May 31. I screamed and cursed and gave a speech about how America has abandoned her own, and one of the ladies was nice enough to call FEMA to see if they'd reconsider selling the trailers to those of us who are still awaiting our Road Home grants and had nowhere else to go. We'd been told that they were NOT going to sell them because they were afraid of lawsuits over formaldehyde levels. However, several of the units in our park were tested independently, and were found to be safe.
FEMA gave the lady a phone number for us to call. I called it. They took my information. AMAZINGLY, a lady called me the next day to interview me. I was impressed and happy. But when she told me that because Eddie was given $9,000 by FEMA as compensation for his destroyed mobile home, she couldn't sell us the unit we're living in for $300.00, as that would be considered a "duplication of benefits".
"Well, how much would we have to pay for it?" I asked.
"You'd have to pay the $9,000.00 back," she said.
I got hysterical. She kept trying to say something to me, but I wouldn't listen until she'd heard what I had to say about my journey from August 29, 2005 to today, and about what my government has put me and Eddie through all those days. I was so hysterical that I couldn't get the words out properly. It was more like, "Y-Y-YOU--JUST--DON'T--KNOW--WHA - WHA- WHAT WE'VE BEEN GOING THROUGH!!!" Really, I was sobbing like a baby. I'd been strong for so long, but at that moment, it was like the spillway opened up. (Uh, for those of you who don't know, we're in danger of flooding from the Mississippi River, and they had to open the spillway to divert river water to Lake Ponchartrain.)
When I stopped to catch my breath, the lady said, "Rhonda, I didn't mean to upset you. Please listen carefully to what I'm going to say..." and she began to ask me a series of questions. It seems that buying a car to replace the one that got smashed by pine trees in the storm did not qualify as a proper expenditure of our FEMA money; nor was the purchase of a tent and generator so that we could live in our back yard while we cleaned up the mess around us. All the gas we spent coming down from Chatham, LA to St. Bernard, and then back again, didn't count either. Or clothing, bedding, towels, food, etc. But, Victoria had a very important question to ask me.
"Tell me, do you intend to live in that trailer forever?" She asked
I told her that at the rate things are going, I may have no choice. She said again, "Listen carefully and see if you can figure out what I need from you..." Hmmm.... I was missing something. "Okay." I said.
"Do you want to live in that trailer forever and EVER???"
I thought about it. "Well, of course not! I wouldn't CHOOSE to live in this little trailer! It leaks through the wall when it rains hard enough sideways!"
"So, you're saying 'no', right?" Victoria asked.
"Right...no." I said.
"Good!" she said. "Because you'd like to use the unit as transitional housing until you settle with the Road Home, FEMA is prepared to sell it to you for that purpose for $300.00!"
And thus, the lovely lady Victoria figured a way around the ridiculous conditions set forth by FEMA, and we will be able to purchase the trailer for $300.00. It's not a permanent solution, but at least we know we won't be out on the street at the end of next month.
As for the ROAD HOME, though, we've heard nothing more from them. We've given them all the information we have on the old trailer Eddie had had for 23 years at the time of Katrina. There is no other documentation for us to give them. They have a notarized affidavit from me swearing that the trailer papers were in a drawer in the trailer and that when I tried to find them after Katrina, the drawer was nothing but a black, slimy mess. The FEMA man even refused to look in there. They have a notarized affidavit from a woman who witnessed Eddie purchasing the trailer from the old man twenty three years prior. They have a letter from the park owner that Eddie had been living in the trailer at the time of the hurricane and 23 years prior, and they have a sworn affidavit from a Justice of the Peace from St. Bernard Parish attesting that Eddie owned the trailer and lived in it at the time of the storm. They also have old utility bills with his name on it for that address. Still, they won't release his grant money.
His case worker, Will Ballard, has been very sweet. But his supervisor demands more and more evidence. Every time Will asks us for something we fax it to him; each time he promises it's the last thing they need. But it never is the last thing. On our last phone conversation, he asked me to fax something he'd already asked me to fax before, something I don't have, and all the other stupid paperwork we gathered and faxed in was supposed to take the place of the missing deed. I asked him to put a supervisor on the line. He would not. I explained that he'd been very nice, and I didn't want to offend him, so it would be best if he put a supervisor on the line. He still would not. So, I let him have it: every iota of frustration that was in me exploded through the phone line right into Will's lap. And I finished by saying, "Don't call back unless it's to tell Eddie what day he can come to his closing!" And I hung up.
We're still waiting for that phone call.
Here are a few addresses and phone numbers for those of you who are tired of the way FEMA, the State of Louisiana, and ICF (the company responsible for the road for the Road Home awards) have been treating us.
The case worker for Edward J. Karajulles is Will Ballard. His phone number in Baton Rouge, LA is (225) 709-9821. The FAX number is (225) 709-9289. Perhaps you can ask him why he hasn't sent Eddie to his closing. He won't tell you, but asking will let him know that the country is watching ICF and waiting to see what they plan on doing for those of us who are caught up in red tape.
Be prepared to run into lies in their "myth busters" section, such as:
>>MYTH: I'll get what my neighbor got (or didn't get).
>>FACT: There are several factors that determine eligibility and the amount of funding that a homeowner may receive. These factors include the amount ofdamage sustained to the home, the amount of FEMA funds that have been received, and any insurance settlements that have been awarded. Each homeowner's situation is different, and it is inaccurate to make comparisons based on what a neighbor has received. - from the Road2LA web site
The fact is, some people received $150,000.00 or close to it when there was minimal damage to their home. People in Jefferson Parish, for instance, where the damage to most homes was mostly cosmetic and minimal, received larger awards than people in St. Bernard Parish, a parish that was totally wiped out by hurricane Katrina.
Eddie is still waiting to hear from The Road Home. He signed papers the other day to give me power of attorney so that I can call them on his behalf. Eddie's health problems are such that he can't get too upset. He's in danger of having a stroke until he can get the blockage in his carotid artery fixed. He goes back to the surgeon on Friday to see if they discovered any other problems during his stress test. Anyway, I'll be calling Mr. Will Ballard some time this week to find out what is going on and why they haven't closed the deal yet.
FEMA is off the hook for now, as far as our situation is concerned. They've made many, MANY mistakes in the way they handled the aftermath of Katrina. The agency was out of touch with the urgent needs of people, and with our long term needs. I'm counting on the people of this country to put pressure on FEMA and the Feds to be sure that what happened to us NEVER, EVER happens to Americans again after a disaster. The FEMA Gulf Coast Recovery link: FEMA.
Our new governor, Bobby Jindal, is doing what he can, I think, to fix some of the things that were broken when Kathleen Blanco was in office. If you'd like to put your two cents in to the governor, the website is Bobby Jindal.
If you'd like to know what's really happening down here, find some of my local friends and read their blogs, like HurricaneKatrinaUBitch, who has a blog about the levee that was stuffed with FRIGGIN NEWSPAPERS, and Mardi Claw, who writes the good, the bad and the ugly about life in New Orleans, plus she's a cool artist who does Day of the Dead art. My Rhonda Loves NOLA profile has many friends and links that will give you a chance to see what's RIGHT about New Orleans and the people down here. Please, if you can, visit my friends' profiles, click on the links if you can give or buy merchandise that will help in the recovery of our area. I placed links and added friends that I KNOW are doing something down here, not just talking about it.
Anyway, thanks to all of you for your support, and please, if you have time, write to the prez for me and tell him that his recent trip down here was really too little, too late. I know I'm forgetting something, but I'm tired and this is the third time I'm trying to post this blog. Hope it works this time. Love you all ~ Rhonda
Soon to be homeless in the Third World, USA
Category: Life
I just wanted to update all of you on the trials and tribulations of Rhonda and Eddie.
Eddie will have a heart stress test today, and surgery soon on his carotid artery. His right carotid artery is more than 85% blocked, and he's been having TIA's (mini strokes). He has to have the surgery soon.
Ed's kidney failure seems to have slowed down; the doc wants to keep him at stage three as long as possible to avoid dialysis. His abdominal aortic aneurysm hasn't grown any; they won't operate on that until it's 5cm large. It's now at 4.5cm.
Yesterday, a group of people from the State of Louisiana Crisis Counseling Center came into our mobile home park to inform us that FEMA would be pulling our trailers out of here at the end of MAY. They wanted to know what we were going to do. WHAT THE FUCK DO THEY THINK WE'RE GOING TO DO??? We're still waiting for our grants from THE LOUISIANA ROAD HOME a.k.a. the Road To NOWHERE. Eddie can't work any more and his monthly check helps but isn't enough for us to recoup the money we've spent this past year on his medical care, nor is it enough to allow me to save any money. We will be struggling when we are on our own.
They said they can put us in an apartment, but don't know where, because there are so many people still in FEMA trailers, and so few rental properties here in St. Bernard Parish. They may have to place us elsewhere. We came back here when we had only a tent and a generator to get by with, and a bucket to piss in, because we wanted to clean this place up and be a part of rebuilding it. We've been doing our part. Now the Federal Government and the State of Louisiana is rewarding us by putting us out on the street, or sending us to another parish to live. I work in the public school system here in St. Bernard Parish, and it would be VERY INCONVENIENT for me to move to another parish!
In any case, if things get much worse for us, I'm going to post some phone numbers and fax numbers for you to bombard with your opinions about this state of affairs. Who cares if I piss them off? We're getting ZIP from them as it is. I'll keep you posted. ~ Rhonda
The Scarlet Letter of St. Bernard
Current mood: Really pissed off
Category: Really pissed off Life
Here in St. Bernard Parish, you can’t go down a street without seeing several homes marked with a big red "X". The red letter stickers are placed on homes scheduled for demolition. The only problem is, some of those homes have people living in FEMA trailers in the yard. They have gutted their homes, and are awaiting either insurance money (yes, some people are still fighting that fight), or Road Home grant money, or both in order to rebuild the home.
While some of our citizens have "cut and run", leaving their property untouched since the storm, many others are just waiting for the funds to fix their homes, and should not have the added stress of being marked with an "X". Most of you think we’re sitting on our asses waiting for the government to fix everything for us. Not so...what we’ve been through the past two plus years AFTER the storm passed over is worse than Katrina herself. Those of you who know me and have listened to me know what I’m talking about. We waited for no one: we came here with nothing but tents and generators and got to work cleaning up what we could, rebuilding what we could, working if we could. The road to recovery is long, and hard, and filled with potholes, but if we don’t walk it, who will? Here’s a little film about a couple of people who are being "X’d" by their local government. If the film doesn’t show, here’s the link: THE SCARLET LETTER OF ST. BERNARD
We'll never have a final count of the dead from Katrina. The dead have not all laid themselves down yet.
Like the ones walking around in a drug haze...they're dead and don't yet know it. Or the ones who have disease in their bodies but think it's nothing serious and can't afford to see a doctor about it. Or the ones who use the money they're saving to rebuild to go to the doctor, and a few thousand dollars later find out they're dying and can't stop themselves from dying.
I know some who have committed suicide since Katrina. They should be counted. I have friends who have died in the prime of their lives since Katrina. They should be counted. My grandmother's brother, Uncle Irvin, died a few months after Katrina. He was old and frail, and the evacuation and return just wore him out. My Aunt Pat found out she had an Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm, and before they could fix it, she died. My friend David Zeiars, who looked fine when I ran into him on my return home from the Diaspora, died some months later from cancer. He was a year younger than me. My friend, Joey Grillot, died on Christmas day after a long illness. They should be counted. I have cousins struggling with cancer and tumors and are putting up the good fight, but things just seem to keep progressing...the count isn't finished yet.
After weeks of nagging, my sweet Eddie, thin, pale and weary from his illness, gave in to me and went to the emergency room on New Year's Eve. The final plea was made when I felt a pounding in his abdomen, as though his heart had fallen. I looked up the symptom on the internet: Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm, the same thing my Aunt Pat died from. His attitude was that "we all have to die sometime".
I sat him down and looked him in the eyes, and said, "Are you ready to lay down to bed tonight and never wake up?" He thought about it for a while. I got impatient. I told him that if he didn't care what happened to him, I should inform him that his indifference to his health is KILLING me. My chest hurts, my stomach hurts, and I'm so stressed out that my throat actually contracts and gags me.
He said "Okay, I'll go."
We got to the Tulane Medical Center ER at around 3:00 in the afternoon. He didn't get to the back until around 11:30 p.m. As the nurse hooked him up to the various machines, he looked up at the clock and said, "Happy New Year!" We kissed and welcomed in the new year in the emergency room.
The nurse did her thing as I explained to her why we had come in. I told her that he has a stron pulse in his abdomen. Her response was, "I didn't hear it with my stethoscope." I said, "Well, I did earlier today and it was louder in his abdomen than in his chest!". She said, "I felt his abdomen. I didn't feel anything." And she left.
I placed my hand on the spot where I could feel the pulse. It was quite strong. I left my hand there until the doctor came in, and asked him to put his hand there. The look on his face told me that he was thinking the same thing I was thinking. He ordered a scan.
Eddie has an aneurysm that is 4.5cm in diameter. At 5 cm the aneurysm is in danger of rupturing and causing shock, coma and/or death. I'd also heard bruit in Eddie's carotid arteries; the doctor heard it, too. I'd provided the doctor with all of Eddie's previous lab results because his kidneys seemed to be getting worse. He drew new labs.
After he got the results, he sat down to talk to us. Because Eddie has no insurance, he said he'd have to go to Baton Rough, 80 miles away, to the cardio-vascular center in the Charity Hospital system. Of the thirteen hospitals that once operated in New Orleans and the surrounding area, there are only three fully functioning hospitals. They are all over crowded, under-staffed, and do not have all of the diagnostic capabilities they once had. And many of the premier specialists have left the area for greener pastures.
Eddie's kidneys are worsening. He has to have surgery for the aneurysm. It's like a ticking time-bomb. He has a blockage or hardened arteries in his neck. And, the doctor added, "This is the least of your problems, but if you ever get a sharp pain in your back, it's because you have a small kidney stone that might shift when you move and cause pain. But it's nothing to worry about, considering all the other stuff."
The doctor was nice, he was honest. He explained things in a way we'd understand them. We left with instructions to follow up at the clinic with his regular doctor, who can't see him until January 15 because, well, because he has A GAZILLION OTHER PATIENTS TO TEND TO BETWEEN NOW AND THE FIFTEENTH.
We got home at 5:00 a.m. and I fixed us something to eat. Eddie said, "I don't know what's worse, the knowing or the not knowing." And I knew then that my sister Tracy had been right when she asked, "Do you think he won't go to the hospital because he's afraid of what he'll find out?"
So, here we are. I love Eddie with all of my heart...I'm not dealing well with his health problems and thinking of how miserable my world would be without him if something should go wrong. I don't know how this story will end. I pray it ends well. If it doesn't, if things just don't go our way and we don't make it through this hell, don't let them forget to count us. We all deserve to be counted as victims of the storm that took our friends, our loved ones, our homes, our lifestyles, and our lives. And don't you dare tell me to get over it, because it's not over yet. ~ Rhonda
The Katrina Effect
Current mood: crappy
Category: Life
I'm sick of the word...KATRINA...I'm sick of saying it, hearing it, thinking about it, living it. But, I haven't been able to escape it. Katrina came and went more than two years ago, but her effect on the people of the Gulf Coast states is still very real, very raw. I've often succumbed to anger over the course of these past two years, but have never, until now, allowed myself to lose my sense of self-determination. I thought that if I took things one day at a time, I could take anything. But I can't.
The past few weeks have left me emotionally and physically drained, and wondering when...if...it will ever end. It began with a week of fighting on the phone and by email with the Louisiana Recovery Authority, responsible for getting grant money into the hands of people who lost their homes in Katrina, whose "Road Home" program informed us that we would be getting a big $3,750 with which to start our lives over in St. Bernard Parish. Now, I know people who had very minimal damage to their homes who recieved $150,000 grants. They were already in their homes. I know that it wouldn't take $150,000 to refinish their floors and add a little trimwork. How the hell did the Road Home think that they needed $150,000, and I, and so many like me, who lost our homes, would only need $3,750 to start over? And that isn't even the best part: they send your award letter with the disclaimer that your award amount doesn't guarantee that the Road Home will have the funds available to PAY you. Nice, huh?
The following week I got the news that one cousin, who I"m very close to, was diagnosed with inoperable cancer in both lungs. We grew up together, him and his twin brother and I. We're the same age...went to kindergarten together and a few years of grammar school...I was in his wedding...I know how hard his life has been...I don't want him to have to go through this! It just doesn't seem fair to me right now. Not long after that, I heard that another cousin's son shot himself in the heart. He was 46 years old. I wasn't close to him, but had only a few months ago visited with his father who told me how well he was doing with his business. I was shocked by the news. He left two children, ages fourteen and eleven behind.
The night I was to go to his wake, I got a phone call from one of my brothers. He said that he was worried about another family member who had been depressed; now he couldn't reach him on the phone. Could I go check on him?
I got in my car and went to the FEMA trailer under the pretense of bringing candy for the little girl. I knocked several times, no one answered. I locked louder...I could hear the TV on. Finally, his girlfriend came to the door, obviously loaded, and I said, "What are y'all doing?" "Sleeping", she said. "At 7:30 in the evening?" I didn't wait for an invitation to come in...I just took a step in and she backed up to let me in. The four year old was on the sofa, and sat up when she saw me come in. She had fallen asleep watching TV, alone, on the sofa.
"Is _______ home?" I asked. J, the girlfriend, said, "I don't know. Maybe. I don't know where he is." I brought the candy to the baby and she sat on my lap and hugged me. "Is your daddy home?" I asked. "No, he's working." she said.
I began to talk to J, and asked her what was going on. She said that she and ____had been fighting a lot, and she's sick of his shit. I said, "Well, J, I'm looking at you and I can see that you're messed up. It's not just _____ that's the problem." She didn't respond. I stayed for two hours talking to her; the baby kept saying she wanted to go home. When I told her she was home, she said, "No, I want to go home to my house." Her house doesn't exist any more, but it's still in her memory of a place where things were more normal, where her mom and dad didn't fight every day, where she had a room and toys and friends, and her mom played with her and laughed with her. She was only two when Katrina hit, but she remembers.
I asked J to come to my trailer to spend the night. She wouldn't. I was afraid to leave the baby there. ____ had called several times while I was there. Finally, J said that he was on his way home, so I thought the baby would be okay when her dad came home.
That night, I called my family member and told him that he needs to talk to ______ and tell him to get out of there, with the baby, because I can't just sit by and do nothing when they're doing drugs with a baby to take care of. I was ready to drop a dime on my own family if neccessary, to save him and his child. I already have a brother in the grave, I didn't want to lose anyone else to drugs.
The next morning, I got a call from my sister. She said that ____ had called his dad to tell him he couldn't take it any more. He had to get out of there. He was abusing drugs and it's just too easy these days to abuse in St. Bernard Parish: there's a seller on every corner. I can vouch for that: I reported two dealers selling on the street near my trailer several months ago. I don't know if they got busted, but they don't sell out in the open any more. I wasn't going to tolerate that kind of shit in front of the kids in the park.
Anyway, my sister took the baby, ____went to his dad's house, and J was left alone. I went later to check on her, and had a long talk with her. I don't know if she heard much of what I said. Meanwhile, I got sick with a bad cold. I rarely catch colds or the flu, but I suppose the stress kinda wore me down. Early the next morning, I woke up early, because I'd planned on spending the day with my cousin Charlene, who'd come in from Alabama for our cousin's funeral. She and I were very close growing up, and we really wanted to see each other. She'd been displaced by Katrina, and decided to stay in Alabama. The phone rang. It was _____. He told me he'd gone to the trailer to get some work tools, and was kicking J out of the trailer. Could I come get her? I told him she couldn't stay with Ed and I in our small trailer; besides, there were probably still crack dealers in my park, and I didn't want her with me if she was using. I told him I'd come get J to get her some help.
She looked so lost. Her parents wanted nothing to do with her, and told _____'s parents that they didn't want her in their home. She had nowhere to go. I couldn't help myself...my heart ached for her. No human being should ever feel so utterly alone in this world. I knew J, I knew how good a mom she could be, I knew how good a person she was once. It broke my heart to see her like that.
She told me that she was willing to get help, that she couldn't stand herself, couldn't stand living like she'd been living, couldn't stand not being able to care for her own daughter. I spent the entire day trying to find help for her. Guess what? In the New Orleans area, there is no help to be had. The hospital wouldn't take her. They gave me a list of numbers to call. Nobody answered those calls. I called _____to let him know that I'd tried to get help for J, but would have to bring her back to the trailer because she had noplace else to go.
My sister Tracy decided to take her in for a night; ____went to get her and took her to my sister's. I took Monday off of work to try, once again, to get help for J. I spent another day of calling and traveling, and still, I found no one who had a bed to keep her. Every program was full. There simply are not enough mental health and rehabilitation services available since Katrina. I brought her, again, back to the trailer and called ____to let him know. J assured me that she wants badly to get help, and wouldn't do anything stupid. Well, it's a week later, and yesterday, Monday, J finally got placed in a facility in Mississippi. She'll get the help she needs there, and can finally begin to heal and find herself and her dignity again. Hopefully, she'll be the good mother I know she can be for that baby. Now, if only we could convince _____that he can't do it alone, and that he needs help, too.
I have friends going through the same thing with their family members; they've given in to the hopelessness and began to abuse drugs and/or alcohol to the point of addiction. Families are breaking up; people are dying. All of us are stressed to the max, not just by the things we have to go through, but by what our families are going through. My niece got her Road Home grant, but got just enough for the down payment on a modest home; she moved in without any furniture...she, her husband and her little boy. She's worried that they won't be able to make the house note if she doesn't find a better job soon.
Finally, this past week, while I was home sick with that nasty cold, I got a call at 5:00 a.m.; someone else in my family was having a crisis. Someone very close to me. We drove her husband to the hospital. He was having a total breakdown, physical and mental. Because there are no available beds, they hospital kept him as long as they could in the emergency room, but he walked out a couple of days later. They couldn't help him. And so, that family is now torn apart, unable to live together because of the state of mind of the breadwinner; and they're faced with the possiblity of losing the home they were rebuilding if he is no longer able to work because of his state of mind.
I went back to work yesterday, still not feeling well, but knowing that being at work with my kids would make me feel better. Jill, the teacher I work with, said, "It's been hell without you here!" I said, "Yeah, it's been hell for me, too!" When I went out for a break, I called my sister Tracy. She let me know that our dad is losing blood somewhere and they want to run tests; he went through this last year and they never found out why he continues to be anemic. I don't iknow why they think they'll find out now, with the same damned tests. And my mom has blockages in her carotid arteries. She's going in for more tests on Wednesday. I don't even want to entertain the thought that anything serious might happen to my mother. I refuse to think about it right now.
Today, Eddie's niece called me with a problem to solve...I'll do what I can, but it's getting to the point that I want to throw my phone into the Mississippi River.
Elections are this weekend. I'm voting for anybody who is NOT currently holding office in the State of Louisiana. I want new blood in. I want a new vision for the future of this place. I want old politics out, I want honesty and integrity in. And if the new guys don't deliver on that, well, in four years, we'll kick their asses out, too.
I realize that this is a long, rambling narrative, but I had to get it out. As much as I've come to loathe the name "KATRINA", that name will haunt me for many years to come, because the solutions to the problems we are having down here don't come easily, or quickly. You can't build a mental health clinic or a hospital overnight. You can't rebuild homes in a day. And you can't build shit with $3,750, except maybe a nice dog house. So, Katrina will have an effect on my living, my relationships, and my thinking for a long, long time. ~ Rhonda
It's been difficult these past two years since hurricanes Cindy, Katrina and Rita hit Louisiana. 2005 changed me forever, mostly in a good way, but traces of fear still linger
Anyone who lives in the hurricane zone knows the anxiety of watching those little counter-clockwise swirls spinning off the African coast, or low-pressure systems forming in the Carribbean every year between June and November. Since Katrina, though, the anxiety has become overwhelming. I am still living in a small FEMA trailer, two years after the storm, and my community still looks sad and broken. Another storm would be the absolute end of it.
I also have travel anxiety. When I finally joined my family, eight days after Katrina, in Northern Louisiana, we were at a State Park in the middle of nowhere. We had to drive quite a distance to get anywhere. It was a beautiful place, and the people were kind to us. But I was anxious to get home, to see what was left, if anything, and to get to the work of cleaning up and fixing up.
We had to make frequent trips home because at first, we weren't allowed to stay there overnight. There were no services available, no water, no electricity, etc. It looked like a war zone, or the site of a nuclear attack. All of that travelling, the horrible traffic at dusk as we all tried to leave the parish at once, the insanity of the drivers on the highways, it made me crazy. Now, two years later, I STILL have to travel across the river or across the lake to shop for the things I need.
Worse yet, most of my family has moved away, so visiting involves travelling.
I used to love to travel. A long drive was relaxing to me, and I was always up for a road trip with anyone who asked. Now, I hate it. I'd planned on spending the summer visiting the many friends and family members who had moved away. I miss all of them so much, I miss having them five minutes away. I miss the family gatherings, the chance meetings at WalMart or WinnDixie. I miss getting a call from my mom for help with her computer and being able to jump in my car and be there for her within five minutes. I miss my life. I've been almost reclusive this summer, leaving only occasionally because I couldn't stand to be away from someone I loved a day longer. But by the time I got home, my anxiety from the traveling would be so great I'd be shaking and my chest would ache.
I know it's irrational, but my world is surreal, and no one down here is rational any more.
I used to love the summertime, too. I was always outside doing something. But since Katrina, after spending eight days in the heat of summer with no electricity and little water, I can't take the heat and I'm always thirsty. I've always got to have something cold to drink with me; I hated being hot and having nothing cold to drink. I tried to go to a festival this summer, and had to leave after twenty minutes because I nearly passed out from the heat. I just can't take it any more.
To those of you who live in the hurricane zone, let's keep our fingers crossed. I don't wish a hurricane on anyone. I feel badly for the people who were hit by Dean...I feel guilty about being glad it didn't hit here. I wonder sometimes if anyone else feels as I do. I wonder if I'll ever stop feeling this way. I wonder if my community will ever be fixed. I wonder a lot of things.
Take care all of you: pay attention to the weather, and DO NOT STAY if you're told to leave. Just don't do it. It's not worth it. And don't forget to pack lots of water.
I've been tagged by ~American Beauty~, and since I've been neglecting her lately, I guess I'd better comply!
1. The first poem I remember reading/hearing and reacting to was ...
Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
If I should die before I wake
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
...what can I say? I was raised Catholic, and hearing that I might die before I wake was a lot to react to!!
2. I was forced to memorize...
One story from Chaucer's Canterbury Tales in Middle English, The Raven by EAP, and The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
I find it disconcerting that I had to memorize all of that, and the only thing H.was forced to memorize was The Lord's Prayer. Seems unfair.
3. I read poetry because...
It quickly and efficiently transports me out of this miserable, crumbling world around me into someone else's.
4. A poem I'm likely to think about when asked about a favorite poem is...
Oh, man, I can't just pick out one. A cluster of 'em popped into my brain when I read that question. To name a few:
"If" by Rudyard Kipling, "Phenomenal Woman" by Maya Angelou, "A Dream Deferred" by Langston Hughes, "America" and "Howl" by Allen Ginsberg...you get the picture; I could go on all night if I include my favorite MySpace poets.
5. I write poetry but....
BUT WHAT???
6. My experience reading poetry is different from my experience reading other kinds of literature....
because poetry is a quick fix, a rush of emotion, a quiet meditation, instant gratification. I love a good book, but when you just gotta have a fix, poetry is the way to go!
7. I find poetry to be...
pretty much like breathing. Can't live without it.
8. The last time I heard poetry...
I was excited! I found a website with an old recording of Allen Ginsberg speaking an early draft of "America".
I also love to listen to George Wallace - the poet, not the dead governor of Georgia. And to Belfast David's recorded poems, and to Lamont Carey, and to several of the spoken word artists whose links are on my other profile and I'm too lazy to go there....
9. I think poetry is...
Our raw reaction to all that we experience each day, whether it's a foggy morning, or day at the beach, lost love or new love, devastation or exhilaration. You can write 500 pages of a novel and hide yourself in there...but a poem exposes you. I love that about poetry.
...and since everybody in the world has already been tagged, I'll give it a rest, unless one of you has NOT been tagged and wants to pick it up again! ~ Rhonda
Hurricane Season: Why I'm still here
Current mood: grateful
Category: Life
For those of you who are still wondering why I came back to St. Bernard Parish, please look at the video on our School Board web site. It's these remarkable people, and these remarkable children, that brought me back and keep me here. ~ Rhonda
Yesterday I was able to personally thank our Superintendant, Doris Voitier, for putting it all on the line and getting our schools opened, without federal assistance, and against all odds. She is gracious in sharing the credit with all of us, saying that it could not have been done without the commitment of each and every one of us. The video takes you from pre-Katrina, through Katrina, and the rebuilding after Katrina. Very good video ~ please watch. And, we are forever grateful to the thousands of volunteers and donors who helped us to resurrect our school system for our children. ~ Rhonda
amused
anxious
bullied
Love you all ~ Rhonda
crappy
grateful