Flowers and a Toast in memory of Katrina

Today I left some flowers on our memorial tree for all the people who lost loved ones two years ago today. I lit a candle and remembered the dayh when Katrina blew through the southeast and drowned New Orleans in its wake Mr. dd and I spent many sleepless nights worrying about our friends and family. More than one week later we were very blessed to learn that my sister saved a woman's life and was living in a shelter. In the meantime my parents had been near hysteria and drove down to the coast to look for her. It was complicated because both of them are handicapped snf my mother lived in Gulfport for maybe 20 years... so she was devastated by what she saw. They convinced the security to let them pass onto Hwy 90. My father said that nothing could compare to the things they witnessed and that he hoped he never had to see such things ever again. He said that television and photography could never convey the impact Katrina had on the region. The smell of death hung in the air accompanied by tons of debris hanging in what was left of the live oaks that shelter this distinctive environment most of the time.

The tree I leave flowers on is a Weeping Pussy Willow. It was planted to remember someone we lost not so long ago. Life goes on but it looks and feels different, forever more. True loss is never found.

The rest of this nation has stumbled past Katrina's horrors in a sedated haze of cable tv and easy credit. Katrina was a wake up call. A lot of people heard it and many of them chose to hit snooze. The difference is the rest of the world is watching us snooze via satellite. Any doubts they may have had about our nation are now confirmed. Are we becoming the nation that care forgot?

New Orleans will persist because it is and always will be the city that care forgot. People have always been attracted to the culture of New Orleans because its natives live for those moments of bliss,vlove and the grandueur and beauty that life can reveal...with a passion that often transcends reason. The sublime and the decadent hand in hand... not something common in most American cities.

When I worked at a Kinko's uptown (once a Hibernia Bank, now a Rue de la Course coffee shop) we used to call NOLA a Back Water Banana Republic. Our staff was full of over educated word processors and paper collators... who were gay, straight, butch, punk, transgenger, rock-a-billy, arty boho and more. I loved playing with the copy machines, making one ten cent copy for blue haired ladies on April 15 and spending the month of May explaining to Garden District Debs that we can't get the engraved effect of a wedding invitation with a xerox machine- regardless of the brand or model.

Even then, I knew. We spent labor day weekend in 1984 or 85 taping up our windows while waiting for a hurricane. We drove through the eye of the storm looking for my Mother who was living in Gulfport. She was staying in a three story brick house on the beach that had survived Camille.

Elena and Gloria blew past New Orleans that year. The Gulf Coast toasted their good fortune and we all moved on. I've always told my friends who expressed interest in New Orleans that if they wanted to go they better go soon since one day it would be America's version of Venice. I wish. Instead it is America's version of an urban landfill... full of people, places and things of the nation that care forgot.

The house my Mother stayed in during many Hurricanes didn't make it through Katrina.
In its place she left a casino barge. I hope no one was in the house when it rolled in with the tide.