I sat in my SIL's living room and watched in horror has my beloved city and home where destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. In those few hours she came on shore she ruined and changed many lives. We now are living in Apopka, Fla which is about 30 mins North of Orlando and 600 someodd miles from my beloved but ruined city.
We have very little most of which was given to us by the sheer kindness of strangers. We lost everything in those hours that Katrina hit. As the storm surge broke the levee that was behind my house and filled my neighborhood with the waters of Lake Ponchatrain. Or as my friends and I now jokingly call it the Gulf Of New Orleans. From what I was told the water rose 5-7 ft in a matter of 20 seconds and then rose to 20 ft in 10 mins. The water was at around 12 - 15 ft the day after Katrina (Aug 30) and as of today the water in my house is still at around 4-5 ft. So basically my house has been sitting underwater for 3 weeks. YUCK I don't even want to know what it will look like but I imagine its a bunch of moldy sludge.
Oh yeah don't listen to the national news, if you want to really know what is going on down there, go to the local sources, I've learned more reading one day of the local paper then I have in 3 weeks of CNN, FOX or MSNBC. Some local websites to check out are
nola.com,
WDSU these are where I've gotten the best info from.
I've got more to say about Katrina and I've finally at the point where I can talk about it as we are getting ready to get hit by other storm.
Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers as we will be needing them.
Something else I want to add. I was emailed this , this week, it's one of the best things I have read. It was written by a columnist at the local paper in New Orleans and it is just awesome.
Dear America,
I suppose we should introduce ourselves: We're South Louisiana. We have arrived on your doorstep on short notice and we apologize for that, but we never were much for waiting around for invitations. We're not much on formalities like that. And we might be staying around your town for a while, enrolling in your schools and looking for jobs, so we wanted to tell you a few things about us. We know you didn't ask for this and neither did we, so we're just going to have to make the best of it. First of all, we thank you. For your money, your water, your food, your prayers, your boats and buses and the men and women of your National Guards, fire departments, hospitals and everyone else who has come to our rescue. We're a fiercely proud and independent people, and we don't cotton much to outside interference, but we're not ashamed to accept help when we need it. And right now, we need it. Just don't get carried away. For instance, once we get around to fishing again, don't try to tell us what kind of lures work best in your waters. We're not going to listen. We're stubborn that way. You probably already know that we talk funny and listen to strange music and eat things you'd probably hire an exterminator to get out of your yard. We dance even if there's no radio. We drink at funerals. We talk too much and laugh too loud and live too large and, frankly, we're suspicious of others who don't. But we'll try not to judge you while we're in your town. Everybody loves their home, we know that. But we love South Louisiana with a ferocity that borders on the pathological. Sometimes we bury our dead in LSU sweatshirts. Often we don't make sense. You may wonder why, for instance - if we could only carry one small bag of belongings with us on our journey to your state - why in God's name did we bring a pair of shrimp boots? We can't really explain that. It is what it is. You've probably heard that many of us stayed behind. As bad as it is, many of us cannot fathom a life outside of our border, out in that place we call Elsewhere. The only way you could understand that is if you have been there, and so many of you have. So you realize that when you strip away all the craziness and bars and parades and music and architecture and all that hooey, really, the best thing about where we come from is us. We are what made this place a national treasure. We're good people. And don't be afraid to ask us how to pronounce our names. It happens all the time. When you meet us now and you look into our eyes, you will see the saddest story ever told. Our hearts are broken into a thousand pieces. But don't pity us. We're gonna make it. We're resilient. After all, we've been rooting for the Saints for 35 years. That's got to count for something. OK, maybe something else you should know is that we make jokes at inappropriate times. But what the hell. And one more thing: In our part of the country, we're used to having visitors. It's our way of life. So when all this is over and we move back home, we will repay to you the hospitality and generosity of spirit you offer to us in this season of our despair. That is our promise. That is our faith.
Chris Rose for The Times-Picayune Chris Rose can be reached at
noroses@bellsouth.net. Please pass this around to all Louisiana natives, wherever they may be
