Eight years ago....

Eight years ago today I woke up hungover at my buddy's house in San Francisco with a cell phone full of texts and missed calls...Katrina had hit.

My parents and grandma had already evacuated from New Orleans but the news was covered with the footage of the destruction and devastation.

My family lost most of their material possessions because of the storm, but the rebuilding process brought us closer together in many ways.

I was looking through old emails for pics and didn't find much, but found these few..

The first one of the front of my parents' house...this about hafway through gutting it...you can see the watermarks on the front of the house and the big X on the upstairs window...

The next pic is of the trash pile on the neutral ground (median strip) in front of their house. Note the size relative to the truck.

Then my brother in front of our garage. The reed yukon denali had to be towed out and my Dad's beer fridge and bait freezer had floatd on top of it.

Finally me in front of a neighborhood Latin bar that had been half looted...

Sincerely,

Jim

Here is an account of the time we spent gutting and cleaning up my family's homes...this was written by a family friend that drove over from Florida to help us out...

It's a lot of words, but thought some of you all might want to read it...

I arrived home Sunday night and still find it hard to describe accurately this most recent trip to the Gulf Coast. It's hard to describe the whole ambiance of the environment in which we worked and the scope of the destruction which we witnessed and to some extent, also created. Pictures, video and words really do it an injustice. It's not just one or two things you encounter then remember. It's the confluence of sensory, emotional, physical and mental experiences that's so hard to encapsulate then describe. Of a family and their friends from across the USA, some on their hands and knees, striving to retrieve objects of possible value from the floor of a once beautiful home while at the same time, others are trying valiantly to save the home by destroying the house. Working hard to salvage a part of someone's life that no insurance check can replace while attacking the cancerous mold which threatens to engulf and destroy the very dwelling where it survives. Racing against time yet knowing that in the future, the government could mandate that the neighborhood be bulldozed but that this effort still has to be expended now to even stand a chance. And to do so in the context of military checkpoints, curfews, limited supplies, heat and humidity, potential toxicity, a plethora of different smells and odors, a spectrum of coloration of mold on the various surfaces, the unknown contents of the mud and water at your feet and with furniture strewn about by a lunatic decorator called Katrina.

I know it's old news now; that the media focus has shifted to other calamities in Pakistan, Central America and on the gridiron. Life goes on and always will. But it is so today's news for these folks and for so many others in similar straits. In that context, I find it more compelling than ever to thank all of you again for your comments and emails, and especially for your moral, financial and in kind support over these past weeks that made it possible for us to help these folks in New Orleans as well as those folks in Mississippi a few weeks back.

Anyway, I'll finish this long sequence of emails with another long email consisting of mental images, thoughts and memories:
   
Looking Around
If one stood on the Veterans Blvd bridge over the 17th St levee looking south towards the city and the Mississippi River, this is what you would see: Behind you, the breached levee, perhaps a few hundred feet wide, leading to Lake Ponchatrain, which is really a bay, perhaps a couple miles away. To the right, over the National Guard checkpoint, is the town of Metairie in Jefferson Parish with all the usual signs of human habitation and also less than a mile from where we stayed. To the left is the neighborhood of Lakeview in Orleans Parish, less than a mile from where we worked, with abandoned rescue craft littering the street and devoid of human, plant or animal life except for flies. The contrast, shoulder to shoulder, is striking.

Orientation
Both Tony's house where we stayed and Virgil and Alice's house where we worked are located about the same distance from Veterans Blvd and Lake Ponchatrain. If the levee didn't exist, they would live a short walk from each other. Also, had the west bank of the levee given way instead of the east, Tony's house would have flooded and Virgil and Alice's house would have probably stayed dry. The grandma's house is much closer to the lake than the parents house but in the same general neighborhood. It's also much closer to the breech.

Driving About
Driving through the city to avoid the checkpoints, down Tulane Ave., Carrollton Ave., Canal St., Claiborne Ave., Broad Ave., Esplanade Ave., and not seeing a soul, or a working traffic light, or another car other than an occasional military or police vehicle. And you avoid eye contact with them so they do not get too curious since we're not supposed to be there anyhow. Also, learning the New Orleans left turn. Parking in the French Quarter is still no picnic.

First Thing You Notice
Large fluorescent X's visible from the street on every house with the date on the north vortex, the number of dead found in the house on the south vortex and a code identifying the military outfit who searched the house on the west vortex, and sometimes, some unknown (to me) code on the east vortex. Every house was broken into and searched after Katrina and/or Rita.

The Damage
A refrigerator resting on the hood of the SUV in the garage of Russell's house. Waterlines above the doors and windows. Cars sitting on top of fences and coated in gray mud on the medians. Boats on top of boats on top of piers on Lakeshore Drive. Jet Skis, canoes, fishing boats left abandoned in the streets. Building debris piled 30 foot high just off Robert E Lee and the Hammond bridge. Huge oaks toppled like matchsticks in City Park and all over the city. The look of awe and amazement on Tobey and Jonah's faces as we drove slowly and circuitously into the neighborhood on their first day there. Small mountains of household items, including many refrigerators, left trashed on the curbs. Two back hoes, 15 feet up, working on the second story of the largest debris pile of tree parts I have ever seen, soon to become the largest mulch pile, continuously fed by dump trucks of all sizes and shapes, all on top of what was a nice park across the street from the Russell's home when we arrived. Mold everywhere, in living color, literally.

The Family
Listening to Virgil Sr tell the story behind each item in the pictures he took of his house and its' contents prior to the storm. And to his son Jim or friend Bob Rivard or Uncle Bob recounting memories as we navigated the empty streets of the city;  a captivating story on every block, in every neighborhood and driving slow enough to hear every story unfold. Alice, always ready with a warm smile, no matter what was happening. Uncle Tony recounting the incredible story of his mother. Jimmy D, the best scavenger ever for needed supplies. Judy D, who almost made me feel good about spilling coffee on her carpet and taking out her neighbor's mailbox, all within 15 minutes, the first morning. Attorneys Bob and Bob, never seeming to take a break even after tearing out drywall for themselves and others for the past 4 weeks. Jim and Virgil describing their days at Grandma's house, which happens to be across the street from a catholic girls high school. Ex-wives and x-girlfriends showing up to work - more than once.

The Smell
The dead cats next door. Refrigerators in general but Sue's especially. The garage after we towed out the SUV and the refrigerators. A different odor with every shift of the wind. Smells I just can't describe in words. Ok, so don't try this at home unless you're still very curious: Take half a raw chicken, an egg, some cheese, some lunch meat and place it all into a large bowl or pot. Fill the container with water and milk to cover the contents. Go outside and grab a handful of the darkest dirt available, compost would be better, and sprinkle it on top. Now pee in it, just a little bit but enough to at least moisten the dirt. Let this sit for 10 days in a humid room, at 90 degrees with only diffuse sunlight. After 10 days, drain some of the fluid, leaving just enough to keep the lower layer of the contents moist. Let this sit for another 10 days in a humid room at 90 degrees with diffuse sunlight. Now take a big whiff. That's many a kitchen right now in the Big Queasy.

The Conditions
90 degrees, no breeze, wearing long sleeves, long pants, rubber boots, rubber gloves, respirator, goggles, bandana and vicks vap-o-rub. Then with my mask 'protecting' my throat, ooops, breathing in some gradoo from the kitchen floor that flew up as I stripped off the wood planks with a shovel - yech. And then the shower of water which fell from the A/C ducts as we finally broke the first duct free. Drywall dust and other things hanging suspended in the air and leaving a white / gray coating on everything, including your skin. After enough of that, it was rubber boots, shorts, tank top, legger bandanas, any gloves and an occasional surgical mask. Let's face it, before long you're just a part of the environment.

The Work
Avoiding the kitchen until, God bless them, Stephanie and Anna tackled it. Lying on a wet sheet of fiberglass insulation while disconnecting the water pipes and drains from the sinks. The look on Judith's face while someone reached behind a mud encrusted toilet to get a nail. Wooden cabinets, furniture, book shelves that came apart in your hands. Books slipping out of your hands like watermelon seeds. Slicing the wet carpet into strips so a single person can lug it out to the street. Holding your breath as you shovel some nasties into a wheelbarrow.  Drywall that crumbles apart, with few big pieces, becoming goo under your boot, lots of sweeping, shoveling, and wheel barrowing (a verb??). The claw or hammer vs the countless nails and screws still holding up pieces of drywall. Climbing inside Grandma's house via the window and almost sliding across the 'floor' of  wet books and other things. The taste of chlorine and the haze it creates as you look at lights at night and the laxative it becomes if you swallow enough of it (even with a mask and goggles!).

The Social Life
The feeling of complete fatigue mitigated by an ice cold Guinness at the end of the day. Sitting on the tailgates of the trucks, like the destruction workers we were, tired and dirty, downing a cold one or two from the coolers, talking trash, before heading for the showers and dinner. MREs at midnight by chef Danny. Eight dollar burgers from the limited menu at the Red Eye Bar and Grille. The struggle for the attention of the two girls Danny, Virgil and Tony met there. Jambalaya one night and Italian Sausages another at Susan's with the whole crew, the two girls and her three dogs. Hand grenades, bloodies and hamburgers in the French Quarter. Hurricane Tony Boylan. Sitting on a circle of coolers eating MREs for lunch, after sanitizing our hands from a gallon sized jug of GermX, under the only tree left out front, right next to the pile of moist debris we just took out of the house, and enjoying every bite. Dinner at that great ribs place. Dominoes still delivered. Hot lunch from Steph who paid us the ultimate compliment on the final day when she declared the house smelled "pretty good".

Coming Home
The last day, pressure washing all the tools, boxes, containers, truck parts, cords, boots, gloves. Cleaning the hand tools with gasoline, cleaning the power tools with disinfectant wipes. WD-40 on everything. Packing the truck then collapsing asleep at Tonys, missing dinner with everyone. Driving home, unpacking the truck and getting a whiff of a familiar odor I still managed to bring home.

Anyway...sorry for the downer post...this anniversary always brings back a lot of memories and emotions for me.

Sincerely,

Jim

I was living in FL at the time & still making repairs to our house in Pensacola following Hurricane Ivan from earlier.  We had a lot of transplants from the Orleans area making their way to P'Cola to seek housing, food, work & a chance to start life again.  Thanks for sharing your account of it.  Having rode out a Hurricane from inside a boarded up house, it is a scary event.

When I look at these pics and think back (and see the pics) to my visit to your parents house just a few months ago you realize how much of a story of triumph this really is not only for your own family but for NOLA in general.

You can still see a lot of signs of the devastation when you drive around the city and everyone has a story they're willing to share but in the end everyone that I met there ended thier stories with a huge smile that made you feel welcome.  That smile also let you know that while it'll never be forgotten things will definetely continue to get better.

I hadn't seen that pic of me in front of that bar in awhile, and haven't been in that neighborhood since.

A bar and "gentlemans club" is still there.

Here is a review on Yelp:

the missus and I went here for rumored hefty mexican strippers.  Though there was a pole on the bar, there were no hefty strippers to be seen.  However there wereabout a dozen scantily dressed women lolling about the bar while day laborers stuck their hands up their skirts.

I imagine you can get in plenty of trouble in that place.   

 

Sincerely,

Jim

perspective is a real trip sometimes.
My main memories of that time were (aside from seeing it unfold on TV and wondering what country I was in) reading about Johnny White's, a bar we had visited all 3 days of our stay in NO in 2003, staying open without power and giving beers to the cops who stopped in. Wondering what happened to the Clover Grill, where I was hit on by the giant waiter .

I can't even imagine what it must have been like there, but the recipe for the smell duplication gives me an idea.

funny and tragic all at the same time.

a very interesting & thought provoking post Jim, thanks

Anyway...sorry for the downer post...

Not even, Buddy!  That was inspiring.  To get a sense of the reality that you guys dealt with is a gift to us - a glimpse of what can happen to any of us, and hope for how any of us should want to respond and be assisted.  Well done - thanks for sharing this.  You rock.

 

Anyway...sorry for the downer post...

Not even, Buddy!  That was inspiring.  To get a sense of the reality that you guys dealt with is a gift to us - a glimpse of what can happen to any of us, and hope for how any of us should want to respond and be assisted.  Well done - thanks for sharing this.  You rock.

 

Not a downer, just a little sobering is all.  I like the reminder.
Makes me want to go & revisit it all for another 3 days of no sleep, many beers, po'boys, whiskey shots at Lafitte's, trolley rides through the garden district and midnight buggy rides through graveyards.  I've rarely packed so much fun into so few days as I did in New Orleans.

That was a mutha of a storm...

Jim,

8 years ago today, I was in dust storms and IED's in Iraq, but I felt a pull to LA because my brothers from the Tiger Brigade were going home (for those not familiar with the Tiger BDE, that is the Main BDE of the LA National Guard), an army buddy of mine was south of me in some of the crapier areas of the country.  I knew when they went home my time was not far behind them, for you see they were a few months ahead of us at Fort Hood when we mobilized.  Word got back to us, they were told on tarmac what had happened to their beloved state and for some the city they called home. 

As bad Jim's story was picture landing back home from a year in hell, only to be told your home may be lost, and we have no idea where your family is.  It was gut wrenching to us, for many of our back fills within our brigade came from East Texas up by the border of LA, and many had families in the affected areas.  I am not sure if it happened or not, but I did not hear of Emergency Leave request being processed.

  I don't think many of us there understood the gravity of what had just happened. Once we did there was little we could do from where we were.  My buddies family came out of it okay, not without losses, but they all survived.  Not everyone in the Tiger BDE faired as well.  I never thought much of Govonor Blanco, the term inept comes to mind frequently as does the image of Ray Nagal, another baffling bafoon, but those are seperate stories.  The one good thing she did for the Tiger BDE, was not extend their suffering further. 

She gave them an option to stay on active duty as part of the response, or be released.  A few people in the media critized her decision, but after a year in Iraq, then to come home to little if anything of your home, it was compfroting to those to know they could be released to go find thier families.

Thanks for reading and replying guys...

I feel better today...even though the Saints lost last night. 

 

 

Sincerely,

Jim

that is HEAVY stuff Jim....good to read things are getting back to as normal as possible.

....&theSAINTSareGONNAbeALRIGHT! 

Katrina changed my life. My mom was trapped in her house for a week no water no power. I had my cousin boat in to get her. My Grandma was missing for 11 days, they loaded her on bus but noone knew where....that shit rattled my family like nothing I had ever seen. The head of our family was gone for almost 2 weeks. My bro-inlaw found her in nashville....we lost possesion and houses but noone died. Me and my famy are stronger because of Katrina. I spent the following year living on the road playing music with all my NOLA friends.... Still am today and for that I am grateful. It woke up something inside of me. We'll never be the same... And thats sad. But i like to think we are smarter because of it, we are certainly stronger.... At the very least we got rid of the projects.... I feel your pain Jim~~

Katrina changed my life. My mom was trapped in her house for a week no water no power. I had my cousin boat in to get her. My Grandma was missing for 11 days, they loaded her on bus but noone knew where. My bro-inlaw found her in nashville.... Me and my famy are stronger because of Katrina. I spent the following year living on the road playing music with all my NOLA friends. We'll never be the same... And thats sad. But i like to think we are smarter because of it, we are certainly stronger.... At the very least we got rid of the projects.... I feel your pain Jim~~

Thanks for sharing Jude...you ever make it down to Monterey and wanna hook up and get out on the water just let me know...

Sincerely,

Jim

Im down there once or twice a year ill hit u up..holla if u come up.. Maybe bring some Tahoe crawfish im catching dem on da regular son...eat dat