K+15

It has been 15 years since the Federal Flood and Hurricane Katrina. Earlier this week, there were two storms in the gulf, both expected to develop into hurricanes. The forecast a week out had both coming at New Orleans, but as they got closer, Marco fizzled due to shear and we hardly felt anything. Laura developed into a monster storm, following a similar path as Hurricane Rita. 

We landed in Houston 3 days before Rita hit. We had bounced from my in-laws house, to my brother-in-law's house, to a friend's before securing an apartment in Houston thanks to friends.  I remember driving back and forth between Houston and NOLA after Rita and seeing trees shorn off half way, and twisted metal billboards and gas station canopies. 

Laura spared New Orleans, we were just on the outer edge and only got gusty winds and occasional rain though the rest of the state got slammed. Out of town friends and family were concerned we were staying, but I could reassure them that if state was bringing evacuees from the storm area to New Orleans to stay in hotels, it shouldn't be bad.

We had planned to have another "Isle of Denial" party like we did 5 years ago. With the 10 year anniversary of Katrina, the media was getting all ramped up and over blown. We decided to invite friends over but the rule was no one could talk about Katrina. We had a nice time, hanging out in the back yard, drinking and visiting. I supposed we could have held it this year--even with the pandemic, since we planned to be outside--but the weather isn't cooperating.

Having lived through Katrina, the Flood and aftermath--as incredibly stressful as it was and uncertain everything was--has given me the fortitude to weather this pandemic and 2020. I am not happy about it at all, but if things got better after Katrina, things will get better again. It just takes time.

Photos from the CBD where I had a cat sit this morning:

K+10 - We survived Katrina again

We didn't know how we were going to get through August 29, 2015 amid all the hoopla around the "Anniversary." G suggested we throw a party, invite friends over and fire up the grill. Sounded good to me. The morning of I saw our next door neighbors and invited them over. They moved in about 2 years ago (In 2005 the house was empty. The owners finally renovated it and sold it.). I told them we were having a party for the anniversary and to please come by. She said "That's nice. It's your anniversary?" I replied "No, for the Katrina Anniversary." She said "Oh, we weren't here then so I'm not sure of the actual date." I won't hold it against her, they are very nice people.

We're not the only ones who were not in the mood to rehash history. Many of our friends felt the same way. One of our friends blogged about it and it's been shared wide and far. Katrinaversary Blues: Of Resilience Tours, Carpetbloggers & Disaster Tourists. 

Even Chris Rose, who spoke to us in the months following Katrina from the NOLA.com website, wrote a piece that appears on Vice.com: New Orleans Is Tired of Talking About Hurricane Katrina. Unfortunately Chris Rose has had a tough go of it, fell on some hard times, and hasn't been writing as much as he used to. Every page of the Times-Picayune this past week seemed to have a K+10 story, complete with a special logo. Sunday, there was even a 68-page, full-color insert by ESPN titled "After The Storm: A summer in search of saints, sinners and lost souls in the New Orleans that Katrina left behind." Not gonna read it. Who has time?

I spent the weekend with friends and it was wonderful. Some friends were from Pre-Katrina but many were not. One of our newer friends told us his story. He wasn't living in New Orleans when Katrina struck, but was visiting with his girlfriend. He was lucky they were staying with some of her relatives, because he was able to evacuate with them, instead being stuck in a hotel and then loaded on to a bus bound to who knows where. Even after that he chose to move here.

When I shared the Chris Rose post on Facebook, a friend from Miami commented "Remember Hurricane Andrew here in Miami? Eventually it just becomes a 1 hour special on the Weather Channel." I do remember. It was a huge storm. I had been in south Florida visiting family and left just before Andrew hit. I had just graduated from FSU and was planning to move to New Orleans. My friend who was also moving and I wondered what was going to happen in Louisiana. Would we still have a place to move to? Thankfully we did. I never evacuated all the years I lived in Florida (I was born there). But I've evacuated more time than I can remember from New Orleans. We were in Houston when Rita hit and we were puzzled by how badly everyone was freaking out. Houston's pretty well inland and above sea level. We only had 1/4 tank of gas and couldn't leave even if we wanted to because all the gas stations sold out of gas 2 days before. The city shut down and looting began before the storm arrived. We hunkered down in the 2 story house we were staying in and never even lost power. Strange times.

Tomorrow marks 4 years since Hurricane Katrina made land fall. I’ve struggled thinking about what to do to mark the occasion, like I did for last week’s anniversary of my mother’s death (Needless to say, August, especially this last week, is particularly emotional for me.). I have a friend’s baby shower to go to. I remember thinking when I got the invitation, “Are they crazy? Do they know what day that is?” But maybe they did it on purpose to symbolize rebirth and renewal; life must go one. I imagine anyone who lived here 4 years ago must have August 29th burned in to their memory, unless they are in very deep denial. I’m glad it falls on a Saturday this year. It was odd the last 3 years to go to the office and work, just like it was any other day. But it wasn’t. Sure there are bell-ringings, plaque dedications and wreath layings across the city, but I couldn’t connect with that. The other day, a friend who had surgery a few months ago proclaimed that she was finally ready to go out and wanted to go to Rock ‘n’ Bowl. I pulled up the music calendar and saw that Kermit Ruffins was playing Saturday. Perfect.

After bouncing around from house to house to house in Baton Rouge the first few weeks of September 2005, we decided to head to Houston. We weren’t the only ones, many of our neighbors ended up there, as did Kermit Ruffins. He wrangled a weekly gig at a Jazz Club downtown and it when he played, it would be overrun by New Orleanians. We got there early and while waiting for friends and neighbors to arrive, got a drink and noticed a couple sitting across the room. The guy was wearing a huge gold Saints Jersey and Saints baseball cap and we took the table next to them. Turned out the women worked at my friend’s gallery in the quarter and they lived in Gentilly. When Kermit took the stage I started crying, wondering when I would be able to go back home and what would I be going home to. It felt good to have other New Orleanians around who understood what you were going through and could talk about it. I hugged neighbors I wouldn’t normally hug and let Kermit’s music and voice wash over me. The crowd stood around listening to the music, but when he broke out into “We are Family” everyone cut loose, dancing and singing along.