There She Blows
This morning The Husband told me about a news clip where an expert on levees said that there is no point in rebuilding New Orleans since it will be underwater in ninety years. There are arguments for and against this point. The bottom line is that New Orleans is my home and the commercial and tourist districts need very little rebuilding. As I drove around this morning I realized that what I am seeing is not what is being broadcasted around the world. I can drive you for miles around the city and all you will see are fallen trees and limb debris. There will be no flood lines and no dogs floating down the street. In fact there are fewer stray animals in the city than before the storm and we have animal rescue groups to thank for that (more about this later).
In order to get myself to leave the house daily, I have to focus on how great New Orleans is going to be. I have to remind myself that this city is the safest it has been for as long as I have lived here. I look at all of the restaurants and stores that have reopened and applaud as new ones open daily. There are still so many beautiful houses to be gawked at and Audubon Park is totally clear of any debris. The Zoo, The Farmer’s Market and Cafe Du Monde are all open and there are still shadows cast by the oaks on St. Charles Avenue at midday. I see kids and people out jogging and walking their dogs. THIS is what I see.
I have noticed that people who no longer live in New Orleans see an entirely different city when they come to retrieve their stuff. They see a home that they can no longer return to. They see flood lines and piles of furniture outside of homes. They see X’s on everyone’s door with coded numbers depicting the number of casualties. My favorite are the spray painted narratives left by the animal rescue crews that mar the walls of otherwise pristine, undamaged homes: “TWO DOGS FOUND UNDER PORCH IN BACKYARD 9/26 ONE POSSIBLE DEAD CAT CALL 555-4342 FOR INFO GOD BLESS”. There are so many favorite restaurants still closed as well as our Whole Foods. The worst of it are the empty streets. The streets where no one is living because they have nothing to return to. This is what THEY see, those that can’t come back. They have to see it this way or they wouldn’t be able to leave.
I often want to scream when I see a television show, testimonial or e-mail stating that it’s all for naught, that there is nothing left. There is something left. There are families and traditions. There are red beans on Mondays and there will be bonfires Christmas Eve.
One of the hardest parts about living here right now is co-mingling with all of the people who have moved here after the storm. Like every population, most people are great and there are a small number of assholes. Usually these assholes come in the shape of contractors who ride around in pickup trucks with out of state plates, ignore traffic rules and park on medians and sidewalks. So, when a mini van with New York plates passed me on the right not once but TWICE today on a one lane stretch of road, I kind of lost it. Actually, that’s an understatement. I “kind of lost it” the first time they passed me and had to stop in order not to hit a line of parked cars. They were obviously in a hurry to pass the traffic on St. Charles. It was then that I rolled down my window and yelled, “what the hell are you doing?” and gave them and unfriendly hand gesture. You could say that I had a total meltdown at a stop light (still one lane) when they pulled up next to me to pass when the light turned green.
That was when I got out of my car and with a large number of explicatives told them to stop driving like cowboys and to obey the traffic laws of my city. The white haired hippie lady in the drivers seat denied driving like a cowboy and related to me that they were down here helping out and that I need to be nicer to people. I then effectively relayed to her my disappointment in her existence, got back in my car and drove home. The words painted on the side of the mini van? Animal Rescue.
When I pulled into my driveway I started to cry and laugh hysterically all at the same time. I cried because I as raised better than to jump out of my car and yell at at strangers. I cried because I of all people was picking fights with someone who has probably seen more dead pets in the past three months than anyone should have to - ever. I cried because there was no one other than The Husband that could relate to me because they’ve all moved away. But mostly I just laughed.
I later did find a recent evacuee to commiserate with. She hates the animal people more than I do. She ranted about breaking windows to rescue gerbils and used the word “fascist” a lot.
At least I’ve gotten it out of my system and I most likely will not lose my mind again anytime soon. I seem to be on a six month cycle. Two things happened to me today that were very successful. I took Addy to her three month appointment and she measured in at the 97th percentile for height and weight. I also had a very nice meeting with our insurance adjuster who seemed to over inflate my damage estimates.
We're on our way back.
In order to get myself to leave the house daily, I have to focus on how great New Orleans is going to be. I have to remind myself that this city is the safest it has been for as long as I have lived here. I look at all of the restaurants and stores that have reopened and applaud as new ones open daily. There are still so many beautiful houses to be gawked at and Audubon Park is totally clear of any debris. The Zoo, The Farmer’s Market and Cafe Du Monde are all open and there are still shadows cast by the oaks on St. Charles Avenue at midday. I see kids and people out jogging and walking their dogs. THIS is what I see.
I have noticed that people who no longer live in New Orleans see an entirely different city when they come to retrieve their stuff. They see a home that they can no longer return to. They see flood lines and piles of furniture outside of homes. They see X’s on everyone’s door with coded numbers depicting the number of casualties. My favorite are the spray painted narratives left by the animal rescue crews that mar the walls of otherwise pristine, undamaged homes: “TWO DOGS FOUND UNDER PORCH IN BACKYARD 9/26 ONE POSSIBLE DEAD CAT CALL 555-4342 FOR INFO GOD BLESS”. There are so many favorite restaurants still closed as well as our Whole Foods. The worst of it are the empty streets. The streets where no one is living because they have nothing to return to. This is what THEY see, those that can’t come back. They have to see it this way or they wouldn’t be able to leave.
I often want to scream when I see a television show, testimonial or e-mail stating that it’s all for naught, that there is nothing left. There is something left. There are families and traditions. There are red beans on Mondays and there will be bonfires Christmas Eve.
One of the hardest parts about living here right now is co-mingling with all of the people who have moved here after the storm. Like every population, most people are great and there are a small number of assholes. Usually these assholes come in the shape of contractors who ride around in pickup trucks with out of state plates, ignore traffic rules and park on medians and sidewalks. So, when a mini van with New York plates passed me on the right not once but TWICE today on a one lane stretch of road, I kind of lost it. Actually, that’s an understatement. I “kind of lost it” the first time they passed me and had to stop in order not to hit a line of parked cars. They were obviously in a hurry to pass the traffic on St. Charles. It was then that I rolled down my window and yelled, “what the hell are you doing?” and gave them and unfriendly hand gesture. You could say that I had a total meltdown at a stop light (still one lane) when they pulled up next to me to pass when the light turned green.
That was when I got out of my car and with a large number of explicatives told them to stop driving like cowboys and to obey the traffic laws of my city. The white haired hippie lady in the drivers seat denied driving like a cowboy and related to me that they were down here helping out and that I need to be nicer to people. I then effectively relayed to her my disappointment in her existence, got back in my car and drove home. The words painted on the side of the mini van? Animal Rescue.
When I pulled into my driveway I started to cry and laugh hysterically all at the same time. I cried because I as raised better than to jump out of my car and yell at at strangers. I cried because I of all people was picking fights with someone who has probably seen more dead pets in the past three months than anyone should have to - ever. I cried because there was no one other than The Husband that could relate to me because they’ve all moved away. But mostly I just laughed.
I later did find a recent evacuee to commiserate with. She hates the animal people more than I do. She ranted about breaking windows to rescue gerbils and used the word “fascist” a lot.
At least I’ve gotten it out of my system and I most likely will not lose my mind again anytime soon. I seem to be on a six month cycle. Two things happened to me today that were very successful. I took Addy to her three month appointment and she measured in at the 97th percentile for height and weight. I also had a very nice meeting with our insurance adjuster who seemed to over inflate my damage estimates.
We're on our way back.
3 Comments:
Your posts make me mopey and sad. I am sorry I had to leave the city and leave you guys. And then the posts crack me up. Thank you for adding to my already unstable mental state of mind.
But if this continues I will have send those fascists down to your house to rescue the cats. And the gerbils. And maybe The Husband.
Those god damn fascists.
God Bless!!
I guess saying "mental state of mind" is redundant.
Whatever. There was a f---ing hurricane.
No, God bless you, Sister Tex. You can't blame me for making you crazy though.
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