One Friday I left my office
fully expecting to return on Monday, This didn't happen,
I sat on my front porch fishing instead. It may not seem odd
to you if you live on a bayou or river, but I live in
New Orleans
and Sunday night Katrina slammed into the Crescent
City. Monday morning the levees broke and the
city flooded. So much for going to work, I never saw my office
again. Moreover the house that I spent 2 years renovating and
lived in for only two months became uninhabitable. The
following Tuesday I was picked up by boat and spent the next
week or so helping rescue peope, most of the responders were
from other states and did not know the neighborhoods and I
was one of the few natives foolish enough to
stay.
I was
transported to the part of I-10 that wasn't flooded
(causeway for anyone who knows). From there I rode in an
Army truck to a bus and then to a refugee camp in Thibodaux
(90 miles SW of New Orleans) where I spent a couple of days
wondering how to get in touch with my family, wondering if
they knew if I made it out alive. Thursday my ex-wife, Helen,
walked into the shelter, she had found where I was and came to
get me. Helen truly looked like a vision from heaven. I was
very thankful for her being there and was sorry that I screwed
things up so bad between us, but that is another story. So I
spent a week on her sofa watching news feeds, seeing the city
I love so much disintegrate into anarchy.
There was so much
damage to the infrastructure that any communication was
impossible. Most of the repeater towers in south
Louisiana were
knocked down or damaged and the few left were so overloaded
use of a cell phone was virtually impossible. It has been
over a week since I had any contact with my wife and kids,
they don't know if I'm dead or alive. The city was completely
flooded and stayed that way for about a month. I never could
move back into my house, most of the insurance money was used
to pay off the mortgage, which left little for repairs. It was
subsequently torn down; in fact in the block I lived on only 3
of the 7 houses are left standing.
Three years
later I have nightmares and am very sad there is no home
to go to. They say home is where the heart is, I left mine in
New Orleans. I understand many of the people who
returned are building their lives back up. I know that my
beloved city will, in time, be restored to its former glory.
However I have trouble even going back to visit relatives.
When I see so many empty lots where houses once stood I
remember how it was before this catastrophe; kids playing in
their yards, neighbors talking, lush gardens, people waving to
each other in a friendly manner and so on. It is at this point
I start to break down and have flashes in my mind of helping
people off the roofs of houses that are no longer there,
looking at streets I used to jog on, or walk my dog under 10
feet of water, the ensuing chaos and the people who
needlessly lost their lives.
Some days I
look in the mirror and it reflects only a shell of the man I
once was and on others life goes on and the wounds are
slowly healing. I currently live in Miami and maybe
one day I'll be able to go back, until then life on Miami
Beach is not so bad, still isn't home though.
(Unedited) (To be continued)
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