No one wanted to leave Craig and his crew short nor to leave them with all the cleanup, so we all threw ourselves into the day's tasks and the following cleanup. A quick stop to the stadium for showers and we were off to New Orleans by 2:00. It was about a 90 minute drive with 5 folks in 3 cars. The general plan was to gather at a visitors center, get some maps and plan out our visit. One of the central ideas was to witness the lower 9th ward. After seeing the state of East Biloxi, we were all curious to see how it may be different or the same.
As we drove over we saw a number of different birds. The terns and ibises were plentiful all along the way. I hadn't realized that Lake Pontchartrain was as massive as it is until we began driving over it. I later looked at the map and saw how we barely saw a sixth of its size!
Never having been to NOLA before, there was little for me to compare. What is "normal" and what is the result of this disaster? Having witnessed this small area in Mississippi, I was braced for what I'd find in New Orleans. Or at least, I thought I was. Coming into downtown on the 10, there were signs of reconstruction and there were certainly plenty of damaged buildings, but it wasn't overwhelming. It can be misleading to see East Biloxi and that part of Louisiana because, a little more than 2 and a half years later, there is a semblance of normalcy. Streets and highways are clear. Traffic flows in, out and around. People are walking about, meeting and talking. Stores are open and folks eat out at restaurants.
Then we drove down into the 9th ward.
I noticed the destroyed buildings along the main road that we took, and a number of them were being worked on, had been repainted vibrant colors, or were torn down. There were so, so many sites with the markings from the rescue searches done following Katrina's fury. And then we took a few circles around the side blocks. It was breath-stealing.
Concrete slabs of one-time driveways leading only to overgrown plots of 2 feet of overgrown weeds. Partial walls and steps leading to nothing.
Empty shells of what were homes, now abandoned. Windows blown open with the blinds swinging in the stale breeze showed glimpses of trashed rooms. All abandoned.
Lot after lot after lot.
So many houses with red "X's" that were obviously some official notification of occupancy - or denial thereof.
A brick church crumbled with the spray painted directive to contact a certain bishop; presumably to tell him about the state of his flock.
A planetarium, gutted. Derelict and half-standing structures with "For Sale" signs in the overgrown front lawns.
And then a yard of RV trailers. Rows and rows of them. I can imagine camping comfortably in one for a week or maybe a bit more. But to live there? For nearly three years!?!?
I have related my experience of the Northridge earthquake back in 1994 to many of the folks here on the trip. It was a terrifying experience and it took a bit of time to get things back to a semblance of normal. I was attending Cal State Northridge at the time, and we were still in trailers and temporary buildings for classes when I graduated in 1996/97. Sure, we slept outside in the courtyard of the apartment building for more than a week with all of our neighbors while waiting to find out if it was safe to live in our building, but the inspectors came quickly and we had our home and our belongings.
It's nearly three years later and these people don't have their homes!
There were some very few homes being rebuilt. A few were being repaired. But not many.
How is it that these people - our neighbors- are so invisible? How can this be yesterday's news?!??
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