Don't Miss the Sights of New Orleans!

(below are two journal entries from N.O.)

535pm 3.13.6

New Orleans is Devastated. Whole communities destroyed, everywhere tent cities, trailer parks and refugee camps. N.O.L.A. is destroyed.

Orange and black spray paint testify, NOPD, No Entry, Unsafe. 25 fish, 1 Crab, Dead Dog. Dead. The last is the worst. Dead. No longer animal life searched out by the SPCA… human. A simple word spray painted with a shivering hand. How can this be? D-E-A- my God! D.

How can any one person experience this whole. I’ve seen parts I’ve seen waterlines from 3 feet to over a roof… houses on houses. Houses on cars. Four houses from different blocks now one. Now sharing walls. Red fading into wood and white trim into blue; fading into wood and white trim, into pink; fading into wood and white trim, into pistachio. Chunks of metal formerly known by families as vans. Warehouses flattened. Black mold swarming white sheet rock. Refrigerators that must be duct tapped and sealed. DON’T OPEN THEM –EVER.

Everything Out. Down to the studs. All walls except exterior – out. Axes, sledgehammers, crowbars and boots. Kicking them in can be easiest… except on plaster and slats. Push on through to the other side, warn them first, fogged goggles and change your mask frequently. Drink water and breath fresh air then look next door and realize you’re surrounded.

A dead city. With pockets of life. Our camp is luxury – a better bed than my dorm, maybe not by looks, but by comfort. Better food and warm showers, generators, AC and flushing toilets. Most people have water now… maybe not power but water. Few street lights work from damage or odd traffic patterns, they now flash Red-Red – Red. Welcome to NOLA.

1146pm
We drove through the 9^th ward looking at the devastation of blocks and blocks of neighborhood. Houses in the middle of roads, cars flipped on top of others. Sheer unadulterated devastation. “Wherever you are.” “What?” “Oh?” I realized no one would understand that phrase. “I was thinking about a major disaster and wondering ‘where do you start?’ It’s overwhelming. But ‘Where do you start?’ wherever you are.” You have to. You pick up the sledgehammer, the broom. You pickup the body bags, the fridges. You pickup the rubble that obstructs your path. You pick it up. You pick up your pen and write a check. Where do you start? Wherever you are.