I'm Still Not There

Harry Shearer does a good job of discussing the strange Washington Post story on Katrina evacuees, and how it covers the effects of rats and stale air more than massive levee failure.

Any roundup article on New Orleans residents not back yet is challenging because each journey took its own unique turn over the years. We're like snowflakes that way. Angry, homesick snowflakes.

I remember when text messages were coming in from friends scattered across the country. You couldn't get a call out yet, but slowly everyone figured out that texting worked. Some sent advice on how to get out of the city, as neighboring Gretna was holding evacuees at bay with guns and helicopters when they tried to walk over the bridge to safety.

When it comes to guns and helicopters, New Orleans' Mayor Ray Nagin has jumped the shark this month, but I heard his WWL interview on the radio while the city was still flooded and we were driving away. It could help explain the post traumatic stress disorder. Nagin was talking to Garland Robinette, responding to the perception that a proper request for federal help had not been filed, and he said:

Well, did the tsunami victims request? Did it go through a formal process to request? You know, did the Iraqi people request that we go in there? Did they ask us to go in there? What is more important? . . . Now, you mean to tell me that a place where most of your oil is coming through, a place that is so unique when you mention New Orleans anywhere around the world, everybody's eyes light up -- you mean to tell me that a place where you probably have thousands of people that have died and thousands more that are dying every day, that we can't figure out a way to authorize the resources that we need? Come on, man. . . . I don't want to see anybody do anymore goddamn press conferences. Put a moratorium on press conferences. Don't do another press conference until the resources are in this city.

These were the moments that made your own story feel so small. Driving cross country for months, we finally settled near family and my husband founded the grass roots nonprofit, New Orleans Musicians Relief Fund. I stayed away the first two years to be with my father as his mind slipped away. Out of solidarity, my mother is now mad as a hatter.

But thanks to the kindness of a friend who has let extended visits almost turn into living in his house, I return all the time. In New Orleans, you hear three refrains when old friends meet: "How did you make out;" "Did you get water," and "Whenya coming back."

It's like a mantra, and contrary to the Washington Post, I'm not kept away by stale air, giant rats or even nutria (orange toothed rodents who eat wetlands almost as much as oil companies).

I'm in the Midwest for my mother, while she still knows who I am. But here's the refrain I can hear whistling through the wind farms on snowy days:

Whenya coming back, whenya coming back whenya coming back, when

Follow Karen Dalton-Beninato on Twitter: www.twitter.com/kbeninato

Comments

[luziannagirl]

Whenya comin back! What a great title for a song. Or, "How much water y'all got?"

Whenever we see something featuring any New Orleans structure, as in the current "This Old House" PBS TV series, that's one of the first things we verbalize. "Wonder how much water that place took on? "

It's my sense that sooner or later, and regardless of levee construction, the powers that be are going to have to look at elevating all structures except those already so, above the Katrina high water mark, and decreeing that no one is allowed to dwell in the sacrificial first floors. If that had been the case in Katrina, the loss would still have been great but would have been almost entirely property, rather than lives. Also, irreplaceable household belongings not stored on the ground level would have been safe, as would wallboard, fixtures, and interior parts of countless homes so damaged as to have been discarded in the "gutting".

We moved away from New Orleans yrs ago, but if you'd told me then my precious family photos and china and various keepsakes wouldn't be safe from the "big one" unless we put them up in the attic (our old home, elevated only a paltry 3 ft took on at least 2-3 ft of water)...I think maybe we might have moved away even sooner.

My sense is that the knowledge the levees are still not up to snuff, and may not be anytime soon no matter how much lead the Corps gets out of their butts, and no matter how well the city is run in the meantime, if another Katrina comes it's likely deja vu all over again, is probably the single biggest drawback to the city's recovery.

[doctorj2u]

Any New Orleanian knows what you mean. I know many will come back when they can. My heart breaks for the elderly that are basically "stuck" in a foreign world away from home , like Carnival Time Al Johnson. You and I both know that the stress alone will kill them. Thank you for your efforts to help these musicians come home where they belong and are loved.

[KarenDaltonBeninato]

You're so right about the heartbreak Dr. J. We saw Carnival Time Al Johnson at South by Southwest two years ago and got a cost of living grant to him. He wanted to hold up the check for a publicity photo, but as we were at someone else's bash it didn't seem like the thing to do. Thank god for Habitat, Make it Right, Global Green and now Barnes & Noble guy in Gentilly building homes. -

KDB

[SCMagnolia]

Whenya get back is whenya should. New Orleans will always be inya! Though not Louisiana born, nor bred, I fell in love with your city at first, "volunteer gut" so I can only imagine how you feel. I'll keep you and your mominem in my prayers.

[KarenDaltonBeninato]

What a kind thing to say, SCMagnolia. Thanks aren't enough, but thank you for helping rebuild the city.