Whipping Okra

Thursday night I was in Jackson, MS spending a last night there with my roommate Jeff, his family and the puppies. Jeff and I had spent most of the week going back and forth from New Orleans. The first day there was very difficult and depressing. On the second day we did quite a bit of driving around and "sightseeing" as it were. If I had thought the first day was bad, the second day was even worse. In describing the scene I can only say that it looks like a movie set, a film about the apocalypse except it goes on for miles and miles. Uptown is a mass of rubbish, the massively damaged streetcar lines and the endless din of tree removal trucks. Traveling towards the lake you see nothing but destruction, street after street of flooded out cars and abandoned houses. The giant spray painted X from various agencies dot most every door, a reminder of the search for life and then the search for death. My friend Michael had told me about the marks and that "DB" was marked when they found a body. Jeff mentioned seeing several of them but I didn't see them until the next day when we drove through Lakeview. We were actually about a 10th of a mile from the main breech on the 17th street canal. The entire area is a sickening brownish gray color and all the vegetation is utterly dead. Trees have been piled up for removal, huge 50ft high towers of dead trees. Looking at the houses as you pass is like reading a topographical map; the water lines portraying the difference in elevation. It was on our way to the Lakeview area on Orleans that I saw a business with the large X and the number 10 in the lower quadrant. I convinced myself that it was a messy 0 or that we had just driven by it too quickly for me to get a proper look. Somehow I think that I saw it correctly the first time and the instant queasiness returns every time I think back to that moment.

At the lakefront you see the burned out remains of the yacht club and the stacked up boatyard, sailboats that are heaped together, a sea of masts going all different directions. There are boats all around this area, some that came to rest in roadways have been towed to the side of the street, others sit on their sides in yards. One lone sailboat was trapped on the rocks at the Point by the yacht club. The best way to see it is to stand on top of the sea wall and survey the area. I was standing there and then turned around to see the area behind the wall, and though I hate to overuse the word surreal, that is the only word to describe the view. Beautiful homes are on the other side of the sea wall, undamaged. You see manicured landscapes and children playing with the faint noise of distant lawnmowers tending to these untouched places.

While visiting I did get to see several people that I had not seen since this whole adventure began. I also saw some people that I prefer to have included themselves in the 37% of New Orleans that won't be returning. While I thought I would be working at least one night while I was there it didn't pan out and so I was free both nights to go out and have some booze. Two of my friends, Penny and Joel, drove down from the north shore on Tuesday so we could all get together. Blake D. Is back behind the bar at Good Friends, though the upstairs isn't open. Jerry F. Is at GF's too. Aletha's loud ass is back at Lafittes (no insult intended, I love Aletha dearly but damn you can hear that woman a block away). I had heard in the aftermath of the storm that Aletha and her partner Mac had been separated and reunited so it was good to see both of them while I was there. Cookie, Muzzy, TQ, David Mac and Allen were all behind the bar at the pub at one point of another. Monday afternoon Lisa came in but she isn't back to work yet. Day manager Terri was there every day too, though he told me that he is leaving, going back to fighting and off soon on a whirl wind world tour. I ran into Mark Scovern every day it seems and Tuesday night I got to spend some quality time with my boss (and friend) Blake. That was very emotional for both of us, I think we both cried by the time I went home. Freddy and Vicky are both back in the office trying to get things sorted out. I'm sure Jonathan was there. I never saw him...

On a Side Note....

I have heard that there may be some big changes at the pub soon.

Since I'm not privy to those things I'll have to wait.

I'll keep you posted (get it, posted) as things develop...

And now back to my entry...

Only the downstairs is open right now and the city is enforcing a curfew, though the time on it seems to change daily. When I was in town it was midnite so everyone had to be closed by 11:30 to give folks a chance to get home. Things at the pub were slow when I was there, though everyone reported that the previous weekend was very busy. Oz is still closed for "remodeling" since they did receive some damage from a leaky roof. Napoleons itch was back up and running. It's hit or miss with most businesses. The quarter master is open but the deli part isn't. Verti Mart is open and so is Mattassas grocery. Tropical Isle is open and upon seeing a group of them I realized that I almost missed idiot drunken tourists chugging down those horrific hand grenade drinks.

One thing I noticed, which I expected, was the t-shirts shops hawking "I survived Katrina" t-shirts. Another was the more political and less popular "Where is FEMA" with the slogan underneath that said Federal Employees Missing Again. It didn't make much sense but then I was so sickened by the Katrina shirts that I didn't have time to concentrate on the inner though process of the creators. It's just reprehensible to sell these shirts. I am a firm believer in the idea that nothing can't be joked about but the idea of making (or god forbid wearing) a shirt proclaiming you survived somewhat that a thousand or so other people DIDN'T survive is just disgusting. I admit my own hypocrisy in loving t-shirthell.com's shirt "123 out of 124 high school students agree...VIVA ARUBA" and went ape-shit for their shirt with a picture of the pope and the tag line 'Only the good die young..." But I'm going for a point here so work with me. Besides, there is a difference between fodder for jokes and gloating about your own survival. If the Katrina shirts are the level of merchandising we're going for then why not just go whole hog and prints shirts with slogans like "I survived breast cancer, but my tits didn't" "I Outlived Juvenile Diabetes" or maybe a baby doll one for black girls that say "I wanted to be a man until I found out about Sickle Cell." Why not go international and travel the world right next to the red cross, mobil shirt press in a travel bag, disaster to disaster, hawking the triumph of survival to those who were able to reach high ground. You sell shirts that say "I survived spring break (as long as you stay out of Aruba) but not surviving natural disasters.

I had taken my sisters video camera along to film some of the damaged areas and was showing the footage to Jeff's parents house that last night in Jackson. His father told me about the false blooming cycle that is happening in hurricane affected areas. Trees and plants are sprouting their seeds in order to re-populate themselves because they think they are dying. He referred to it as "Whipping Okra," the process of damaging an Okra plant to encourage it's more plentiful production. The phrase stuck in my mind and seems to sum up my feelings about New Orleans right now. Her residents seem to be blooming falsely, assuring everyone and perhaps even convincing themselves that New Orleans will return to it's former self or perhaps, even better! While I don't want to be a negative nancy or a Debbie Downer, this false bloom may be fruitless. The catch 22 of the situation is that people don't want to return unless there are services for them and the services can't resume until there are people there. Many people are not returning. I have spoken to very few friends with are definitely planning to return for good. While I see the point of blooming and invigorating the city and while I do plan to return by the end of the year, I can't help but doubt this seedling city will need more than hand grenades and boas to blossom.