The drive into New Orleans on Friday was completely uneventful – no blown tires, no untoward traffic jams, and not a single military convoy. There are fewer pictures from this trip as compared to the last time owing to a tight schedule. D and I were able to walk through the city from the Garden District, through downtown, and into the French Quarter (where I hugged and kissed my fellow Krewe de C.R.A.P.pers) without any trouble. As we walked by familiar spots all the way from our neighborhood to the Quarter, I kept joking, “It’s hard to tell the pre-Katrina and post-Katrina messes apart.” Our city is always in a state of Flux-Disrepair-Revitalization-Chaos. Welcome back to New Orleans. (See pictures from this trip here and here-placeholder.)
Leaving town for the airport today, D and I tuned to WWNO, University of New Orleans’ radio station, now broadcasting out of Atlanta. What did we chance upon but a rebroadcast of portions of Prairie Home Companion in New Orleans from 2002 and 2004. Especially poignant as downtown faded into a cutout against the greying sky were Geoff Muldaur and his band performing Please Send Me Someone To Love and, one of my favorites, Walking To New Orleans.
I’ve got my suitcase in my hand
Now ain’t that a shame
I’m leaving here today
Yes, I’m going back home to stay
Yes, I’m walking to New Orleans
Isn’t it ironic that the song was penned by a New Orleanian who was presumed dead in his Lower Ninth Ward home after the storm hit and rescued off his roof three days later and who now lives in a local hotel room waiting to occupy a home? At least, the gold record for this particular song survived and was salvaged, while a lot of his memorabilia were lost.
“I don’t know what to do, move somewhere else or something,” said Fats Domino when interviewed by Reuters for the above article. “But I like it down here.”
That seems to be the main sentiment around town as homes continue to be assessed by insurance adjusters and bulldozing/rebuilding begins in earnest. The home of a couple of our Lakeview friends is being bulldozed while they look for a new home, meanwhile bouncing from one friend’s home to another. Their perspective: Life is hard, but where else would they go? Other lucky ones with contractors and roofers are done resuscitating their properties. The main influx of people into New Orleans seems to center around December and January, as businesses and schools look to reestablish themselves in town by the new year or Carnival season.
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With friends and neighbors coming back or deciding to move away permanently, fewer residents appear shell-shocked and are coming to terms with Reality As We Know It In New Orleans, and life returns somewhat to normal. There are still miles and miles to go in terms of economy and everyday living, though.
While stores reopen and sales increase, business may have to shrink (temporarily or permanently) in order to address the new smaller customer base. Although previous residents and newcomers come in and stay, it is hard to predict the final tally when all is said and done. When will that balance be achieved? When can we start to call life normal again and start to reassign crucial gauges? Living in New Orleans is going to be a whole new ballgame with updated requirements – this frontier is simultaneously scary and exciting. And, in my mind, it is a great time to be an American and one who lives in New Orleans. We’ll give it our best, and see what happens. As neighbor Scott said, “We won’t be bigger, but we are working towards better.” New Orleans will most probably be a smaller town, but hopefully one adorned with fewer problems than it had before and accountability and with transparency as new standards for operation. Then, we won’t end up in post-hurricane situations in which the Corps tells us that the pilings go down 7 feet farther than they really do, and we fall for it.
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Holland and its network of levees is in the local news a lot (part 1 of a nola.com trilogy on this topic). Suddenly, Dutch this and Holland that are popular phrases. Louisiana can stand to take a lesson from this book. 2000 died in a 1953 storm surge that hit the town of Ouwerkerk in the Netherlands – that’s approximately 1000 more than those who met their deaths at the hands of Katrina and its fallout. If the Dutch can retaliate against such a tragedy with a comprehensive surge management method, so can we. This is our Netherlands almost 50 years later; if we cannot provide the cutting edge for our coastland, what good are we? What good is the export of our democracy and freedom without the application of our first-world advancement in our own nation? Are we saying that, in the long run, an investment in Middle Eastern foreign policy and at such high costs is worth the sacrifice of the protection of portions of our own country? What will be left to protect?
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The November 2005 issue of Scientific American reads along the same lines, pointing to past mistakes and urging Louisiana and the federal government to follow the Dutch example. Along with Mark Fischetti’s prescient 2001 article on the same subject (Drowning New Orleans), an interesting find in this month’s paper issue is that Houston is subsiding at a faster rate than NO, due to decreasing sediment pore pressure as a result of increased water and hydrocarbon extraction. Across the nation, San Jose is officially below sea level and at threat are New York and the Florida Everglades.
Long term and then, Long Term. How are we going to address these concerns in the upcoming decades of increased groundwater extraction, decreased pore pressure and consequent compaction, and poorer quality of life with growing costs? What kind of a country are we preparing ourselves for?
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This brings us to the kind of person required for the new New Orleans. A conscientious human, willing to fight for the frontier with strength and an unwavering commitment to rebuilding. This doesn’t mean something sentimental. New New Orleans requires awareness, smartness, logical thinking and, above all, a readiness to help thy neighbor. Only with that sort of community spirit can our city come back. Still, people throw litter on the streets – a man in a ReNew Orleans tshirt threw his still-lit cigarette butt onto Royal St. in the Quarter. Today’s rain created a small river out of our street because homeowners haven’t come out to rake and remove leaves from their driveways and sidewalks. The leaves that go in the drain are a strain on the system and cause it to be less effective.
As a gentleman walked by wearing a Saints hat and a Water Meter t-shirt, my friend, Sandy, remarked, “Look at us. We New Orleanians are so self-involved.” Yes, we pride ourselves on being quirky and festive and Different From The Rest Of The Nation. Even through gutting our homes and cleaning out our stinky refrigerators, we wear our beads, have a daiquiri handy, and dance to zydeco. We hold musical Gut Fests for our neighborhoods. Now is the time to translate that unique personality into being truly selfish and rebuilding our city well. That will be our new identity. We will have weathered the storm.
I’ve got no time for talking
I’ve got to keep on walking
New Orleans is my home
That’s the reason why I’m goin’
Yes, I’m walking to New Orleans
