Katrina Continued

Katrina. Variant short form of Katherine (Greek) "pure." For the residents of the Big Easy, pure hell.

Being displaced from the only homes many of them have known, registering their children in out of state schools, being called "refugees" in their own United States of America, and the New Orleans Saints playing their home games on Texas turf is pure anathema. But they are told it could be worse.

My family, by the grace of God, was able to evacuate. All present and accounted for. Their future is uncertain. God has stirred up the nest in a major way.

My mother and her sisters have never been separated this long. My Dad says he will rebuild. My brother is uncertain about the future of his job as an appliance store manager. And these are just three of 1.3 million residents. Who will rebuild the Big Easy and who will want to?

The people of New Orleans are a resilient and stubborn bunch. They do no let go of tradition easily. After all, there are rumors that this disaster called Katrina will not stop Mardi Gras from happening next year. And I am quite certain that just as a recipe book, tattered as it may be, is passed from generation to generation, the recipe book to rebuild New Orleans remains. Faith, hope, love, and togetherness will rebuild the city; not blame, fingerpointing, and bickering. And when the city is rebuilt, it will return to its glory as the most unique city in the United States.

As for me, I remain a not so casual observer of these events. I pray daily for all of the people who have lost so much, including their lives, to the disaster known as Katrina. The forces of nature remind us of the fragility of the small lives we lead. Spend your time in this life trying to make a difference. Use the talents God has given you to make that difference. Touch as many peoples lives as you can. And always proceed in His honor and glory.

Katrina

Hurricane. Name Game. Came. Claim. Who's to Blame? Katrina was here and is gone but will never leave us. The "City that Care Forgot" and its people are going through an incomprehensible nightmare. The Nation watches in utter disbelief. And so do I.

I was born in New Orleans but raised in Metairie. My mother and father had the new middle class suburban life. They built their house from the ground up and raised their four children there. Our houses were close, but our neighbors were closer. We played "Kick the Can" with the neighbor kids, and ran from the Mosquito Control trucks. We went to the canals [drainage canals that are exposed] and watched snakes, rats, raccoons, turtles and nutria living on the banks. We rode our bikes to Lake Ponchartrain and stood on its shore surveying its majesty. On Friday nights, my Dad would take us to the lakefront to Fitzgerald's for the best seafood in town. We attended catechism at our parish church, St. Clement of Rome. We never really worried about hurricanes; the big ones never hit New Orleans.

I attended the Holy Cross School, one of the oldest high schools in the area and the first Brothers of Holy Cross School in the United States. You may be familiar with the Brothers of Holy Cross; they are the order responsible for the creation of the inimitable "Fighting Irish" of Notre Dame. This was my first exposure to the "Ninth Ward". This is an area bordered by the Industrial Canal, which empties into the Mississippi River. It was also during my high school years that I got my first adult exposure to the French Quarter and Bourbon Street.

I attended the University of New Orleans and received my Bachelors Degrees in History and Political Science. I left the Crescent City in 1989 to move to Michigan to attend the Thomas M. Cooley Law School. I left New Orleans, but New Orleans never left me--the culture, the food, the music, the attitude. I have always carried a piece of it with me [including a small bit of the accent, which has since been blended with an East Coast Timbre and a Midwest Nasal Twang].

I always kept in close contact with my parents and my siblings. When I heard that Katrina was coming and that it was the Storm of the Century, I worried for their safety. There was a mad rush to collect everyone and whatever you could carry and get out as fast as you could. My mother and father were able to evacuate with my youngest sister and her family to Houston, Texas. My older sister and her family were able to evacuate to Northern Mississippi. For days, we did not know what happened to my older brother. All we could do was pray that he got out and that God spared his family.

I watched the Weather Channel and all of the National News Channels without reprieve. Then, it hit! And then we could not contact each other. All cell phone service was lost. For hours. Waiting. Wondering if everyone was alright. Praying. The News Media painted the worst picture possible. Loss of power. Water flooding the entire city. Thousands of people are now refugees in their home town. The City that brought to the world Jazz, "Mardi Gras", "The Sugar Bowl", and "The Sazerac", was brought to its knees.

First Posting

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