Two years after Katrina there was, at last, time for reflection. What had become of the can-do nation that had built the Panama Canal and put men on the moon and now could not see its way to heaping dirt high enough to defend a major coastal asset like New Orleans?*
My son is currently addicted to Apollo 13. I must admit, we've been feeding his obsession with space travel quite a bit, in case you haven't noticed. It is one hell of a lot better for him to be watching a reenactment of all sorts of scientists trying to keep three guys alive in a tin can up on space than for him to be watching other flicks I could mention...but that's a whole 'nother ball of wax.
In watching these various films about space travel, and in reading books about it, my son told me once, in all seriousness, that when he grew up, he was going to design a metal that could take the intense heat of reentry into the Earth's atmosphere, so that tragedies like the one that befell Columbia in 2003 could never happen again.
I cannot tell you how happy that made me, hearing him say that.
Unfortunately, in considering Clay's latest post, I cannot help but wonder about all the obstacles being put in the way of good scientific learning and research in this country, and I also have to wonder about the people who would pour more money and resources into other things.
From now on we live in a world where man has walked on the Moon. And it's not a miracle. We just decided to go there.**
What in God's name did happen to us? Why in hell can't we simply decide to go ahead and get the levees up to snuff, learning something from the Dutch in the process? I had a chat with some folks today who discussed some architectural possibilities for new homes in south Central Louisiana to replace the ones decimated by Gustav. Is that sort of engineering really out of our reach?
As good as our governor was in our latest time of insanity, he is indeed no meteorologist. And despite his flurry of facts, figures, and rapid-fire on-top-of-it-allness exhibited in his press conferences, he approved of legislation allowing creationism to be taught in public schools across the state.
Do moderate-to-conservative politicians and folks who think they can pray away any sort of ills and attitudes look at their kids when they express any sort of curiosity about science, any inventing initiative, and/or any thoughts of their own concerning how the world works and see some sort of devilment that must be exorcised? Nonconformity that must be quashed? A certain - dare I say it - foreignness about their children's views?
Well, the fact that this machine is at the French-Swiss border working merrily away and this one is simply a hole in Texas*** indicates that we handed a great deal of our scientific know-how and our curiosity to other countries a loooong time ago.
What will it take for us to keep up? Another Sputnik-type breakthrough? A cure for cancer coming from a research facility somewhere in Iran? Somebody in North Korea finding a cheap, clean alternative energy source that can power our lives?
When will we decide to go there?
____________________
*from Jed Horne's "Whatever It Takes: Why I Stayed" in the latest issue of the Oxford American
**Tom Hanks as Jim Lovell in Apollo 13
***Herman Wouk already had some fun with this one.
___________________________
And speaking of going there...here's a tres kewl site about the lunar landings.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Monday, September 08, 2008
Everybody is biting their nails with such worry over this new storm that is heading towards the Gulf with such menace, this Lingonberry La-La Land, this Swedish Smasher, this Behemoth of Big Boxes. Yeah, y'all know what I'm talkin' about...
It's gonna be fast, by God. It will be flinging so many unassembled sets of shelves at such high speeds, you won't know what hit you. Everybody will have to board up their windows because friends don't let friends have particle board furniture in their homes. And the tornadoes of framed prints that will reduce one's abode to a picture in a catalog!
Dear Lord, it's everyone's worst nightmare come to life.
Save yourselves from this scourge! Protect your fine art works and your great good taste! Beware of this Hurricane Ikea!!!!!
Oh, wait....
*shuffles off, embarrassed*
Saturday, September 06, 2008
I look at all the pictures that have been uploaded, pictures that show us in small doses how much the Houma Nation will have to shoulder with regards to their recovery, and I can't think of better places to put my confused energies at this time.
Bagging up the leaves and branches still needs to be done here. I finally managed to do some dishes and some laundry. Took my son to the aquarium earlier today. Had dinner at Jamila's last night with family and friends, and brunch yesterday morn at Slim Goodies', and I didn't mind their truncated menu one bit. There were even a lot of people at our first Shabbat services after the storm, though our executive director had to sleep in the synagogue due to the lack of electricity at his home.
Things are so...normal. And yet not.
Our decision to evacuate came a day before a mandatory order to do so came down from city officials (and left a message on our voice mail, by which time we were already making our way towards Oklahoma from Texas). We zigzagged our way through Louisiana and Mississippi, then Louisiana again before settling in a hotel east of Dallas late Saturday night. Along the way, my son was biting into an apple while we were tooling along on I-12 and informed me he'd lost a tooth - his first. I called up my mother, in part because I was freaking out at what I thought was a bit too early of a milestone for the little guy to have. When I told her we'd told him he needed to take better care of his teeth, she chided us half-jokingly;"You are some mean parents!" The tooth fairy left him a Sacajawea dollar for his bottom front tooth under my mom's pillow at their house in Oklahoma City.
We pulled into Natchitoches, Louisiana, for a short break after a beautiful drive down highway 84 and found ourselves at the banks of the Cane River taking in the last night of the Zydeco Festival, which was going on until midnight. The little guy ran around with a girl he'd just met as our dog sniffed the grass and we listened to Leroy Chavis and his band rocking the downtown. We ate at a restaurant that had two different programs on each of its televisions: one was the Illinois-Missouri football game, and the other was nonstop coverage of around-the-state prep for Hurricane Gustav. Back into the car, where we tried to get a room in a La Quinta in Longview, Texas, only to be turned away after the guy standing just in front of my husband in line and chatting amiably with the desk clerk for twenty-damn-minutes took the last room. We found another room in a hotel further down the road, where we spied an Entergy truck from New Orleans in the parking lot.
Oklahoma always weirds me out, but I seemed to search for even more faults with the state and with my parents' new city of residence this trip. Oh, the novelty of passing the Oklahoma Horseshoeing School (South Campus!). The strangeness of a) having the Boy Scouts of America sponsor a Kid's Meal at the Braun's chain of restaurants and dairy stores and b) having my son find a small emergency flashlight in his kids' meal. The sheer hilarity of having boosterist billboards along the highway proclaiming messages such as OKLAHOMA: The parking meter was invented in our Great State. The fault-finding was largely unwarranted: my family and the state were good to us.
I was searching for something off, however, because things were already off and I couldn't take the time to really settle and see that. Between having to shuttle around with family, be mom and wife, keep tabs on our dog, who came with us and had to be eased into life with my parent's yellow Labrador, and doing some checking on storm progress but not too much, I didn't have too many moments to process that, yes, we were fine, but our home might not be. People we knew, good friends who were scattered about the southeast or who stayed to weather the winds and rain, good people who were also doing their thing - we were all in limbo, hurrying up to wait on a force of nature that, depending on circumstances beyond our control, could pass us by or wreak some serious havoc.
Uneasy times, punctuated by moments that were akin to pretty much any other family vacation we've ever had.
Tackiness was encountered at establishments such as Oklahoma City's Science Museum, where we gave the girl at the desk our zip code and she informed us that, of the six families from New Orleans that had come through the museum, we were the only ones that had not asked for an evacuee discount. There were moments when my toothless wonder of a son would run up to people and instantly lay out a five-year-old's version of the events of the past few days and we'd cringe a little. Overall, we were having a good time, but there was also the feeling that it was somewhat stolen from somewhere, some way.
Right now, though, I want to give back some of that good feeling to these parishes, people and places that were hit hardest by this. Because life will always make us feel off-balance at some times more than others. And because we need to grab hold of these times when we can do something to get those who have fallen waaaay off balance back on again.
It is why I take great joy in encountering the incongruous in unexpected times and places:
Oh, these little vignettes, these windows of possibility that show us, all at the same time, how sacred and profane we can be. How much we can soar while both feet are firmly planted on the ground.
How much we can truly help others when we want to, and we have it in our power to do so.
Bagging up the leaves and branches still needs to be done here. I finally managed to do some dishes and some laundry. Took my son to the aquarium earlier today. Had dinner at Jamila's last night with family and friends, and brunch yesterday morn at Slim Goodies', and I didn't mind their truncated menu one bit. There were even a lot of people at our first Shabbat services after the storm, though our executive director had to sleep in the synagogue due to the lack of electricity at his home.
Things are so...normal. And yet not.
Our decision to evacuate came a day before a mandatory order to do so came down from city officials (and left a message on our voice mail, by which time we were already making our way towards Oklahoma from Texas). We zigzagged our way through Louisiana and Mississippi, then Louisiana again before settling in a hotel east of Dallas late Saturday night. Along the way, my son was biting into an apple while we were tooling along on I-12 and informed me he'd lost a tooth - his first. I called up my mother, in part because I was freaking out at what I thought was a bit too early of a milestone for the little guy to have. When I told her we'd told him he needed to take better care of his teeth, she chided us half-jokingly;"You are some mean parents!" The tooth fairy left him a Sacajawea dollar for his bottom front tooth under my mom's pillow at their house in Oklahoma City.
We pulled into Natchitoches, Louisiana, for a short break after a beautiful drive down highway 84 and found ourselves at the banks of the Cane River taking in the last night of the Zydeco Festival, which was going on until midnight. The little guy ran around with a girl he'd just met as our dog sniffed the grass and we listened to Leroy Chavis and his band rocking the downtown. We ate at a restaurant that had two different programs on each of its televisions: one was the Illinois-Missouri football game, and the other was nonstop coverage of around-the-state prep for Hurricane Gustav. Back into the car, where we tried to get a room in a La Quinta in Longview, Texas, only to be turned away after the guy standing just in front of my husband in line and chatting amiably with the desk clerk for twenty-damn-minutes took the last room. We found another room in a hotel further down the road, where we spied an Entergy truck from New Orleans in the parking lot.
Oklahoma always weirds me out, but I seemed to search for even more faults with the state and with my parents' new city of residence this trip. Oh, the novelty of passing the Oklahoma Horseshoeing School (South Campus!). The strangeness of a) having the Boy Scouts of America sponsor a Kid's Meal at the Braun's chain of restaurants and dairy stores and b) having my son find a small emergency flashlight in his kids' meal. The sheer hilarity of having boosterist billboards along the highway proclaiming messages such as OKLAHOMA: The parking meter was invented in our Great State. The fault-finding was largely unwarranted: my family and the state were good to us.
I was searching for something off, however, because things were already off and I couldn't take the time to really settle and see that. Between having to shuttle around with family, be mom and wife, keep tabs on our dog, who came with us and had to be eased into life with my parent's yellow Labrador, and doing some checking on storm progress but not too much, I didn't have too many moments to process that, yes, we were fine, but our home might not be. People we knew, good friends who were scattered about the southeast or who stayed to weather the winds and rain, good people who were also doing their thing - we were all in limbo, hurrying up to wait on a force of nature that, depending on circumstances beyond our control, could pass us by or wreak some serious havoc.
Uneasy times, punctuated by moments that were akin to pretty much any other family vacation we've ever had.
Tackiness was encountered at establishments such as Oklahoma City's Science Museum, where we gave the girl at the desk our zip code and she informed us that, of the six families from New Orleans that had come through the museum, we were the only ones that had not asked for an evacuee discount. There were moments when my toothless wonder of a son would run up to people and instantly lay out a five-year-old's version of the events of the past few days and we'd cringe a little. Overall, we were having a good time, but there was also the feeling that it was somewhat stolen from somewhere, some way.
Right now, though, I want to give back some of that good feeling to these parishes, people and places that were hit hardest by this. Because life will always make us feel off-balance at some times more than others. And because we need to grab hold of these times when we can do something to get those who have fallen waaaay off balance back on again.
It is why I take great joy in encountering the incongruous in unexpected times and places:
Oh, these little vignettes, these windows of possibility that show us, all at the same time, how sacred and profane we can be. How much we can soar while both feet are firmly planted on the ground.How much we can truly help others when we want to, and we have it in our power to do so.
Today's update:
Friday morning was the first day that I was allowed access to Isle de Jean Charles. A first responder brought me pictures the night before, but I had not yet seen the Island personally. So my husband Mike, my 11 year old daughter Felicite and I, wearing our rubber boots, headed to Isle de Jean Charles, one of the hardest hit communities. Island Road, the highway that leads to the settlement, lay covered with dead trout, drum and red fish. We parked our truck at the beginning of the Island and walked several miles to the end. The pictures did not prepare me for what I was about to see. We witnessed homes off their foundations that had floated on levees and piles of rubble that were once homes. After years of coastal erosion and without a good protection levee this community was very fragile. Hurricane Gustav showed no mercy. I became very angry that something had not been done sooner to protect the barrier islands that would have given my community a fighting chance. I remember stories told to me of how there were acres of land on which children played baseball, and pastures where horses roamed. To see the state of the Island now was overwhelming.
_____________________
Oh, and some cardinal rules for reentering residents to ANY community hit by a storm:
1) Buy local.
I cried briefly this morning. I’m not usually prone to that but….
Those of you who know the restaurant know that our biggest seller is our redfish sammich. One of the reasons for this is that it’s made with ciabatta bread we get from La Boulangerie up Magazine St. This bakery is owned by a Frenchman named Dominique (we met his parents during a catering gig a few months back) and we’ve been consistent customers nearly since we opened. Dominique closed his shop before the storm, posting a sign in the window, and I just assumed he wouldn’t be back until this weekend or so. We had plenty of fish in-house and we’ve just been serving it on regular hamburger buns or on whatever cheapass French bread we could find. I called La Boulangerie Tuesday and left a message for Dominique to call whenever they got up and running again. This morning, Dominique appears about 9:30ish at the restaurant with 15 loaves of this wonderful ciabatta. Needless to say, I was beyond touched and, I guess, I could have kissed him (him being all Gallic and all). But suffice to say I ordered MORE for pickup tomorrow. Sweet.
Amen to that.
Friday morning was the first day that I was allowed access to Isle de Jean Charles. A first responder brought me pictures the night before, but I had not yet seen the Island personally. So my husband Mike, my 11 year old daughter Felicite and I, wearing our rubber boots, headed to Isle de Jean Charles, one of the hardest hit communities. Island Road, the highway that leads to the settlement, lay covered with dead trout, drum and red fish. We parked our truck at the beginning of the Island and walked several miles to the end. The pictures did not prepare me for what I was about to see. We witnessed homes off their foundations that had floated on levees and piles of rubble that were once homes. After years of coastal erosion and without a good protection levee this community was very fragile. Hurricane Gustav showed no mercy. I became very angry that something had not been done sooner to protect the barrier islands that would have given my community a fighting chance. I remember stories told to me of how there were acres of land on which children played baseball, and pastures where horses roamed. To see the state of the Island now was overwhelming.
Of the 100 or so people who live on the Island we met with approximately 4 families. The rest had not yet returned to see the fate of their homes. We stopped at what was left of every home, walking through a foot of swamp mud and leaving contact information so that we could try to offer assistance.
As we approached the end of Island, we saw a stark contrast as camps owned my non residents were often left totally intact, without any visual signs of damage. We met one of the camp owners on his was out who exclaimed that although the hurricane was bad he thought it was going to be a lot worse. He must have repeated those thoughts a half dozen times. I could not believe what he was telling me. NOT THAT BAD…COULD HAVE BEEN A LOT WORSE…FOR WHOM? Surely not the residents of the Island! As we continued to walk the next camp owners spoke from the balcony of his perfectly intact camp and expressed with pride how his camp has withstood the last three hurricanes without any damage because it is built with 32,000 wood screws. Our people can’t afford HOMES built with 32,000 wood screws. So we are left with homes totally destroyed and may have to consider relocating, leaving the land we love while non residents with resources can build CAMPS that will sustain hurricanes force winds and coastal erosion. Why hasn’t something been done sooner to protect our community? Is it because the Island is a poor Indian community so it doesn’t matter what happens to us?
Greg also reminds us of the other communities affected by Gustav:The Houmas are not alone; all of Terrebonne parish was badly hurt, as was neighboring Lafourche parish. Assumption parish will be out of power longer than Baton Rouge. Vermilion parish, flooded and battered by Rita, was hit again, while Cameron was spared this time, but still hasn’t recovered; neither has Calcasieu parish.
Supplies are low. Ike is coming. Don’t forget this time.
_____________________
Oh, and some cardinal rules for reentering residents to ANY community hit by a storm:
1) Buy local.
I cried briefly this morning. I’m not usually prone to that but….
Those of you who know the restaurant know that our biggest seller is our redfish sammich. One of the reasons for this is that it’s made with ciabatta bread we get from La Boulangerie up Magazine St. This bakery is owned by a Frenchman named Dominique (we met his parents during a catering gig a few months back) and we’ve been consistent customers nearly since we opened. Dominique closed his shop before the storm, posting a sign in the window, and I just assumed he wouldn’t be back until this weekend or so. We had plenty of fish in-house and we’ve just been serving it on regular hamburger buns or on whatever cheapass French bread we could find. I called La Boulangerie Tuesday and left a message for Dominique to call whenever they got up and running again. This morning, Dominique appears about 9:30ish at the restaurant with 15 loaves of this wonderful ciabatta. Needless to say, I was beyond touched and, I guess, I could have kissed him (him being all Gallic and all). But suffice to say I ordered MORE for pickup tomorrow. Sweet.
This is why I do as much business locally as I can. Dominique goes out of his way to help us without being asked. Our crawfish guy (David from Lafitte) shows up religiously — no matter how little I happen to buy from him. The wonderful folks at Rouses have pushed to re-open and are pretty well stocked. Our main supplier (F. Christiana) has come back on line and already made a major delivery. The BreauxMart on Magazine is blowing and going. Where is Wal-Mart? Where is Sam’s? They’re still closed — as are most of the big national chain joints. Bite me.
2) Be patient, and nice, and courteous as all get out to the people serving you. This goes double to infinite in importance after a storm.Speaking of bite me — it’s been pretty easy to tell who stayed during the storm and who evacuated. Those who stayed have been patient and shown a good sense of humor as we’ve come back up to speed this week. They’re just glad to have someplace to go that has power and a/c and is serving a semblance of a normal menu. A lot of them don’t have power at home yet, so they’re pretty much just happy to show up. But a lot of those who bugged out are just coming back — and they expect (they sometimes DEMAND) that things be just like they were a week ago, before the storm kinda threw everything out of whack for awhile.
I threw one of them out of the restaurant yesterday. We were crazy busy for breakfast and, for the most part, folks were understanding that we were short of employees and inventory. We were the first place on Magazine to re-open after Gustav passed and we remain one of the very few with any breakfast at all. It indeed took a long time to fill this woman’s (to-go) order. The to-go folks are automatically bumped to the back when we have a house full of sit-down customers. But this woman pissed and moaned and bitched and griped and got on everyone’s nerves until she finally got her order and TBK comped it for taking so long. She continued to bitch about the service and I went out and apoligized and she kept griping so I finally told her that if she wasn’t happy she could go to the freaking McDonald’s on St. Charles (which hasn’t reopened yet). She continued bitching and I told her just get out. Get out of my place and go tell her friends who are just like her that I don’t want them in my restaurant and I don’t want her in my place again. Kristen also yelled something as she was slinking away. It was great. The customer is always right until they’re an asshole. Then they’re just an asshole.
I think we’re each put on earth to do one of three things: 1) to make someone smile, 2) to make someone think or 3) to help someone who needs help. If we’re lucky, we can accomplish all three. I’ve been extremely fortunate in the past week to see all those traits in a lot of wonderful people. It’s just a shame some folks don’t get it — and, frankly, I don’t want them in my place of business no matter how green their money is.
It all goes back to Rabbi Hillel, y'all: What is hateful to you, do not do unto your neighbor. All the rest is commentary, now go and study.Amen to that.
Friday, September 05, 2008
It is now four days since the storm. Still no electricity and some areas are without water. We have been doing an in-depth review of the status of our bayou communities. We are heartbroken to discover that our communities of Isle de Jean Charles and Pointe au Chene have been virtually destroyed by this storm. The attached pictures will illustrate this point much better than any words can describe. For every picture of a home destroyed, a family has been displaced and its members left to contemplate their futures.
In a conversation I had with someone from a national organization today, the haunting words were said “It looks like you dodged a bullet!” I tried to refrain from over reacting to the comment as it was obvious that the local and national media do not consider us worth covering. Once again the United Houma Nation and its tribal citizens have been ignored and our People have been left to fend for themselves in the face of this overwhelming catastrophe. We offer thanks to the creator for all who have reached out to help us in our greatest time of need.
The communities of the United Houma Nation have been hit especially hard by this last hurricane.
Please go here to learn how you can help.
There but for the whims of a storm's movements go any of our communities.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
One Myth (or more), One Possibility
"Go look at fema.gov and see if you can get reimbursed for your hotel room stays," our friend Edie told us from her perch in Florida. "They owe you. They owe all of us."
Ummm....no, apparently, they don't.
To receive money or help for "Housing Needs" that are the result of a disaster, all of the following must be true:
You have losses in an area that has been declared a disaster by the president.
You have filed for insurance benefits and the damage to your property is not covered by your insurance or your insurance settlement is insufficient to meet your losses.
You or someone who lives with you is a citizen of the United States, a non-citizen national, or a qualified alien.
The home in the disaster area is where you usually live and where you were living at the time of the disaster.
You are not able to live in your home now, you cannot get to your home due to the disaster, or your home requires repairs because of damage from the disaster.
You may not be eligible for "Housing Needs" assistance if:
You have other, adequate rent-free housing that you can use (for example, rental property that is not occupied).
Your home that was damaged is your secondary or vacation residence.
Your expenses resulted only from leaving your home as a precaution and you were able to return to your home immediately after the incident.
You have refused assistance from your insurance provider(s).
Your only losses are business losses (including farm business other than the farmhouse and self-employment) or items not covered by this program.
The damaged home where you live is located in a designated flood hazard area and your community is not participating in the National Flood Insurance Program. In this case, the flood damage to your home would not be covered, but you may qualify for rental assistance or items not covered by flood insurance, such as water wells, septic systems, medical, dental, or funeral expenses.
According to Maitri, there isn't much point in trying to navigate FEMA's online application OR in calling their 1-800 number. It also means that folks like Loki, who went through, quite literally, hell on wheels evacuating by way of I-59, won't get any sort of reimbursement through those federal channels - in fact, judging from the pictures he and Alexis took, many levels of government made it a point to treat people leaving like lambs to a certain sort of slaughter:
Our group joined Contraflow, the evacuation plan where several designated highways have all lanes temporarily pointing away from the evacuation zone. It was in Contraflow that the real nastiness began.
The six hours before dawn took us into the gridlock. Once we hit I-59, traffic was reduced to an average of one to three miles per hour. With no available gas in sight, the option of AC rapidly became too fuel-intensive to embrace. In heat close to 90 degrees we watched people around us start to wilt. With each hour, the situation became more unpleasant.
Remember the beginning of this post when I spoke of people gathering their possessions? Now came the heartbreaking part, watching them leaving behind entire trailers, sometimes boats or cars, because they were terrified that they would not have enough gas to get out if they kept them.
As my cats came closer and closer to fatal heatstroke, we poured water over their heads to cool them off. Two almost died. People around us were obviously suffering in the temperature, including many elderly and infants. The various cars stalled out on the side of the road stood like scarecrows striking the fear of being left behind into our hearts. The worst place to be in a hurricane, bar none, is in a car stuck in traffic. Visions of being blown into the air in your vehicle by the “Mother of All Storms” contributed to the palpable feelings of despair.
In Mississippi, police blocked the off ramps, several cars at each. it seems we were not wanted or allowed to leave the parking lot that was Contraflow. Fear of the situation warred with rage at those whose panic was substituted for leadership. All the while, the radio spewed forth reports of how well Contraflow was working, alternating with self-congratulatory proclamations by the mayor.
My wife became so ill with the heat that an ambulance, sheer impossibility in this situation, was seriously contemplated. The lady who was driving and my wife both had to use the side of the road to relieve themselves, as did anyone else on the road.
The last few miles of this hell ride were the slowest and ugliest. The fact that I did not see any violence around us is something that makes me take pride in my fellow man; the shimmering heat haze was a type well know in the subtropics, the type that incites tempers.
Now Contraflow had both sides of I-59 heading east, at a crawl, and as we approached the end of the route we hit the slowest point of the trek. The signage and police were merging these two glacially slow-moving sides of the highway onto our side. Movement slowed a few feet every twenty minutes or so.
It took thirteen hours to reach Hattiesburg, MS. That’s 110.59 miles for those of you following at home.
Understandably, Loki is staying put up in Ohio until everybody in his family, human and feline, is fully recovered and they all have a home with full electricity restored to come back to.
However, we are on the comeback trail.
Technically speaking, my son's school is postponed until Monday. My husband's business won't resume operations until then, either. "We can head over and visit Austin or San Antonio, if you want," Dan told me.
"I just want to go home," I said testily.
Things are different when the weather and general government incompetence have conspired to make you leave and then prevent you from returning without a fight. Even if evacuation proves to be a fairly easy process (which it was for us - we learned a long time ago that standard evac routes were not the way to leave one's beloved city. Case in point: a friend of ours, on a lark, decided to test out all the blue evacuation route signs on Long Island to see where they led. He found himself driving in one giant circle all around the island. No....escape....!!!!!!), there is a feeling of unease, of guilt at being able to see people in Natchitoches enjoying themselves with live zydeco music until midnight, of being miles away from where things are happening. Even though you know there's probably very little you could do if you stayed, it is still home, and it needs tending. It should not...must not...be taken for granted.
"I heard they reopened the city to everybody, finally," my dad said to us over our last meal together before we headed south.
WARNING: what follows is speculation, not confirmed fact.
"They were looking for the criminals our idiot former D.A. let out on the streets," Dan said. "Problem is, it backed up things so badly, the state police had to put pressure on New Orleans to remove the roadblocks."
If the possibility my husband mentioned is the reason, or one of the few, stupid reasons why city residents such as ourselves were denied an immediate return to heck on our homes and businesses, then our city's recovery is quite doomed. This also does not bode well for any attempts to move mass populations out of harm's way if, in the end, all of us will be treated as criminals regardless of whether or not we actually are. And, "Oh, if you don't have a record, you have nothing to fear," doesn't cut it.
Considering New Orleans' history, it really would not have surprised me if the reentry was a reverse version of this satirical scenario, which is sadly funny in part because, historically, there has been some truth to it.:
As local officials laid out preparation plans for the impending arrival of Hurricane Gustav to the Louisiana coastline, local business leaders convened at an undisclosed location Uptown before passing a written statement to an armed Blackwater guard, who read the following while standing at the security gate of Audubon Place on St. Charles Avenue.
"We feel an evacuation by groups is the most efficient way to deal with potential problems of gridlock and general citizen disobedience," the guard read. "The simplest way to assign citizens group affiliation is by color-coding. We ask that all black residents of New Orleans evacuate first. We will even provide buses."
Now, if you'll excuse us, we'll be heading home.
"Go look at fema.gov and see if you can get reimbursed for your hotel room stays," our friend Edie told us from her perch in Florida. "They owe you. They owe all of us."
Ummm....no, apparently, they don't.
To receive money or help for "Housing Needs" that are the result of a disaster, all of the following must be true:
You have losses in an area that has been declared a disaster by the president.
You have filed for insurance benefits and the damage to your property is not covered by your insurance or your insurance settlement is insufficient to meet your losses.
You or someone who lives with you is a citizen of the United States, a non-citizen national, or a qualified alien.
The home in the disaster area is where you usually live and where you were living at the time of the disaster.
You are not able to live in your home now, you cannot get to your home due to the disaster, or your home requires repairs because of damage from the disaster.
You may not be eligible for "Housing Needs" assistance if:
You have other, adequate rent-free housing that you can use (for example, rental property that is not occupied).
Your home that was damaged is your secondary or vacation residence.
Your expenses resulted only from leaving your home as a precaution and you were able to return to your home immediately after the incident.
You have refused assistance from your insurance provider(s).
Your only losses are business losses (including farm business other than the farmhouse and self-employment) or items not covered by this program.
The damaged home where you live is located in a designated flood hazard area and your community is not participating in the National Flood Insurance Program. In this case, the flood damage to your home would not be covered, but you may qualify for rental assistance or items not covered by flood insurance, such as water wells, septic systems, medical, dental, or funeral expenses.
According to Maitri, there isn't much point in trying to navigate FEMA's online application OR in calling their 1-800 number. It also means that folks like Loki, who went through, quite literally, hell on wheels evacuating by way of I-59, won't get any sort of reimbursement through those federal channels - in fact, judging from the pictures he and Alexis took, many levels of government made it a point to treat people leaving like lambs to a certain sort of slaughter:
Our group joined Contraflow, the evacuation plan where several designated highways have all lanes temporarily pointing away from the evacuation zone. It was in Contraflow that the real nastiness began.
The six hours before dawn took us into the gridlock. Once we hit I-59, traffic was reduced to an average of one to three miles per hour. With no available gas in sight, the option of AC rapidly became too fuel-intensive to embrace. In heat close to 90 degrees we watched people around us start to wilt. With each hour, the situation became more unpleasant.
Remember the beginning of this post when I spoke of people gathering their possessions? Now came the heartbreaking part, watching them leaving behind entire trailers, sometimes boats or cars, because they were terrified that they would not have enough gas to get out if they kept them.
As my cats came closer and closer to fatal heatstroke, we poured water over their heads to cool them off. Two almost died. People around us were obviously suffering in the temperature, including many elderly and infants. The various cars stalled out on the side of the road stood like scarecrows striking the fear of being left behind into our hearts. The worst place to be in a hurricane, bar none, is in a car stuck in traffic. Visions of being blown into the air in your vehicle by the “Mother of All Storms” contributed to the palpable feelings of despair.
In Mississippi, police blocked the off ramps, several cars at each. it seems we were not wanted or allowed to leave the parking lot that was Contraflow. Fear of the situation warred with rage at those whose panic was substituted for leadership. All the while, the radio spewed forth reports of how well Contraflow was working, alternating with self-congratulatory proclamations by the mayor.
My wife became so ill with the heat that an ambulance, sheer impossibility in this situation, was seriously contemplated. The lady who was driving and my wife both had to use the side of the road to relieve themselves, as did anyone else on the road.
The last few miles of this hell ride were the slowest and ugliest. The fact that I did not see any violence around us is something that makes me take pride in my fellow man; the shimmering heat haze was a type well know in the subtropics, the type that incites tempers.
Now Contraflow had both sides of I-59 heading east, at a crawl, and as we approached the end of the route we hit the slowest point of the trek. The signage and police were merging these two glacially slow-moving sides of the highway onto our side. Movement slowed a few feet every twenty minutes or so.
It took thirteen hours to reach Hattiesburg, MS. That’s 110.59 miles for those of you following at home.
Understandably, Loki is staying put up in Ohio until everybody in his family, human and feline, is fully recovered and they all have a home with full electricity restored to come back to.
However, we are on the comeback trail.
Technically speaking, my son's school is postponed until Monday. My husband's business won't resume operations until then, either. "We can head over and visit Austin or San Antonio, if you want," Dan told me.
"I just want to go home," I said testily.
Things are different when the weather and general government incompetence have conspired to make you leave and then prevent you from returning without a fight. Even if evacuation proves to be a fairly easy process (which it was for us - we learned a long time ago that standard evac routes were not the way to leave one's beloved city. Case in point: a friend of ours, on a lark, decided to test out all the blue evacuation route signs on Long Island to see where they led. He found himself driving in one giant circle all around the island. No....escape....!!!!!!), there is a feeling of unease, of guilt at being able to see people in Natchitoches enjoying themselves with live zydeco music until midnight, of being miles away from where things are happening. Even though you know there's probably very little you could do if you stayed, it is still home, and it needs tending. It should not...must not...be taken for granted.
"I heard they reopened the city to everybody, finally," my dad said to us over our last meal together before we headed south.
WARNING: what follows is speculation, not confirmed fact.
"They were looking for the criminals our idiot former D.A. let out on the streets," Dan said. "Problem is, it backed up things so badly, the state police had to put pressure on New Orleans to remove the roadblocks."
If the possibility my husband mentioned is the reason, or one of the few, stupid reasons why city residents such as ourselves were denied an immediate return to heck on our homes and businesses, then our city's recovery is quite doomed. This also does not bode well for any attempts to move mass populations out of harm's way if, in the end, all of us will be treated as criminals regardless of whether or not we actually are. And, "Oh, if you don't have a record, you have nothing to fear," doesn't cut it.
Considering New Orleans' history, it really would not have surprised me if the reentry was a reverse version of this satirical scenario, which is sadly funny in part because, historically, there has been some truth to it.:
As local officials laid out preparation plans for the impending arrival of Hurricane Gustav to the Louisiana coastline, local business leaders convened at an undisclosed location Uptown before passing a written statement to an armed Blackwater guard, who read the following while standing at the security gate of Audubon Place on St. Charles Avenue.
"We feel an evacuation by groups is the most efficient way to deal with potential problems of gridlock and general citizen disobedience," the guard read. "The simplest way to assign citizens group affiliation is by color-coding. We ask that all black residents of New Orleans evacuate first. We will even provide buses."
Now, if you'll excuse us, we'll be heading home.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
The following was pulled off the nola.com Times-Picayune online front page, after a brief showing on the front page links. God bless Gambit's Blog of New Orleans for keeping it alive, and for archiving a copy. I am reprinting the whole thing below. This afternoon, we are heading back, with every expectation we will able to reenter our city late on Thursday.
Next time, we won't leave
Posted by James O'Byrne, staff writer, Times-Picayune September 02, 2008 8:11PM
The next time, my family will stay. I'm sure that Gov. Bobby Jindal, Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff, Mayor Ray Nagin, Jefferson Parish President Aaron Broussard and all the other public officials mean well. I'm sure they thought it was a good idea to panic people into leaving. I'm sure they believe it's in the public's best interest to stay away while they clean up.
But the evacuation of the metro area in advance of Gustav, and the subsequent policies regarding re-entry, will guarantee that in the next major storm to strike the region - which may occur in a matter of days or weeks - many more people will be at risk. The slightest bit of vision, combined with an open ear to the anger and frustration of this hurricane-weary citizenry, would make the government officials responsible realize that they helped to make this happen.
Under Louisiana law, it is still legally not possible to forcibly remove people from their property and make them leave in advance of an approaching storm. So every evacuation becomes an implicit contract between the officials and the public. You tell us the truth, and the risks as the scientists and forecasters see it. We'll try to make good decisions for the sake of our families. When that contract is broken, as I believe it was in the case of Gustav, then the tradeoff is that fewer people leave the next time. Here's three rules that public officials must follow if they want people to evacuate in significant numbers again:
Rule No. 1: Don't exaggerate and force a panic. It is not supposed to be the business of public officials to panic people with disinformation, misinformation, or downright lies. To call Gustav "the mother of all storms" 900 miles wide, as Mayor Nagin did, was demonstrably untrue, and an insult to Katrina and all who suffered through that storm. Gustav had hurricane force winds extending 50 miles from its center. Katrina, by comparison, had hurricane force winds extending 105 miles from the center. It was 50 percent more powerful, and carved a path of destruction more than twice as wide as Gustav.
Read the rest here.
Next time, we won't leave
Posted by James O'Byrne, staff writer, Times-Picayune September 02, 2008 8:11PM
The next time, my family will stay. I'm sure that Gov. Bobby Jindal, Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff, Mayor Ray Nagin, Jefferson Parish President Aaron Broussard and all the other public officials mean well. I'm sure they thought it was a good idea to panic people into leaving. I'm sure they believe it's in the public's best interest to stay away while they clean up.
But the evacuation of the metro area in advance of Gustav, and the subsequent policies regarding re-entry, will guarantee that in the next major storm to strike the region - which may occur in a matter of days or weeks - many more people will be at risk. The slightest bit of vision, combined with an open ear to the anger and frustration of this hurricane-weary citizenry, would make the government officials responsible realize that they helped to make this happen.
Under Louisiana law, it is still legally not possible to forcibly remove people from their property and make them leave in advance of an approaching storm. So every evacuation becomes an implicit contract between the officials and the public. You tell us the truth, and the risks as the scientists and forecasters see it. We'll try to make good decisions for the sake of our families. When that contract is broken, as I believe it was in the case of Gustav, then the tradeoff is that fewer people leave the next time. Here's three rules that public officials must follow if they want people to evacuate in significant numbers again:
Rule No. 1: Don't exaggerate and force a panic. It is not supposed to be the business of public officials to panic people with disinformation, misinformation, or downright lies. To call Gustav "the mother of all storms" 900 miles wide, as Mayor Nagin did, was demonstrably untrue, and an insult to Katrina and all who suffered through that storm. Gustav had hurricane force winds extending 50 miles from its center. Katrina, by comparison, had hurricane force winds extending 105 miles from the center. It was 50 percent more powerful, and carved a path of destruction more than twice as wide as Gustav.
Read the rest here.
Dave Zirin: Gustav and the Dome
Check out the massive padlock on the dome. That will tell you all you need to know about Hurricane Gustav and the federal government's carefully orchestrated response. The padlock, that looks roughly thesize of a Frisbee, is set firmly around the doors of the Louisiana Superdome. The padlock articulates a message that would be clear to even a Bush or a Brownie: this storm will not be Katrina. By that I don't mean, "We've learned a lot in the last three years" or whatever talking points the White House is putting out.
The padlock makes clear that the public relations hurricane battle has been well engaged. There will be no photo ops of 30,000 people herded into a luxury stadium that magically morphs into a homeless shelter from hell. There will be no opening up the stadium to the poor and unwashed, not after spending 185 million bucks to rebuild the dome and not with the NFL season right around the corner.There will be no one left behind, even if it means putting people on buses, taking them hundreds of miles away, and not even telling them the destination for them and their families. And, more than anything else, the padlock in all of its metallic, glistening glory, is a self-incriminating indictment. It is an admission that despite what we were told three years ago, a stadium isn't really shelter; that the act of forcing people at gunpoint into the dome was a criminal act; and that believing any stadium could have redeeming social value as an emergency evacuation center, is a lie.
The padlock on the Superdome prevents any more ugly backdrops for"When the Levees Broke II", and preserves the pristine field for Drew Brees, Reggie Bush, and the rest of the Saints. But it also raises more questions than answers: if people aren't in the dome, then where are they?
Where are New Orleans' 12,000 homeless residents, double the pre-Katrina numbers?
Where are the 17,000 residents of greater New Orleans still living in FEMA trailers?
Where will people live when they return? Why won't the city call for the suspension of the planned bulldozing of the city's four largest housing projects? How will the people being bussed out, be able to move back if their homes have been flattened? If people can't make it home, will they find their residence somewhere even more frightening than the dome?
New Orleans mayor Ray Nagin said over the weekend, "Anybody who's caught looting in the city of New Orleans will go directly to Angola[Louisiana State Penitentiary]. You will not have a temporary stay in the city. You go directly to the big house, in general population."
Considering that many of the so called looters after Katrina, were fighting for their lives, and considering that the media had color-coded looters, with white residents classified as heroes, the implications of Nagin's dictate is chilling. It's horrifying to think that they could be laying their head in the former slave plantation known as Angola.
And what will the fate be of the hero as of now, the wetlands? The wetlands absorbed the worst of Gustav, before the hurricane slammed into the great city. As New Orleans resident and comedian Harry Shearer said, "We're losing Wetlands at a rate of a football field every 45 minutes." The padlock is also a reminder of all the people, 25% of the pre-Katrina population, who haven't been able to return to the city. How can they have the hope of return when rents have gone up 46% in the last two years? When will this ever be addressed? (boldface mine)
The future of New Orleans will depend on our ability to answer these questions. And no amount of shameless political posturing can avoid this.
E of S Nation: if you have the funds, and have something to give for those rebuilding after Hurricane Gustav in New Orleans, please click on the below link http://www.commongroundrelief.org/taxonomy/term/12/9
Check out the massive padlock on the dome. That will tell you all you need to know about Hurricane Gustav and the federal government's carefully orchestrated response. The padlock, that looks roughly thesize of a Frisbee, is set firmly around the doors of the Louisiana Superdome. The padlock articulates a message that would be clear to even a Bush or a Brownie: this storm will not be Katrina. By that I don't mean, "We've learned a lot in the last three years" or whatever talking points the White House is putting out.
The padlock makes clear that the public relations hurricane battle has been well engaged. There will be no photo ops of 30,000 people herded into a luxury stadium that magically morphs into a homeless shelter from hell. There will be no opening up the stadium to the poor and unwashed, not after spending 185 million bucks to rebuild the dome and not with the NFL season right around the corner.There will be no one left behind, even if it means putting people on buses, taking them hundreds of miles away, and not even telling them the destination for them and their families. And, more than anything else, the padlock in all of its metallic, glistening glory, is a self-incriminating indictment. It is an admission that despite what we were told three years ago, a stadium isn't really shelter; that the act of forcing people at gunpoint into the dome was a criminal act; and that believing any stadium could have redeeming social value as an emergency evacuation center, is a lie.
The padlock on the Superdome prevents any more ugly backdrops for"When the Levees Broke II", and preserves the pristine field for Drew Brees, Reggie Bush, and the rest of the Saints. But it also raises more questions than answers: if people aren't in the dome, then where are they?
Where are New Orleans' 12,000 homeless residents, double the pre-Katrina numbers?
Where are the 17,000 residents of greater New Orleans still living in FEMA trailers?
Where will people live when they return? Why won't the city call for the suspension of the planned bulldozing of the city's four largest housing projects? How will the people being bussed out, be able to move back if their homes have been flattened? If people can't make it home, will they find their residence somewhere even more frightening than the dome?
New Orleans mayor Ray Nagin said over the weekend, "Anybody who's caught looting in the city of New Orleans will go directly to Angola[Louisiana State Penitentiary]. You will not have a temporary stay in the city. You go directly to the big house, in general population."
Considering that many of the so called looters after Katrina, were fighting for their lives, and considering that the media had color-coded looters, with white residents classified as heroes, the implications of Nagin's dictate is chilling. It's horrifying to think that they could be laying their head in the former slave plantation known as Angola.
And what will the fate be of the hero as of now, the wetlands? The wetlands absorbed the worst of Gustav, before the hurricane slammed into the great city. As New Orleans resident and comedian Harry Shearer said, "We're losing Wetlands at a rate of a football field every 45 minutes." The padlock is also a reminder of all the people, 25% of the pre-Katrina population, who haven't been able to return to the city. How can they have the hope of return when rents have gone up 46% in the last two years? When will this ever be addressed? (boldface mine)
The future of New Orleans will depend on our ability to answer these questions. And no amount of shameless political posturing can avoid this.
E of S Nation: if you have the funds, and have something to give for those rebuilding after Hurricane Gustav in New Orleans, please click on the below link http://www.commongroundrelief.org/taxonomy/term/12/9
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
THIS JUST IN:
STATEMENT FROM N.O. COUNCIL MEMBERS ARNIE FIELKOW AND STACY HEAD
Fielkow and Head have worked for 24 hours to encourage the administration to allow access to the city earlier.
At a minimum, Orleans should have followed all the other parishes and allowed re-entry as of 6 am Wednesday.While conditions in New Orleans are not good, electricity is not widely available, and health services are seriously depleted, Cms Head and Fielkow believe that people who need to return, particularly small business owners, should be allowed to make decisions for themselves.
As far as I'm concerned, any health professionals ought to have been in Tier Yesterday for reentry into New Orleans.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be checking out some of the rain bands heading here to Oklahoma City, and I will run to any of the four full baths my parents have in their home in the event of a tornado siren blaring. Wish me luck in any of their bathtubs.
STATEMENT FROM N.O. COUNCIL MEMBERS ARNIE FIELKOW AND STACY HEAD
Fielkow and Head have worked for 24 hours to encourage the administration to allow access to the city earlier.
At a minimum, Orleans should have followed all the other parishes and allowed re-entry as of 6 am Wednesday.While conditions in New Orleans are not good, electricity is not widely available, and health services are seriously depleted, Cms Head and Fielkow believe that people who need to return, particularly small business owners, should be allowed to make decisions for themselves.
As far as I'm concerned, any health professionals ought to have been in Tier Yesterday for reentry into New Orleans.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be checking out some of the rain bands heading here to Oklahoma City, and I will run to any of the four full baths my parents have in their home in the event of a tornado siren blaring. Wish me luck in any of their bathtubs.
The Braithwaite subdivision was, and most likely is still, under the threat of having a nearby levee breach. The waters overtopped the levees at that point and, when I saw Fox 8's coverage of citizens and rescue workers sandbagging the heck out of that area, I saw a familiar building in the distance. More on that in a minute.
Here's why we oughta care about that area:
The compromised levee is adjacent and parallel to Clearwater Canal and is a Plaquemines Parish responsibility, not built by the Army Corps of Engineers. Crews have worked through the afternoon and evening to maintain the levee’s structure. Several national media report that parish officials evaluate the levee materials as “soft” and do not expect them to withstand the stress of Gustav’s storm surge and rainfall.
The Caernarvon diversion was constructed in the early 1990s in response to increasing invasion of freshwater marshland by the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico and decreasing levels of nutrients and sediment reaching the marsh from freshwater sources. About 3,400 acres of wetlands have been lost since 1956 in Caernarvon’s target area of 15,556 acres in the Breton Sound basin. Caernarvon expects to recover about a quarter of that amount of wetlands in the first twenty years of operation, commencing 1992.
The Caernarvon operation is NOT a pumping station built for flood water containment or displacement. It manages outfall from the Mississippi River into Big Mar and Bayou Mandeville. The project includes the diversion structure and water “control structures” (boxed flood gates) that were installed in existing “earthen closures” (levees) and can permit a maximum of 8000 cubic feet per second of fresh water, sediment and nutrients to enter wetland areas that had been previously isolated.
To displace canal water into the currently lower level Mississippi, this process will be allowed to flow in reverse.
Caernarvon was funded under the Water Resources Development Act of 1992. The “control structures” were installed along a roughly circular path of waterways west of Big Mar and north of Lake Leary, including the Delacroix Canal and D P Canal and Reggio Canal. The Mississippi River diversion gate is on the south bank between the towns of Braithwaite and Poydras, near St. Bernard State Park and Braithwaite Country Club Lakes subdivision and Hidden Oaks Golf course. The project takes its name from the Caernarvon plantation that once occupied the gate’s site. Prior to construction, a site survey found no historic structures or artifacts that would be displaced by the diversion project.
The familiar-to-me building in the distance? None other than EBI, or Elevating Boats LLC. When I was still glassblowing, I headed out to EBI with my then-boss, where we took advantage of the use of their seriously cool computerized machine that could cut through metals with a highly pressurized water jet for some copper work we were selling in the gallery where I worked. Those people were hard workers and as nice as they could be.
I hope they are all okay.
And I would think that the folks of Braithwaite, if they were in New Orleans, would absolutely be in the "tier one" group for return to their homes and businesses, instead of strictly "retailers and major companies". Dammit, we all just want to go home. Isn't showing a driver's license or legal ID with my home's address on it enough?????
Here's why we oughta care about that area:
The compromised levee is adjacent and parallel to Clearwater Canal and is a Plaquemines Parish responsibility, not built by the Army Corps of Engineers. Crews have worked through the afternoon and evening to maintain the levee’s structure. Several national media report that parish officials evaluate the levee materials as “soft” and do not expect them to withstand the stress of Gustav’s storm surge and rainfall.
The Caernarvon diversion was constructed in the early 1990s in response to increasing invasion of freshwater marshland by the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico and decreasing levels of nutrients and sediment reaching the marsh from freshwater sources. About 3,400 acres of wetlands have been lost since 1956 in Caernarvon’s target area of 15,556 acres in the Breton Sound basin. Caernarvon expects to recover about a quarter of that amount of wetlands in the first twenty years of operation, commencing 1992.
The Caernarvon operation is NOT a pumping station built for flood water containment or displacement. It manages outfall from the Mississippi River into Big Mar and Bayou Mandeville. The project includes the diversion structure and water “control structures” (boxed flood gates) that were installed in existing “earthen closures” (levees) and can permit a maximum of 8000 cubic feet per second of fresh water, sediment and nutrients to enter wetland areas that had been previously isolated.
To displace canal water into the currently lower level Mississippi, this process will be allowed to flow in reverse.
Caernarvon was funded under the Water Resources Development Act of 1992. The “control structures” were installed along a roughly circular path of waterways west of Big Mar and north of Lake Leary, including the Delacroix Canal and D P Canal and Reggio Canal. The Mississippi River diversion gate is on the south bank between the towns of Braithwaite and Poydras, near St. Bernard State Park and Braithwaite Country Club Lakes subdivision and Hidden Oaks Golf course. The project takes its name from the Caernarvon plantation that once occupied the gate’s site. Prior to construction, a site survey found no historic structures or artifacts that would be displaced by the diversion project.
The familiar-to-me building in the distance? None other than EBI, or Elevating Boats LLC. When I was still glassblowing, I headed out to EBI with my then-boss, where we took advantage of the use of their seriously cool computerized machine that could cut through metals with a highly pressurized water jet for some copper work we were selling in the gallery where I worked. Those people were hard workers and as nice as they could be.
I hope they are all okay.
And I would think that the folks of Braithwaite, if they were in New Orleans, would absolutely be in the "tier one" group for return to their homes and businesses, instead of strictly "retailers and major companies". Dammit, we all just want to go home. Isn't showing a driver's license or legal ID with my home's address on it enough?????
Monday, September 01, 2008
WWL Live Feed is here (Thanks Mr Clio)
They're showing the funnel of the Industrial Canal full to the tops of the floodwalls.
Dear God, it is SCARY.
Talking to Major Tim Kurgan of the A. C. o' E., who is talking about the project to close the MRGO, and how great it's gonna be - when it's finished next year.
I am so, so sick right now.
Mississippi River at the Carrollton Gauge has risen 5 feet.
They're seeing wind tearing into siding and stuff in Galliano, according to the Lafourche Parish sheriff. "Tremendous evacuation compliance" has made for few emergencies in Lafourche, aside from a house that caught on fire and burned to the ground last night.
NOLA City Councilman James Carter is now on. No arrests - "The message got out about Angola!" Angela Hill says kinda jokingly. What is the reentry plan for NOLA? Once the storm is completely past, then the mayor and the city will be letting people know. Carter says things on the West Bank are better than expected.
Shots of the Algiers Canal - a patch that was put in yesterday is being pointed out by Katie Moore. It is actually holding, which is amazing considering it looked like glorified sand dunes with plastic barriers around them. At least it wasn't newspaper.
Lots of river flood warnings. St Tammany Parish tornado warning - watch those outer feeder bands. Eyewall around Cocodrie right now. Houma is really gonna get slammed - all because Jim Cantore is there. National Hurricane Center is actually RIGHT in their predictions about the eyewall and where it was gonna hit. I'm getting even sicker.
NOLA might get pinched by potential 6-9 foot surges on both sides. Gustav, you bastard, move faster inland. Tornado and flash flood watches for all of southeast Louisiana will be in effect until tomorrow AM
Major fire at Broad and Esplanade, says the mayor. Starting to see wave overtopping. Industrial Canal at France Road is being shown. Scary, scary once again. Two small ships and a barge have broken loose in the Industrial Canal and are banging against the floodwalls, and the Coast Guard is trying to get hold of those. One ship might have been in a repair dock. Weren't those boats supposed to be out of the canal? Angela asks. Ummm, yeah.
Power outages all over. Things are still early. Still watch and wait.
S & W B is on emergency power right now and can stay that way unless the power company gets flooded.
I've gotta run.
They're showing the funnel of the Industrial Canal full to the tops of the floodwalls.
Dear God, it is SCARY.
Talking to Major Tim Kurgan of the A. C. o' E., who is talking about the project to close the MRGO, and how great it's gonna be - when it's finished next year.
I am so, so sick right now.
Mississippi River at the Carrollton Gauge has risen 5 feet.
They're seeing wind tearing into siding and stuff in Galliano, according to the Lafourche Parish sheriff. "Tremendous evacuation compliance" has made for few emergencies in Lafourche, aside from a house that caught on fire and burned to the ground last night.
NOLA City Councilman James Carter is now on. No arrests - "The message got out about Angola!" Angela Hill says kinda jokingly. What is the reentry plan for NOLA? Once the storm is completely past, then the mayor and the city will be letting people know. Carter says things on the West Bank are better than expected.
Shots of the Algiers Canal - a patch that was put in yesterday is being pointed out by Katie Moore. It is actually holding, which is amazing considering it looked like glorified sand dunes with plastic barriers around them. At least it wasn't newspaper.
Lots of river flood warnings. St Tammany Parish tornado warning - watch those outer feeder bands. Eyewall around Cocodrie right now. Houma is really gonna get slammed - all because Jim Cantore is there. National Hurricane Center is actually RIGHT in their predictions about the eyewall and where it was gonna hit. I'm getting even sicker.
NOLA might get pinched by potential 6-9 foot surges on both sides. Gustav, you bastard, move faster inland. Tornado and flash flood watches for all of southeast Louisiana will be in effect until tomorrow AM
Major fire at Broad and Esplanade, says the mayor. Starting to see wave overtopping. Industrial Canal at France Road is being shown. Scary, scary once again. Two small ships and a barge have broken loose in the Industrial Canal and are banging against the floodwalls, and the Coast Guard is trying to get hold of those. One ship might have been in a repair dock. Weren't those boats supposed to be out of the canal? Angela asks. Ummm, yeah.
Power outages all over. Things are still early. Still watch and wait.
S & W B is on emergency power right now and can stay that way unless the power company gets flooded.
I've gotta run.
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