Katrina

I love New Orleans. I always have and have loved it more since my sister moved there more than a decade ago. Every morning I put my fleur de lis around my neck - a gift from Jess a few years ago. She said it was because of my love and support of the city especially since Katrina. What a horrific day and night that was. But here's the thing...the levees and the flooding didn't happen until the next day. Meanwhile, the rest of the Gulf Coast - the entire coastline of Mississippi and some of Alabama were devastated. I was 120 miles off the coast, and it was no picnic; no power, separated from my family, dealing with my own anxiety and fear that stemmed that other hurricane: listening to trees snapping outside in the dark and having no idea what direction they were falling. A day or two later when the mall was able to get power, some friends and I went just to have a little AC for a minute. Radio Shack has all of their tv's on. We stood with people - evacuees - and watched the 9th ward fill up with water. I heard people say "i think that's my house". The friends I was with were both clergy and immediately went to work. Shortly after, I stopped by the Methodist church downtown where another friend was the youth minister and that was also a shelter. I walked into the family life center - the gym - and immediately felt like I had stepped into that military hospital scene from "Gone with the Wind" - you know -when Scarlett goes to find the doctor and the camera pans back revealing a sea of bodies. These bodies were not broken and bleeding, but it felt like the same kind of desperation. After a few days of working with the church and the Red Cross I needed to see my family. I went home to Mobile, where Jess still was obviously, and watched my baby sister weep as I stood feeling completely helpless while her city flooded and turned in on itself. A few weeks later Curt and I drove to NOLA to help gather Jess' belongings for storage in Mobile. It took a while to find a gas station with diesel fuel for the moving truck - at least one that was open and didn't have bullet holes in the windows. We were in the city long enough to load the trucks and leave before the sun went down. It took 45 minutes to get back across the twin span. The destruction was evident all the way home. When we got home and the neighbors came out to help unload and asked what it was like, all Curt and I could do was shake our heads. There were no words. The heartbreak was everywhere. Y'all know. We lived it together. And most of us were extremely lucky. But, there are still people who suffer from PTSD and anxiety and haven't regained their lives. So, beyond all the ceremonies and speeches and great things that have happened since then across the gulf coast, I guess I just hope we all remember that there are still folks that suffer. We are still rebuilding. And, it's not all about the Big Easy. It's about us all as humans and as a region. How we fail each other and how we rise up together. Turn off the drama, and hold out a hand. That's how we remember without standing still. That's how we continue to grow.