The City That Care (and Others) Forgot

Five years ago today, Elliott and I were three days into the longest separation of our new marriage. I had left our home in New Orleans on Friday, August 26 to attend my nephew’s baptism and party. Elliott had to finish up some work in New Orleans and then we planned to meet up in Connecticut where his family was gathering on that Monday. Except 10 hours after I landed in New York, the newly-forming Hurricane Katrina had changed course. It was no longer headed toward the Florida panhandle; it was set to hit New Orleans directly with Category 5 winds.

I spent most of that Saturday on the phone with Elliott weighing the pros and cons of obeying the mandatory evacuation order. I’m sure that sounds like a ridiculous deliberation to people who live elsewhere. But hindsight is 20/20. By that time in 2005’s hurricane season, we’d already been instructed to leave our home twice for what could be the long-threatened “big one.” Both storms turned out to be false alarms. Evacuation was getting tedious, time-consuming, expensive and, up to that point, unnecessary.

By Saturday night it was apparent to almost everyone that this one was not a false alarm, but the question for Elliott, who was still in New Orleans, was whether the evacuation traffic out of town was moving fast enough to get him out of harm’s way before the storm hit in the early morning hours.  After several panicked and tearful calls from me begging him to heed the evacuation order, Elliott agreed. He packed up the car with two days worth of clothes, our dog, our cat and, at my request, our wedding album. He also thought to pack our insurance policy. As the city filled with water over the next couple days it became clear that those items and the suitcase I packed for my trip were most likely our only possessions in the world.

Most of my Hurricane Katrina experience in the days immediately following the storm was like everyone else’s in America. I watched the TV in horror at how Americans much like myself could be completely abandoned by one of the wealthiest governments in the world. It was (and is) devastating, heart-breaking and infuriating. It’s hard to even think about it without crying for those left behind to suffer, starve, and die in the city I called home at the time. Left like they didn’t matter at all. That pain left no room for remorse over our own losses. They were so inconsequential.

Much like last year’s remembrance of September 11th, I have no interest in getting into all the politics that Katrina has come to represent. Today should be for remembering the victims and New Orleans — what it was and what it can be again.

Unfortunately, I have not had the opportunity to go back to New Orleans since we returned to our home to empty its contents onto the curb and leave it for good. We had relocated to Louisville and bought our first house there by Thanksgiving 2005. I hear reports of the Crescent City’s progress (and lack thereof) from Elliott, who goes for business, and friends from Tulane, but I am not the best person to provide insight on where the City’s going. I can, however, remember what I loved about New Orleans before Katrina.

So, here are the top 10 things I loved about living in New Orleans:

1. The food, the food and did I mention the food?! (especially boiled crawfish and oyster po-boys on the best po-boy bread anywhere.)
2. No winter
3. Drive-thru daiquiri shops
4. Kids walking home from school playing their trumpets the whole way
5. Laissez les bon temps rouler (“Let the good times roll”) isn’t just a phrase, a bar and a song, it’s a way of life.
6. Mardi Gras, the way the locals enjoy it — with BBQs, good music, dancing, lots of drinking, beads and other “throws” but absolutely no flashing of boobs
7. Coffee shops everywhere but hardly a Starbucks to be found
8. Commuting by streetcar
9. Zydeco and blues on the radio
10. Live Oaks and beautiful architecture

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