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1 Hurricane Katrina – Our Story Sunday, October 2, 2005 Hurricane Katrina roared through southeast Louisiana and the Mississippi Gulf Coast on August 29, 2005 – my cousin DeeGee’s birthday will never be remembered in the same way again. The huge storm’s eye narrowly missed New Orleans, lashing its most extreme fury along the towns of the Gulf Coast – Biloxi, Gulfport, Pass Christian and Bay St. Louis. Oh sure, the Crescent City had its problems, but the worst was yet to come. Several levees broke after the storm, flooding 80 percent of New Orleans. Since the city is under sea level, this just compounded the problem. Toxic floodwaters sat in the soup bowl for days, fouling everything in their path, destroying homes, businesses, livelihoods – and life itself. Where do we go from here? Sometimes, we think this is all a bad dream, albeit with visits to family and friends around the southeastern United States. Surely, we’ll wake up – safe and sound in our dry home on West Lakeshore home, none the worse for wear. As in previous storms, we’ll clean out the refrigerator and freezers, replenish our stores with fresh food, and go on. The reality is far different. We have been away from home for five weeks. We’ll return briefly at the end of this week, long enough to assess the damages, bring out whatever is worth saving and head back to the relative safety of Fort Lauderdale, Florida – a place still in the hurricane

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Hurricane Katrina – Our Story

Sunday, October 2, 2005

Hurricane Katrina roared through southeast Louisiana and the Mississippi Gulf

Coast on August 29, 2005 – my cousin DeeGee’s birthday will never be remembered in

the same way again.

The huge storm’s eye narrowly missed New Orleans, lashing its most extreme

fury along the towns of the Gulf Coast – Biloxi, Gulfport, Pass Christian and Bay St.

Louis. Oh sure, the Crescent City had its problems, but the worst was yet to come.

Several levees broke after the storm, flooding 80 percent of New Orleans. Since

the city is under sea level, this just compounded the problem. Toxic floodwaters sat in the

soup bowl for days, fouling everything in their path, destroying homes, businesses,

livelihoods – and life itself.

Where do we go from here?

Sometimes, we think this is all a bad dream, albeit with visits to family and

friends around the southeastern United States. Surely, we’ll wake up – safe and sound in

our dry home on West Lakeshore home, none the worse for wear. As in previous storms,

we’ll clean out the refrigerator and freezers, replenish our stores with fresh food, and go

on.

The reality is far different.

We have been away from home for five weeks. We’ll return briefly at the end of

this week, long enough to assess the damages, bring out whatever is worth saving and

head back to the relative safety of Fort Lauderdale, Florida – a place still in the hurricane

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belt. We somehow believe that surrounded by dear friends here, we will be able to feel

safe and secure – wherever the wind blows.

How long will it take to make a decision about our next move? Who knows?

On Friday, August 26, we were looking forward to the weekend, although we

were watching the path of Katrina very carefully. I met friends at Touro Synagogue for

Erev Shabbat services; then, my husband Mark met all of us for supper at Tower of Pizza

in Metairie. Seven of us sat around the table in the restaurant, talking about where we’d

go if evacuation orders were issued. Mark and I were fairly certain that we would drive

all the way to Louisville, since we were scheduled to visit there over the Labor Day

weekend anyway. While we were not enamored either with the idea of driving 750 miles

in one day, or with the thought of having to put Zena in a kennel, we knew that we could

be with family.

We went home and to bed that Friday night; Mark planned to be up early to check

the weather forecast.

He woke up at 5 a.m. Saturday, and upon checking the storm’s path, said to me,

“Start packing.” The storm had moved as far west as it was going to, putting it on a

collision course with New Orleans.

After a previous evacuation, I had made a list of what to take with us. I

remembered that it was on a rather small piece of paper. Unfortunately, in our mad dash

to pack for this evacuation, I couldn’t find it. So we guessed at what we would need. We

packed two large duffel-type suitcases of clothes, a bag for the dogs, Zena’s dog bed,

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medicines, several photo albums – and that was about it. Mark remembered our

passports….

Our son, Michael had gotten home late the night before, and although we tried to

convince him otherwise, he wasn’t interested in evacuating with us at that point. That was

VERY frustrating, as he was still sleeping when we left. I quickly made phone calls to

my parents and our daughter Katy, urging them to nudge him by telephone until he got on

the road.

Mark, Zena and I made it to Louisville that evening – a trip we said we’d never

again make in one day unless we had to. Michael followed later - he left that day, after

helping his employers secure their business. He stayed with friends in Hattiesburg and

then in Tuscaloosa before arriving in Louisville on the following Wednesday. We

breathed a sigh of relief when he finally showed up – he had taken his own sweet time,

and the trip had gone fairly smoothly. He told us about his time in Hattiesburg --

something he’s like to forget, I think, and about meeting his friend Jessie’s University of

Alabama sorority sisters in Tuscaloosa.

After Mark and I arrived in Louisville on that Saturday night, we watched and

waited…

We operated in a fog – glad for the embrace of family and friends, but were later

heartbroken at the news coming from New Orleans. Glued to CNN, the Weather Channel

and the Internet, we spent hours each day trying to get our arms around what had

happened.

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Parts of these past weeks have been wonderful – visiting with family and friends,

the outpourings of support from virtual strangers. But the painful realization that our lives

will never be the same again has started to sink in – and we are desolate.

Family and friends in the New Orleans area are scattered all over the country.

Baton Rouge is now the largest city in Louisiana – with all of the attendant problems that

come with an inadequate infrastructure in place – horrible traffic, long lines at the

gasoline pumps and the supermarket, etc.

We spent four weeks in Louisville. When I look back on the time, I am grateful

that we spent it with family and friends. Although numerous suggestions were made for

things to do – tourist-type activities, we didn’t do any of them. I did buy some new

clothes. We spent as much time as possible with Katy and her fiancé, Wes. I went to

water aerobics with Mom. One day, we swam laps at the JCC; on another, I took a pilates

class there with my friend, Amy Benovitz. I got to attend the Bell Awards dinner, where

Amy was one of the honorees. I spent a Shabbat morning at Temple Shalom, and shared a

Kiddush lunch with their Sisterhood. Carol and Mick Savkovich had us over for dinner. I

spent time with my sister-in-law, Holly Holland, at a paint-the-pottery place – we made a

birthday gift for Dad, which we presented at a family birthday celebration – also the first

time all three grandchildren were together in years. Our honorary nephew, Treavor, was

at college and couldn’t come home. Despite the bleakness of our situation, there was joy.

We looked at two apartments, wondering when and if we could make a move to

Louisville. That is a possibility now.

Then, we moved on to Macon, to the home of our dear friends, Joan and Garry

Mitchell. We spent several days with them, eating, going on boat rides, playing with the

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dogs and visiting. Joan became like my younger sister when she and her ex-husband John

and son Jason lived next door to us years ago. We could laugh again – at long-ago

adventures as well as the “here and now.”

Now, we are in Fort Lauderdale/Pompano Beach with Wendy and Bruce

Autenrieth and our Temple Bat Yam family. We are hearing greetings of “Welcome

home.” And, we wonder, could this be home some day? We are planning to be here for

awhile – after a quick trip home to assess our situation this week.

As I write this, I have received a call from Michael. His job took him to Houston

for several weeks, where his company has an office, and then to Kenner. He is living in a

FEMA trailer, procured by his employers. The call was one we’ve been dreading – as he

has been the first one back to the house. There is mold all the way up to the ceiling – he

couldn’t tell where the water line was. He says everything is ruined. Clothes may be

washed or dry cleaned, but he was even afraid to call me from inside the house – in case

his cell phone was exposed to mold. I asked if he was wearing any protective clothing.

He was wearing only gloves – and now I fear for his health.

Mark bought protective clothing, gloves and goggles to wear when we go in on

Friday. Who knows what else we might need – or what we can save?

What do we save? What do we pitch? What do we want?

Those are the next questions we’ll try and answer in the days ahead.

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In the meantime, we feel another loss very keenly – our friends and family are

scattered across the country. Who knows when we’ll see them all again?

Saturday, October 15, 2005 – After Visiting Home I

We have been back in the Fort Lauderdale area for nearly a week. Our quick trip

home to New Orleans was bleak, heart-wrenching and very sad. It’s a two-day drive each

way from Fort Lauderdale, and Mark and I filled the time with more discussion of “what

ifs” and “whens.”

Life, as we once knew it, will never be the same again.

We left for New Orleans on the second day of Rosh Hashanah, Wednesday,

October 5th. We spent the night in Tallahassee, and drove into New Orleans the next day.

As we drove into Mississippi, we could see sings of Katrina’s wrath. Trees were down,

and billboards were either knocked out completely or out of date. It was sad to see casino

billboards advertising celebrity acts that should have appeared in September.

As we approached New Orleans on Thursday, October 6, the view became

increasingly depressing. We had to enter the city via the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway,

as I-10 over the twin spans was impassable. Anyone who believed that Jefferson Parish

was spared should be in for a shock. We found debris piled high everywhere. Houses

seemed to have vomited their contents onto the street curbs – visible evidence that they

had experienced flooding. Gray and tan piles of mattresses and furniture rose skyward;

the bleak landscape was sometimes broken by brightly-colored, cast-off child’s toys.

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The wide expanse of neutral ground between West End and Pontchartrain

Boulevards was a wasteland. In fact, workers had built an eerie landscape of dead tree

limbs, piling them several stories high. Machinery ground the limbs into more

manageable, moveable mulch. But instead of potential weed cover, all we could see was

the decimation of what had once made our area so beautiful.

Houses along West End Boulevard were in various states of destruction. The

once-varied charming architectural styles of Lakeview were reduced to piles of rubble in

some places, great pieces of homes missing – and a general feeling of desolation. Very

little green grass or verdant plant life was evident – the foliage (where any vestige

existed) was brown.

We decided to visit Sunday and Dave Delger at the Caribbean Dive Shop in

Bucktown – we had some things to take care of before our Fiji trip (a long-anticipated

vacation in mid-October). We were warmly welcomed there, and heard their stories of

dislocation and the beginnings of recovery. Dave had been by our house, and told us that

we had definitely had water, confirming what Michael had already said. He could tell that

Mark’s car was a goner.

While at the dive shop, we decided to sign up for the Mardi Gras trip to

CocoView Dive Resort in Roatan, Honduras – the same place we went last year. I

suppose that was in a burst of optimism.

Since we were so close, we decided to go to the house and check it out.

Nobody was exaggerating.

There were broken limbs everywhere; we had to fight our way to the back door

(the front door was too swollen to open). Upon entering the house, we experienced the

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horrific stench of rotting food and mold (we did wear gloves and masks). The wet carpet

squished under our feet, and in the back of the house, the wood floors had buckled badly

- in some places, it was like walking uphill. Black mold covered the walls and had begun

to overtake some of the ceilings. It was dark (no electricity) and quiet.

We were too numb to do anything but look around.

But happily, we saw our next-door neighbor, Kirk Groh. He had returned to his

family’s home for the fourth time, again fixing what he could (for the time being) and

taking anything worth saving. His wife Holly and their four children (including baby

Cait) were in their new home in Baton Rouge. They suffered severe roof damage, which

means their house is totaled – and they can decide whether to rebuild or leave.

We also saw activity on the other side at Vivian and Harry Hoskins’ house. Their

daughter, Virginia, had come down from Atlanta to supervise the gutting of their home

(they plan to return eventually).

A little later, we called Michael, who met us for dinner at Royal China, our

favorite Chinese restaurant. He had warned us that restaurants were very crowded –

starting at 5:00 p.m. He wasn’t kidding. Royal China was very busy – and surprisingly,

they were offering their full menu. Their Tong Chow Oysters (one of our favorites) was

prepared with Northeastern oysters instead of the Louisiana variety.

We spent the next two nights at our cousins, DeeGee and Robert Liniado’s house,

which seemed like a palace compared to what we found at 7311 Cameo. Indeed, they

suffered very little damage, and we were grateful to use their home as our base.

Friday morning started bright and early, as the homeowners’ insurance adjuster

was coming between 9 and 10 a.m. We had to start by clearing a path outside – the yard

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was strewn with fallen tree limbs. The next task was emptying the refrigerator and

freezer. The huge, heavy white bags our Louisville friends, Amy and Lee Benovitz gave

us came in handy for this gruesome task. We found maggots on the freezer’s exterior,

unidentifiable blobs in the refrigerator, and enough rotten food to provide visuals for a

very bad science experiment. Between the rotten food and yard debris, we were making

quite an impressive pile at our curb for garbage collection (and we wished they would

come speedily and soon!).

The homeowners’ insurance adjuster came and looked at the roof. That was about

it – he said the rest would be up to the flood insurance adjuster. We were quite surprised

at his seemingly brief assessment.

Most of the day’s remainder was used to salvage what we could from the house.

Mark got his scuba equipment; I got jewelry. We both took clothes that we thought could

be laundered or dry cleaned. We took artwork to see if it could be salvaged. Michael

came about noon to go through his things. He took out clothes and some books (he was

hopeful they could be dried out).

And we waited for the flood insurance adjuster. He finally came about 5:00 p.m.,

when we had about given up. He walked through the house, taking photos and

measurements. Unfortunately, through a big misunderstanding or omission, we have not

carried contents insurance on our flood policy for the past nine years. Thus, none of our

belongings were insured – just the structure. We were heartsick over this news, as we

know it will take a lot of money to replace what we have lost. However, we have some

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investments we can cash in if necessary, so we are more fortunate than many. What we

mourn the most are things we cannot easily replace – books, writings and photographs.

Michael, Mark and I went to dinner at Fausto’s Kitchen, still in our disgusting

work clothes. The restaurant was very crowded and served from a limited menu. That is

the common experience – restaurants are packed and offer just a few choices. When we

went for breakfast at Puccino’s the next day, they weren’t serving food at all, as their

cook had a family medical emergency. So we moved on to another restaurant before we

hit the road.

As we drove back to Fort Lauderdale, Mark and I again pondered our future. Our

house would have to be gutted at the very least – before being habitable again. Our flood

insurance will probably max out our policy value at around $248,000. We will get a little

bit from our homeowners’ policy for roof damage. We are reluctant to rebuild in an area

where another levee break could put us in the same situation with the next hurricane.

We have decided to look at housing in the Fort Lauderdale area – for research’s

sake if nothing else. Again, we were warmly welcomed back here, into a loving Jewish

synagogue community. From this base, I know we could build a larger one.

There will be many questions in the days ahead – and perhaps fewer answers. But

somewhere down the line, in the next few months, we hope to chart a course for our

future.

Our immediate plans include taking our long-awaited trip to Fiji next week. At

least, we have somewhere to be for two weeks! After that, we will return to Fort

Lauderdale for a week or so before we head back to New Orleans. This time, we plan to

stay there about a week – long enough to really go through the house to determine what

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to pitch and what to save, and to assess our Canal Street property. Hopefully, Katy will

be able to join us for part of the time, as we believe our children need to claim – and take

– what they want from the house.

After that, who knows?

Between Visits Home

January 1, 2006

Our last visit to New Orleans was in November, just before Thanksgiving. This

time, we spent about five days there, trying again to salvage what we could. I suppose

intervening events – and inertia – have prevented my writing before now.

Again, the trip was very difficult on so many levels. It was good to have Katy

helping us – Michael was there, too, when he wasn’t at work. Katy managed to save

many of our photos. Michael helped drag more of the heavy stuff out to the curb. We

assessed the condition of kitchen items – many will still be usable after they are

thoroughly cleaned, but so many more were thrown out.

We saw friends – Loel and Larry Samuel had us to their house for dinner, Gale

Pick brought us lunch one day, and we met Richard and Yvette Warren at Royal China

for dinner one night. Gale and Randy, and Loel and Larry are back to stay – at least for

now. Both guys are waiting to see what the business climate will bring. Richard and

Yvette have bought an RV – they’re doing some traveling and dividing their time

between the Atlanta area and Ocean Springs – where her kids live – and Metairie –

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Richard is helping with renovation efforts of friends and family. Their long-term plans

are uncertain.

It was very painful to see the desolation and destruction. This time, we drove into

town via the I-10 twin spans – one was open in both directions. This was our normal

route, but there was nothing normal once we hit New Orleans East. The destruction of

that area – and the Ninth Ward – is not to be believed. Splintered remains of houses and

cars just go on for miles – and Mark was nearly reduced to tears.

It got worse when we hit familiar territory. Lakeview is just desolate. To add to

the sadness, there was a detour in our route to and from Metairie that took us down Fleur

de Lis Drive – an area closest to the levee break at the 17th Street canal, and the site of

some of the worst destruction and biggest losses. To make this trip every day, following

the same route, was like repeatedly pulling a scab off a wound. But, surprisingly after a

while, we became somewhat numb.

On the drive in, I kept busy talking on the cell phone with friends. That’s how I

found out that layoffs at WYES were imminent. In fact, they were in the process of

calling people that day (around November 15). I never got a call, so the next day, I went

to the temporary office on Phosphor Street in Metairie for information. Astonishingly, I

was not on the layoff list – maybe because I was part time and they didn’t pay any

benefits. However, I submitted my resignation, as it was clear that we wouldn’t be

returning to New Orleans.

So, there was a party that Friday night for the laid-off staff members at Dawn

Raymond Smith’s house. There were laughs, but there was also the feeling that so many

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felt screwed over – even employees who had been there for 20+ years were let go. It was

fun to see everyone, but it was also very sad.

It was on our way back to Florida that Mark and I finally reached a decision. We

decided to move to the Fort Lauderdale area, where we knew we had friends and could

begin again. Mark didn’t really want to move to Louisville, and I figured I could be

happy either in Louisville or Fort Lauderdale. We just figured that we needed to move

on.

So, now, it’s the beginning of 2006, and we have bought a house and made plans

to move later this month or in early February. The house needs some work, and we want

to get as much done as possible before moving in. The best thing is that it’s just two

blocks away from Wendy and Bruce in the same neighborhood! We are excited and

scared all at the same time.

Our house in New Orleans still sits in all its moldy mess. Michael is eager to

begin gutting it (in fact, he’s already done his room and the hallway), and hopes maybe

he will be able to buy it from us. We’ll see how feasible that is after a discussion of our

family finances with Susan Simon, our accountant.

I wish I could feel more joyful as we begin a new year, but it’s so hard. Change is

difficult, but change we must. We will travel back to New Orleans later this week to

salvage what we can from the house for our Florida home. And then we’ll move on….

Moving On – A New Beginning

February 27, 2006

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As I sit in our bungalow at CocoView Resort in Roatan, what I am about to write

seems so surreal. Come to think of it, a lot of things seem surreal these days.

I have been back to New Orleans twice since early January. The first time, Mark

and I went for the final pass through our house; the second time, I went alone –

specifically to attend a National Council of Jewish Women luncheon that honored two

outstanding volunteers – my dear friend Loel Samuel, and Inga Elsas.

I have decided that my experiences bordered on schizophrenic – characterized by

mood swings not only in my psyche, but in the physical landscapes.

The first trip was right after New Year’s – and was meant to be the “last pass”

through our house. Before we left Florida, we amassed a stash of boxes, cushioning

material (including two huge rolls of bubble wrap) and tape – and a small collection of

cleaning supplies. Our goal was to pack and take as much as we could salvage, leaving

the rest to be thrown out when the house was gutted.

Well, it was a busy week.

We spent most days sorting, wrapping and packing, and throwing out much less

than on our previous visits. That task would be left to the “gutters,” whom Michael said

needed to come immediately, if not sooner.

We examined his work so far – he had gutted his room and the hallway to the

studs.

I did meet some WYES friends for coffee one day and lunch the next – they were

among the laid-off employees. The mood was somber, although we did share a few

laughs. Once again, we shared meals with friends, glad for companionship during

otherwise-bleak days. Our neighborhood was very quiet – not many people had returned.

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We did still have electricity, which made packing easier. However, we were always sure

to be finished before dusk. After sunset, the mood gets really eerie, as there are no

streetlights. Larry and Loel told us about New Year’s Eve, as they rode out to get-

together at Rick and Tricia Kirschman’s, who live in Lake Terrace. Fog had rolled in,

and visibility was next-to-nothing, with the absence of streetlights.

When they started home, Larry missed the turn onto Canal Boulevard – which is a

major street.

Spooky, they said.

After nearly a week, we couldn’t pack any more boxes. We had rented a trailer

from U-Haul, which could only hold a finite amount of stuff. So, we had to make some

tough decisions about what to leave behind.

I had packed up my pots and pans for the move – and then Michael reminded me

that he didn’t have any. So, I figured I could replace mine, and left them for his use. We

salvaged still more clothes, a few pieces of artwork, lots of kitchen items, china and

glassware (Katy would get Mark’s mother’s crystal; Michael would get her china), and

knick-knacks galore. We even packed bed linens and towels – hoping they could be

washed successfully.

Unfortunately, we probably forgot some things – I left behind two needlepoint

purses that Nana had made, as well as her mother’s sterling silver hand mirror. And then

there were things we just couldn’t take – all my clips and writings, books I hadn’t even

read yet – and so much more.

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We were still in New Orleans for Mark’s birthday – Aunt Dot made a cake, which

we enjoyed. We had a positive meeting with Susan Simon, our accountant, and

determined what assets the kids could claim.

They’ll do all right.

Based on her report, we decided to let Michael continue to gut and renovate our

Cameo Street house. He is paying for the renovations, and will live in it after he’s

finished. We will consider selling him the house when he is ready – and some of that

depends on how stable the neighborhood will be – and his continued employment.

He is one happy camper!

We all feel good about the decision – he has something to work towards, and he is

hopeful that New Orleans will come back. He still maintains that our West Lakeshore

neighborhood is one of the area’s best places to live. And, we are eager to see what he

does with the place! Hopefully, he’ll be able to pay insurance and taxes without going

broke – that’s part of the deal, too.

***

When we returned to Florida, the painter had finished his work on our house.

Next, we had to make arrangements for installation of our bedroom carpet, then furniture

delivery. Then, we could move in!

I made a trip to Louisville in mid-January, as Mom had hip surgery on January

15th. I stayed for about a week, during which our bedroom furniture and easy chairs for

the den were delivered.

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We finally moved into our home at 3405 Aladdin Way on January 31, 2006. We

continued to work very hard nearly every day, unpacking and washing our stuff from

Cameo Street – then finding places to put it. We have spent an enormous amount of time

and money at Lowe’s, buying everything from the kitchen sink (literally) – to light

fixtures to vertical blinds to appliances (washer and dryer, refrigerator, range and

dishwasher). I have also spent lot of time and money (but with coupons and gift cards) at

Linens & Things and Bed, Bath & Beyond. We still have some boxes to unpack – and we

still need more furniture, but we are settling in.

It’s still hard. Even with fun things to do, we miss our life in New Orleans. We

are eternally grateful to Wendy and Bruce for putting us up – and putting up with us! We

are happy to be with new friends, although we miss our Crescent City connections.

New opportunities are presenting themselves. I discovered the community center

in our area – a place that offers Jazzercise, yoga and a writers’ critique group -- in

addition to Mah Johng, bridge, drawing and painting and a world of other activities. I

have found a good Weight Watchers group (now if I can just get back to my dietary

routine!). Mark joined a scuba club, and has been on several dives. I am getting involved

at temple, which has led to professional opportunities. I will probably be teaching

Religious School in the upper grades next fall, and I will be a youth group adviser. These

are paid gigs, and I am happy to be earning a little extra money. I also will be on the

Ritual Committee (as a volunteer) and will help with Sisterhood activities. Our new life

seems to be shaping up.

My last visit home was so different from the first three. I stayed with Larry and

Loel for most of the visit. As their Uptown home did not suffer any damage, once again, I

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was staying in a “normal” place. And all around their area, it was increasingly difficult to

tell that Hurricane Katrina had happened. The first clue: flowers were blooming – azaleas

and pansies – “normal” blooms for late winter and early spring.

A trip to Lakeview and our old neighborhood was entirely different. The huge

piles of rubble on the neutral ground between West End and Pontchartrain Boulevards

aren’t as high, but they’re still there. Destruction is still very apparent – and not too many

people have returned. Our block is desolate – no one is back. However, on Jewel Street,

some tenants are back in the second-story apartments, and a couple of blocks over,

houses that didn’t suffer much damage are occupied.

Michael and his friends had gutted our entire house. I felt numb when I walked

through, noting the spaces that marked each room. From the outside, the house looks

untouched – except for the downed fence and barbecue grill, and the brown landscape.

We passed by Aunt Dot and Uncle Stan’s house – it had been gutted several months

before, but a recent tornado in the area had done more damage. Windows were broken,

and we know their roof was seriously damaged. This happened a few days after they put

their home up for sale.

Michael and I spent a lot of time together, which was especially wonderful. We

ate oysters at Casamento’s – despite its longstanding reputation as a New Orleans

culinary fixture, I had never been there. They were serving from a limited menu, but we

didn’t care, as long as they had oysters. We met the plumber at the house – Michael is

having the plumbing replaced. Then we went to Lowe’s, where we bought fiberglass

bathtubs. It was déjà vu all over again – as I had spent so much time in the Florida

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Lowe’s that I knew where the restroom would probably be in the Metairie location! He

made contact with an electrician, who will replace all the wiring.

Michael and I talked a lot about his plans for the house – including sharing some

decorating ideas. And we talked about his teenage years, which were rocky and for me,

sometimes devastating. He has really changed for the better, growing into a resourceful,

independent – and nice – young man.

The luncheon in Loel’s and Inga’s honor was fun – not just for the awardees, but

for the chance to see so many people at one time. It was truly bittersweet – I found out

that Janie Kreisman is engaged to her longtime beau, Neal Soslow. I also learned that

many are unsure about what their long-term plans are. Wendy Good said that she and her

daughters are living in rented quarters in the New Orleans area, while her husband

shuttles between New Orleans and Atlanta, wondering if he will be able to rebuild his

insurance and financial planning business. Larry’s law practice is very slow – except for

a couple of lawsuits filed by the teachers’ unions, there’s not much activity. Loel is

teaching three-year-olds at the JCC nursery school. They don’t know if they’ll still be

living in New Orleans in a year or two. Randy Pick is hoping his door manufacturing

business will come back – and he’s making that his first priority, waiting to repair the

minor damage to their home. He’s also helping his mother rebuild her Old Metairie

house, which suffered severe damage to the first floor. Tom Wolf was furloughed from

his job at LSU, and he has retired, but is considering other work options – some of which

would take him away from the area. Ed Smith continues to apply for jobs in health

administration, after losing his job at WillowWood/Woldenberg more than a year ago. He

hasn’t gotten anything yet, but he and Betty will most likely be moving eventually.

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Robert and DeeGee continue their separation, because their daughter, Millie is

enrolled in a Richmond, Virginia school for the year. Robert’s Fact-O-Bake car painting

and repair business was totaled in the hurricane. He is trying to work out a deal with

FEMA to place trailers on the property – he could collect rent. But long-term

opportunities may be elsewhere for him. My cousin, Rick has two FEMA trailers on his

property – one for him and the boys (when they visit) and one for Aunt Dot and Uncle

Stan. There are huge delays in getting them connected to electricity, water and sewage

lines, but I suppose they all will be moving into trailers eventually. Rick will fix up his

house, but his law practice is taking him around the state – he does a lot of collections

work. He has bought a building in Metairie for his local practice – hopefully, business

will pick up.

Everyone seems to be in states of flux or transition. We count ourselves among

the lucky ones – able to move on to a new home and new beginnings. It’s so hard starting

over, but we will prevail. And hopefully, with the addition of hurricane shutters on our

Aladdin Way home, and with the repair of our roof, we will be ready for the next

hurricane season – and hope for the best.

September 12, 2006

The first anniversary of Hurricane Katrina has come and gone, and I’m just

getting around to writing about it. Avoidance? Perhaps. Between the first anniversary of

Katrina and the fifth anniversary of the 9/11 disaster, this has not been an easy time. Too

many memories are still so raw.

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We were back in New Orleans last month. Mark went diving at the Flower

Gardens on the Louisiana/Texas coast, and I spent a little over a week back in the

Crescent City, catching up with friends, seeing the sights and reuniting with our family.

Katy came to town for a long weekend, and we all stayed at our house. At that

time, Michael had made wonderful progress on the renovation – his desire to be OUT of

the FEMA trailer spurred him on. He has acted as the contractor on this project, and has

learned how to lay floor tile and do other jobs with the best of them. The house, although

not finished when we were there, looks beautiful. He should be so proud of what he has

accomplished.

Michael hasn’t made many structural changes. A hall closet now has been redone

to be a bedroom closet, and he has not replaced one set of kitchen cabinets over the

“peninsula,” but the rest looks fairly familiar. At the time of our visit, there was still

much to be done. We were determined to stay there, even though things were pretty

rough. We figured that as long as the air conditioning functioned and the refrigerator was

working, we could deal.

It was a lot like camping. While all the toilets worked, only one sink in the half-

bath off the den was functional. There was no furniture to speak of, so we brought a

queen-sized air mattress from Florida, and borrowed another twin-sized one for Katy.

Michael opted to stay in his trailer while we were there, but moved in after we left.

He had taken delivery of all the kitchen appliances and the washer and dryer, but

the refrigerator was the only one that worked. I quickly assessed that any meals “at

home” beyond breakfast just weren’t going to happen. Oh well – that “forced” us to eat

out at many of our favorite spots.

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Our house looks the same – yet different. Michael had taken up flooring in the

kitchen, laundry room, half bath and den to reveal terrazzo tile – and he decided to have

that refurbished. It looks wonderful. He has chosen a neutral palette in paint colors – the

house is painted mostly a warm beige. The bathrooms are blue with white fixtures.

I quickly assessed that there wasn’t much I could do to “help.” The yard is still as

shambles, but needs more than a few plants to look presentable. I was not up to the task

of spreading loads of dirt, planting sod or planning a garden, so I left that for him.

That meant I could spend part of the week visiting with friends and family – and

that felt really good.

Once Katy got to town, we spent a little time in the French Quarter – which seems

to have come back fairly quickly. It was quiet, but it was also August.

While we won’t mark a full year in south Florida until sometime in October, in

many ways it feels like we’re starting another year now. With Rosh Hashanah fast

approaching, we mark time with the Jewish calendar – we are here now for the second

year during the High Holy Days.

There are still a few things to do to complete our settlement here – paperwork,

mostly. We have found a circle of friends through the temple, and we both have explored

the community to find others who share our passions for writing (me) and scuba diving

(Mark).

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We miss so much about New Orleans – our friends most of all. We also miss the

obvious charms of the Crescent City – the food, the music, the architecture and the

general fun and funkiness that were part of our lives for so many years.

The good news is that Michael intends to stay. His job is secure, he has made a

home for himself from the shambles that was our house this time last year. And we will

be frequent visitors.

We know what it means to miss New Orleans – and our hearts are with all who

are starting over – wherever they may be.