HumidCity

A new Katrina Refrigerator post here. Its title is Walking to New Orleans.

This is Walking to New Orleans II.

Last night, while my grandson and I were playing a game, my husband and daughter were sitting in the front room watching TV and talking. The rest of the story comes from my husband as I didn’t know about it until today.

They heard a knock on the door. My husband opened it to find a 60-ish, emaciated, black woman standing there. She asked him if he could ask his wife to make her a sandwich. She had walked and walked to get to our neighborhood because she was so hungry, but found the church (probably the one up on the corner of Rampart and St. Anthony) closed. She was clearly unaccustomed to knocking on random doors in search of food, and according to my husband, clearly in need of the food. She didn’t look like a substance abuser, just a desperate, very poor, very hungry woman. My husband packed her a sack lunch with a sandwich, some chips, some peanut butter crackers, whatever he could find in our kitchen and gave it to her. When he gave it to her he said she was crying and then she disappeared into the night.

There are so few services here that we couldn’t think this morning of where we could have sent her and we’re going to look into putting a list together of shelters, etc. so that we will have that information for someone who needs it.

As unaccustomed as she was to knocking on random doors in order to eat, we are also unaccustomed to having our door knocked on for that reason. It is shocking to us. I wish we knew who she was, where she was. Maybe we could help her in some other way than just a sandwich and some chips if we knew that, but the whole thing transpired fast and my husband, in his shock, didn’t get any information from her. How many others like her are there out there?

For sure they’re “out there”—-not in an apartment.

There was help for the very poor right after Katrina, but now so many services are just not up and running, and there are grants for homeowners coming through, but this city has been a city of renters for a long, long time. There has been no help at all for renters (Section 8 aside, but that’s another story). We regular Joe’s in the middle are at the mercy of “the market.” There is no chance for a woman like her to find an affordable apartment as rents have doubled in many cases, and the number of apartments available has declined.

Yesterday’s Times Picayune had an article on rising rents. While I understand that some landlords have extraordinary refurbishment expenses, there are others out there who clearly raised the rent to a number that would be close to what the Section 8 voucher amount is, even though the apartment would have rented for half that much last year, or certainly the year before Katrina.

Businesses can’t get workers, workers can’t find affordable housing. Without the workers there is no business—-who’s not GETTING this? It seems so obvious.

No one is saying that landlords should give away their rentals free, (there is a story in the article of one landlord who waived the deposit—that’s fabulous! What a novel idea!) but as one woman in the article said, who was now making $500 more a month than she was pre-K, she thought she could do better and fears she “missed the market.” C’mon! You’re already making more than you were before so what are you griping about? The rest of us are paying you all the money we have to keep a roof over our heads. And Entergy is raping us for the rest of our paycheck. Throw in paid utilities and maybe your apartment would be worth it.

I fear that if something isn’t done to cap rents in this city, that our labor issues will only get worse, and more people will leave, especially those who work in the service industry. The tourism and convention people need to get involved in this or they’re gonna tout our culture and music and party town only to have the conventioneers find that they hafta make their own hurricane at Pat O’s and bring their own pots to make red beans. There won’t be anyone here to make it for them. The bartenders and cooks won’t be able to find an apartment.

The woman who knocked on our door last night might be a harbinger of things to come if we don’t get services together, figure out what HANO is thinking, and get some rent controls in here.

None of that makes you think? Okay, how about this: What if that woman was YOUR mother?

-NOLA Slate

No real time to write, we leave town tomorrow at O’Dark Thirty and I have two of my staff out sick on a hard work day. I do want to impress the importance of a new site on you folks though. Check out Fix The Pumps and get a solid, picture laden, well researched view of why the Corps of Engineers needs to be held accountable. This is what is going on right now, jeopardizinng our city and citizenry. Go. Read. Now

Fix the pumps
After Hurricane Katrina, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers agreed to assume full responsibility for repair of New Orleans’ drainage pumps. Over a year later, much work remains undone. I am here to push them to do that work.

We are too much a rabble, leaderless and increasingly dispirited. I heard nothing in the mayor’s 100-day remarks Wednesday to remedy that. We lack the charismatic leadership we need to see us through this dark hour, our Henry V to rally the tired few to the great battle that will remake the world. Instead, we get Mayor Hamlet, Prince of Denmark or somewhere, anywhere else but New Orleans, wandering the ramparts of Perdido Street and wondering how to proceed.

I see more and more on-line commentators, and some in the newspaper, remark that they are starting to have thoughts of moving on, of leaving the city, of giving up. No one I know personally is ready to leave, and people I thought lost to Texas continue to trickle in despite all the challenges. Still, the conventional wisdom of the street points to the sprouting forests of For Sale signs as indication that many who haven’t yet returned, and more than a few who are back, are making other plans.

I wasn’t surprised to hear this sort of chatter in August. The first serious month of hurricane season was filled with an endless tide of contrary news, the threat of a storm in the Gulf, and the looming anniversary. Even for the most heavily medicated population in the developed world, it was a depressing prospect. Can we make it, people asked each other with the breathlessness of exhausted swimmers struggling to make their way to the shore.

The mayor and his circle give us no confidence. Leadership is the rescue we need now every bit as much as the people on the roofs of last year, watching the helicopters circle then leave; the 100-day promise was another lifeline tantalizing dangled before our eyes and then withdrawn. Perhaps we should drape our houses in bedsheets roughly lettered: Mayor Nagin, Please Help Us.

I remain convinced the city will survive. We the 200,000 who have come home can be enough if we do not surrender, if we insist that our leaders step up to the difficult challenges we face as a city, as a collective. We only ask they they work as hard and as ingenously as those who labor all day to save their businesses, and still go home at night to work on ruined homes, that the mayor and his cohorts navigate the paths of Entergy and RTA and recovery finances in the same way the majority of us hack our way through the jungle of insurance, SBA and LRA.

The rousing speech Shakespeare puts into the mouth of his Henry V is something I have carried with me through the years, the product of most of a degree in English Literature from the University of New Orleans, and a number of years spent working alongside a Shakespeare enthusiast. Henry’s position was bleak. He was at the end of a long land campaign, surrounded by the French who had cut off his line of supply and retreat, facing a choice between victory and defeat, with no place for retreat. It is a marvel of motivational speech, a statement that rings true to the American ear across the centuries with its martial setting and its celebration of exceptionalism.

It is the speech I would hear from Perdido Street, but have no reason to expect; the sort of speech we must demand of our own leaders, if they wish to be counted among the 200,000 who saved the city. It is the speech we must all give to ourselves, should post on our shaving mirrors or on the doors of our new refrigetarors, to remind ourselves we are here because we have chosen this place to fight.

Its opening words are the best response I could offer to Mayor Hamlet’s vacuous remarks, and the truest antidote to them. If you read this blog, you are among the 200,000, the happy few. I do not mean to indict those who have not returned, by choice or happenstance. It is mostly beyond their control. Instead, I mean to remind the 200,000 that they are living through a special place and time in history, one that will be long remembered. When people look back on this time, they will read of the president and the governor and the mayor and laugh, or perhaps cry in catharsis at the tragedy of hubris strutting to its doom. There’s nothing we can do now to remedy the leaders who hobble us, except to prove them wrong, to write for ourselves the scene that ends not in tragedy but in triumph.

…proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian.’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
and say ‘These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.’
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
-Mark Folse, Wet Bank Guide 

Reuters AlertNet - Army leader who admitted New Orleans errors quits

WASHINGTON, Aug 10 (Reuters) - The head of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, who in June admitted that design flaws in the levees his agency built to protect New Orleans caused most of the flooding during Hurricane Katrina, has asked to retire, the Army said on Thursday.

Why is it that no one oputside of Louisiana seems to know about the admissions of failure made by these people? They did a “heckuva job!” on my city…

I wonder who the new idiot will be?

Greg Peters at Suspect Device pointed out this thread on the National Geographic site. It shows just what we are up against. Pages upon pages of vitriol and “logical,” arguments about why we should not rebuild.
It is VITAL that we make people understand what is really happening and why it is important to rebuild. It is not only important, but also our civic duty to get across to them how misplaced their faith in the Army Corps of Engineers is before it happens to them. It seems the admissions of culpability made by the Corps only got play in Louisiana and European media. No one else seems to have any idea.
Many of the comments on this thread express faith in the Corps and their ability. Terrifying. What is going to happen when we have a huge earthquake in CA, devastating tornado season in Tornado Alley, or some other massive disaster?

It is about survival, but it is also about preventing our countrymen from suffering the same way we have been. Many Americans may have a “fuck you New Orleans,” attitude, but we must persevere. If we cannot change that, well a phrase that has been going around a lot here is, “If at first you don’t secede, try try again!” After the way this has been handled we obviously are not considered part of the US anymore anyway….

Shut down the Port of New Orleans for one week. Trust me, they will get the picture.