August 24, 2006
General Haig
Last night Teri, who is in New Orleans for the first time post-Katrina, sent me a text message that simply said, "Lakeview is unbelievable."
Most of my connection to New Orleans is secondhand. My parents' memories, long weekends at the Lippincotts, Mardi Gras weekends as a child, a teenager, a college student. And yet, like many, New Orleans is a city close to my heart, even though it was never my home. It's where my brother entered the world. The city where two fresh-faced Ohio twenty-somethings lived as husband and wife; where they became parents. Where I have spent many nights and eaten many meals and built many memories, some even legendary.
My dad doesn't talk much, if ever, about the years we lived as a family in Houston. He rarely references that time - that time when I was a girl and he was married to my mom. But he speaks of their early years of marriage quite frequently and quite fondly. The years they lived in Utah and they were so poor that for entertainment they would drive to a small airport in Provo and watch planes take off and land. The years they lived in New Orleans: first in a Metairie apartment, then a duplex, before finally buying their first home, on General Haig Street, in Lakeview.
They only lived in that little house for two years, 1973-1975, but it's the house they brought baby Guy home to, and it's the first place they ever owned. "When we lived on Gen. Haig...," or "That house on Gen. Haig..." are common phrases out of both of my parents' mouths.
In 2002, my mom went back to New Orleans for the first time in almost 25 years so she could see Teri get married. She drove David around and showed him all the sights and one afternoon they drove out to Lakeview and slowly crawled down General Haig Street. An older woman, my parent's former neighbor, now someone else's, was outside sweeping. When my mom got out of the car to approach her, the neighbor recognized her immediately. "Judy!" she exclaimed. They greeted each other warmly and when my mom told her she was in town to see her daughter's friend get married, the neighbor put her hand over her heart and breathed, "You have a daughter...," both as realization and blessing.
My dad said that after Camille, he and my mother never experienced another New Orleans hurricane. They would hop in the car and drive to Shreveport or Lafayette and all their neighbors would shake their heads and call them Yankees. But once my brother was born, my dad said there was no way he would stay in that house, that close to the levees, even with an axe in the attic.
Five days from now, the calendar will mark one year, 365 days, since Katrina blew across the Gulf and changed her forever. And still, even today, most of Lakeview sits quiet. That neighbor on General Haig isn't sweeping her driveway and the house where loved lived is a silent shell.
Posted by hannah at 01:14 PM
I just received a picture yesterday from the time my friend and I spent in NO helping out a lady who lost everything to Katrina. It was heartbreaking and gut wrenching work, and it was a very strange way to see a city for the first time.
Most of New Orleans was a ghost town when we were there in June; it was still hard to find something to eat in many places. While we were there we heard that any house which has not been cleaned out and sanitized by the 1 year anniversary will be torn down - I wonder if that's still going to happen. The city will definately never be the same. It may recover, but it won't be the same.
Posted by RB on August 24, 2006 03:18 PMA year later my mom is still living in her FEMA trailer. It is incredibly depressing to go home right now. My mom is living in a trailer in her front yard. However, none of us can forget that we got lucky.
Posted by Melissa on August 24, 2006 04:26 PM
