Angry and Affected
By Ty Randall
May 19, 2006
A week ago I returned from a visit to New Orleans. During this
past week when people have asked me how my vacation was, I have
apparently given different answers. I was made aware this
morning by my friend Cindy, who heard me tell someone it
was "strange."
"I thought you told me the other day that it was great," Cindy interjected.
"I may have," I told her. "But today is a different day."
I don't mean to sound like a liar (most of the time), but
after Cindy said that, I had to stop to think about why I
kept changing my answer. Here I am a full week after
returning and still processing how I really felt about my trip.
I've heard it said that people who lived in New Orleans
through Katrina are "mentally ill." To be honest, now that
I've visited and seen what things look like and listened to
some of the stories, I feel a bit mentally ill myself. At
the very least, I was affected in some way by my experience. And
I was only there for a few days. My heart goes out to
all those people who are dealing with that every day.
When I first returned and Cindy asked about my vacation, I
did tell her it was "great." Hell, I just spent a bunch of
money on plane tickets, Jazz Fest tickets, souvenirs, shrimp
boots, and t-shirts. I also spent more than half my allotted
vacation time for the year. I couldn't very well admit to not
having a great time after all that spending.
The next person who asked, heard me say it was "fun" because I
was still thinking about Jazz Fest and all the fun I had there.
Then the more people would ask and the more details I would
reveal about the entire week, the more my answer
changed. I told of some homeless people I met who
lost everything, the friends living in FEMA trailers on
their lawns, the church that houses visitors who come down
to help rebuild. After the fun started fading, my answer
changed to just being a "good." vacation.
I tried as hard as I could to focus on the fun of Jazz
Fest, but I started thinking about the damaged house right
outside the fair grounds that brought us immediately back
to reality after a few hours of peace and laughter. I
started thinking about all the trees either missing or
still on top of houses, all the houses missing or pushed
up against trees, all the boats still up on the street,
and all the mangled cars piled under the overpass. I started
thinking about the stories of how bad the government has and
continues to fail so many people in need. The next time
asked, I my anger was slowly creeping up when I
changed my answer to just "ok."
The following day when somebody else asked, I was
thinking about my mixed feelings at the beginning of September
before I got word that my friends were okay. I thought of the dead
person they saw in City park, how big their son is
getting, the lack of musical listings at clubs Monday
through Thursday because so many musicians haven't
returned, the musicians village Habitat for Humanity
is building for them. I tried again to focus on all
the friends I saw at Jazz Fest, both old and new. A quick
recollection of who I saw or heard brought back
memories of good music, but I wouldn't really associate
with New Orleans. Bands like Yonder Mountain String Band, The
Driskill Mountain Boys, Red Stick Ramblers, Paul Simon, Warren
Haynes, Keith Urban, and Lionel Richie to close it
out for God's sake! I now found myself answering, "It was
kind of weird."
After thinking about my artist friend, the "Magnet Man"
telling me stories of digging through maggots on
refrigerators just to get the magnets and the stench
that he had to endure, it reminded me.
When I told of my other friend who's house
survived, but was now getting kicked out after 15 years
because the owner decided to sell, it reminded me.
I began to get angry.
I wanted someone to blame when I thought of another friend
with the boat tied to his trailer who has to put his
feet in the tub when he sits on the commode because
the damn FEMA trailer is so tiny. "And he was one of the
lucky ones who got a trailor with a key," I explained.
I felt guilty hearing about
one person who estimates it
will take him at least 3 years to rebuild his house
while I live in a huge 4-bedroom house stuffed with
furniture and dust collectors with just a wife and
2 cats. I was now answering that my visit was "sad." Or sometimes
"kind of depressing, actually." But that would
anger me more because I knew they didn't want you feeling
sad or sorry for them.
After telling about the good stuff, I began to
tell my stories about the "Misery Tour." Did you
know Gray Line offers an official misery tour for $35?
Of course they promote it as "the rebirth of New
Orleans," not "the misery tour." I'm not sure how
informative theirs is because I didn't go on it, but
my friends who live in New Orleans took me on their
own misery tour and told me plenty about how they
feel and what they've seen. Trust me when I tell
you, they are not in a constant state of bliss. The
more I think about that part of my vacation, the more
sad and angry I get. All those poor people have been
through hell and a whole lot of them are still pretty
darn close to it.
"Come on down to hell folks, but wear your shrimp
boots 'cause in our hell it gets mighty wet."
So now that I've had time to process some of my
feelings and emotions, I have to figure out what exactly
to do about it. More than helping me cope, what can
I do to help others? How can little ole me living
way the heck up in New Jersey help my friends in New
Orleans cope with what they still have to live with
every day? That's something for me to figure out, and
no matter how small it is, I will do something.
No one person could do everything needed, but if we
all tried, at least we could help.
For now, I can suggest either reading Chris Rose's
book, 1 Dead In Attic or as many of his columns as you can.
Chris Rose is a journalist for the Times Picayune.
You can find his column on the web at www.NOLA.com/rose.
His book is a collection of his stories that appeared in
the paper for the last 4 months of 2005. They don't tell
the whole story, but they give you a good idea of what
people from New Orleans saw and how they felt about it.
There are other Katrina books in stores and lots of information and
pictures on the web also. I suggest checking out as
many as you can stomach at one time.
A couple other books I've noticed in the stores are:
"The Great Deluge" by Douglas Brinkley
"Breach of Faith" by Jed Horne
"The Storm" by Ivor van Heerden and Mike Bryan
"Hurricane Katrina" by Time Magazine
I leave you with this one last piece to my story; Back in April
when the trees and flowers began to bloom around where I live,
I emailed my friend in New Orleans a picture of what it
looked like around here. It was a "pretty" picture.
When she replied I thought she was being sarcastic, but
now that I've been there to see it, I know she was serious.
Back then she wrote
back to me that she finds it hopeful to see a new pile of
trash in front of someone's house because that probably
means they have come back and are cleaning out to
rebuild and return to the city they love, the city
they call home, the city of New Orleans.
God bless them all.
