Five years later…

This final post is part six in a series of posts leading up to the five year anniversary of hurricane Katrina on August 29th

Poverty Point, Louisiana: How can you not love this place?

These posts were hard to write. I sat in the moonlight on the patio last night, wondering whether or not they should have been posted at all. Sometimes I feel as if I do not do it all justice—it feels as if I glossed over my emotions, the depth of the destruction, the feeling of the town, the smell of the toxicity of Murphy oil…And sometimes I feel as if I have said too much, felt too much, treaded in a place where I had no business being.

I know that, in the grand scheme of things, my experiences are not that significant. I did not live through the storm; I do not work on a daily basis to rebuild the city. I haven’t even spent enough time on the coast of Mississippi to describe their point of view.

Yet my experiences changed my life forever. Loose ideals and vague beliefs in humanity, conceptualizations of courage, bravery, and endurance, the perceived role of governments, the effects of socio-economic status, they all gelled and solidified in New Orleans. I am who I am today because of that place.

In 2008, all hell broke loose in our family. We were struggling, trying to survive. What was supposed to be an annual pilgrimage to NOLA did not end up being so.

In many ways, I still cannot believe that I am not going to be down there on the five year anniversary.

J and I have agreed: our next family vacation (hopefully, next year) will be a remake of the Mississippi river trip. Even K is excited about this. I think it is important for my sons to be exposed to the Southern culture, the music, the bayous, the bay. K is excited about the Gibson Guitar factory. Ant is excited about the food. J does not know what to expect—he’s never been that far south before.

And the hurricane. And the oil. We will be living with the effects of these for decades to come. My children need to see what became of the hurricane and the oil.

If anyone ever asks me where I think I will retire, where I think I will live, NOLA is high on my list. After the kids are grown, I think it is quite possible that J and I will move down there and settle permanently.

Despite the hurricane, I love that town—my love of the place grew immensely after hurricane. For those of you who think that, or have said that, in essence, the city should be razed and the people relocated, I only have one thing to say: People who live in New Orleans rarely move out of New Orleans, and there’s a reason for that. Go down there yourself, and see all of the reasons why the city should be saved.